Page 78 of The Sun and the Moon
It’s not that Joe is wrong about the way it has historically gone with people vying for the role of romantic lead in my life. I know I can capture the imagination, and because of that, people think it means they want to settle down with me. Start a family. Have a future. Even after just a string of dates or a single hookup. I am never the one fantasizing about babies and marriage and roots.
“Syd,” he says, breaking into my thoughts. He’s stopped in front of his work building. I can see a woman in a set of dark Prada glasses, with lips that definitely do not need any more filler, entering the glass doors behind him. “If you want her, just tell her.” His eyes soften when they meet mine through the phone. “No games, no schemes.”
“Just the truth.”
“Fucking scary as that is.”
We hang up, him kissing at the screen and me cringing at the tenderness I feel as his proposition slices through my rib cage, puncturing my heart.
Us against the worldwas an excuse. My job is scaffolding holding up the crumbling walls of a life that hasn’t felt authentic for a long time, but I couldn’t see it that way until this weekend. Flying commercial planes is steady work, and the fact that it keeps me inthe sky, away from building a well-rounded life, hasn’t worked for years.
Even when I’m not in the air, work requires hours outside the plane for detailing flight plans, prepping the crews, assessing weather patterns. The work is never monotonous but somehow still tedious. It’s work that drains me as much as it feeds my need for adventure.
I’ve used work to explain away my reticence about long-term love.
But if Cadence wants to make a go of this thing, work will have to change.
For one of us, at least.
And it’s not just work that will have to change. I can see how every part of my life will be touched by falling in love with Ranger Girl.
Isn’t that also the meaning of the Sun and the Moon in tarot? I looked up the meaning for myself, hoping for some other take besides Moira’s. The internet said that when these two cards are together, the uncertainty of the Moon is given the warm light of the Sun, leading to clarity, change, and vision for the future.
Being with Cadence is like walking through the dark and out into the light. I feel capable of asking myself big questions and not steamrolling a half-truth as my answer.
This whole train of thought gives me another one.
If I only have a couple more days with her guaranteed, I want to make sure I make them count. I flip over onto my stomach, reaching for the brochure on the nightstand that details all the “romantic and relaxing” activities that Solvang and the surrounding area have to offer.
I’m going to take Ranger Girl on a real live date.
Just the two of us.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Cadence
Meet me in the butterfly garden at the Victorian Inn. Come hungry.
I followed Sydney’s instructions to a location I have never been, not in any of the times I’ve visited Solvang. When I pull up outside the bed-and-breakfast, I’m taken in by what I see. A beautifully restored Victorian home, three stories tall, painted yellow with white trim, the intricate trim’s woodwork details popping out in a deep rusty red. I cut the engine on my rental car and step out.
I follow the map I found online that shows the grounds around the inn. There are multiple gardens, but the butterfly garden is at the edge of the grounds near the greenbelt of trees that lines the boundary of the property. I take the path that leads away from the Victorian house, winding through a rose garden, past a small cobblestone seating area where a few guests eat brunch. Eventually I come up to a small gate with a curved trellis overhead. It’s been planted with passionflower, which blooms in bright burnt orange.A small wooden sign that readsJune’s Butterfly Gardentells me I’m in the right place.
I press through the gate and round a slight bend in the path where, on a deep green knoll of grass, stands Sydney. Beside her is a yellow-and-green picnic blanket with a basket I assume contains food. Staked into the ground beside the blanket is one of those wooden wine holders with two cups secured inside and full of what look like mimosas.
But my eyes don’t want to focus on the scene around me.
They want to focus on her.
Her blond hair is down, long and straight and shiny. She wears a deep orange dress that ties at the neckline and cinches in to accentuate her curves. Pearl earrings catch the light, and her fitted denim jacket is rolled up at the cuffs.
“What’s this about?” I ask her, swallowing the frog of nerves in my throat. I adjust my deep purple button-down, hoping I am dressed appropriately for whatever she has planned. I close the gap between us.
“Just a little brunch date,” she says, bending to grab our glasses. “Ranger Girl.”
I don’t bite back my smile at the nickname. I want her to see that I like it.
I like her.
