Page 77 of The Sun and the Moon
And then I become aware that I am alone in this room. Not only is Cadence missing, but Old Man Chicken is gone, too. She must have taken him out for his morning potty break.
I slide out of bed and wander, naked, to the bathroom for my own pee break.
And all I can think about is how I don’t want to run away atall. Not from this love affair, not from the strange challenge of my dad’s engagement and all the change that will inevitably bring to both our lives. Not from my feelings.
And especially not from Ranger Girl, who I wish was still in that bed.
As I’m brushing my teeth, I throw on her t-shirt and my underwear, and I prop up my phone against the mirror, calling Joe on FaceTime.
After a few rings, he picks up. “Thank fuck, you finally called.”
I spit the toothpaste into the sink. “You could have texted to check in,” I reply with a scowl. I bend down to rinse.
“Since when has that ever been our dynamic?” he questions. He’s dressed in his scrubs, walking his way to work as he sips on his green smoothie.
“Joe, you didn’t get the Hailey Bieber smoothie again?” I am stalling. Maybe he won’t notice.
“Spill the tea,” he says, glancing at his Apple Watch. “I literally have less than a third of a mile left to reach work. Crunch, crunch.” He walks stupid fast. Mall walker–level fast. Olympic-fast-walker fast.
“It’s Saturday. Why are you working?” I ask. Still stalling.
“Ambition,” he says. “Tea!”
“I don’t know what you mean by tea.” I play dumb. I called to spill—he knows I did—I just like to draw it out for the thrill of suspense.
“You’re on location for Daddy’s engagement party, and last I checked you were panicking about some soulmate shit, so I can only imagine that you have plenty of updates.”
I sometimes loathe myself for the level of honesty that Joe isable to get out of me. And then I remember that I’ve seen his dick and have pictures in case he ever pisses me off.
“I fucked my future stepsister.” It sounds so messed-up to say it like that, but it’s true. If our parents actually stay engaged and get married, we will technically be related. Though, as far as I know, there’s no law preventing marriage. At least not right now.
Fingers crossed it stays that way.
He stops dead in front of the Equinox entrance. He always tries to sneak in a sweat session before work.
“Ranger Girl?” he asks, incredulous and extroverted about it. A man exiting the gym glares daggers, but Joe is too busy ripping off his shades and screaming to notice. “What happened—holy shit?!”
I sit cross-legged on the bed. He waggles his brows.
“Ooooh, you need to get comfortable for the tale,” he says, starting to walk again.
I tell him about the connection we feel despite being polar opposites and trying to keep shit platonic. The tarot reading with Moira—how, despite my determination to take all things she said with a bucket of salt, it hit me like a ton of bricks. I tell him about the Ten of Cups card Cadence pulled when she was with that tarot reader and her fiancée in the bar.
“She’s complicated, but I like it.” The words drop out of my mouth like little bombs.
“You want to see where it could go,” he says. It’s the one thing I never, ever care about usually. The endgame of it. The what-if scenarios. But with Cadence, I long for infinite possibility.
Not another goodbye.
Give me strings, baby. Tie me the fuck up.
“But I’m terrified,” I say, allowing the wobble of nerves in my voice, the vulnerability of this confession.
“Dramatic.” He smiles. Winks. He isn’t one to go for sappy.
“I don’t know if that’s what she wants.”
“You’re Sydney Sinclair. Who wouldn’t want you forever?” he says, and I snort at the irony coming from him. “Well.” He laughs. “Besides me.”
