Page 93 of The Sun and the Moon
As desperate as I was to follow Cadence, I wanted to respect her whispered, wounded request. I don’t want to be a person who pushes against her boundaries. I don’t want to force her to hear me out until she’s ready—if she ever is. I didn’t tell her about the reading because I didn’t want her to push me away, and that was selfish.
But the reading wasn’t why I fell for her.
“Say something, Birdie,” Dad says. He’s still sitting at the foot of the bed.
I’m still trying to process what he said, how it could be true. How could he keep so much from me when it was supposed to beus against the world? How had I never seen any of the signs? But I guess I wasn’t looking for proof my dad wasn’t perfect—I was just looking for a way I could be perfect enough for the both of us.
“Any other lies you wanna get off your chest?” I snipe. “Am I adopted? Are you actually my dad or a doppelgänger switched out by fairies?”
“I think I’m clean out for the day,” he replies with none of his usual cheeriness. “The last couple of decades, actually.”
“Do you still gamble?”
“Mostly…no. Once, a few months ago, which is why I owe Greg. But I have bad credit card debt—” He cuts himself off, looking freshly embarrassed. “And I don’t have a membership at the club anymore because of it.”
“Good riddance. I hated the club.” He balks and so I double down. “It’s classist, just like the sport of golf. Historically and even presently, racism and misogyny are the name of the game.” His eyes round. As if he’s never thought of it in that way and doesn’t really want to now.
“I miss the sauna,” he says with a sigh.
I snort and drop down to sit beside him on the bed. I should be angrier than I am. I should be more hurt. But overwhelmingly what I feel is relief. Like I can finally drop every ball in the air, let them all bounce out of reach, let them break if they’re frail. Being the perfect pilot daughter for my perfect pilot dad was a fallacy in more ways than one.
Dad isn’t perfect.
I don’t even know if I want to be a pilot.
“I shouldn’t have kept the gambling from you. I just kept thinking,I’ll get this under control. I’m just using it to cope,” he says. His eyes trail up and over to the cards on the table. “Magic helped. It mostly curbed the feelings—”
“Did you ever think to just, I don’t know, confront your feelings?” I interrupt.
“Did you?” He lifts his brow.
“Fair,” I grunt.
He continues. “Then came Moira. And she got it—me. Shesaw the flaws and didn’t try to change them. She worked with them, and it got a lot easier to believe there was another side to this coin. More than just surviving.”
It’s silly how much I relate to that feeling. Survival isn’t living. Going through the motions isn’t happiness.
“You should have told me about the wedding.” This is the part that stings the most, stupidly. The fresh lie he chose without thinking twice.
“I should have,” he says. “But I hope you don’t let all of this sour whatever has started between you and Cadence.”
“I don’t know if that’s up to me, Dad. I lied to her—”
“Omitted a detail—”
“There’s less nuance in honesty than you and Moira seem to think there is,” I scold him, and I am pleased he appears mostly repentant. “I was happy to let her forget about that reading, to keep the facts of it a secret, because her knowing the truth about it might change her actions. It’s like in quantum mechanics. Reality doesn’t exist unless observed.”
“But observing can alter reality,” he adds. “You saw the cards, and you decided you wanted toseewhat would happen if you followed the suggestion.”
I swallow the lump forming in my throat. I can see how the meaning in the reading has been playing out between us ever since we met. The clarity that has come from every interaction, for me and for her. That give-and-take that only happens with an equal connection.
The Two of Cups. That cute gay card wasn’t kidding.
Moira walks back through the door, which has been hanging open this whole time. Cadence isn’t with her.
“I don’t want to interrupt,” Moira says, but she is going toanyway. “The invites will be delivered to the guests soon.” She withers, her face breaking down. The mastermind is not happy with the way the chess game is playing out.
I don’t feel bad for her, but Dad rushes to her side, taking her hands between his. Genuine affection and concern pour from his eyes.
