Page 31 of The Sun and the Moon

Julia’s fingers reach on instinct toward Kit, who leans toward her. It’s like they subtly lay claim on each other while not taking ownership or control. It makes my cheeks ache with the sweetness.

“We just got engaged a month ago,” Kit says with a shy smile.

“Hold on, Kit,” Julia says. “Is Moira your mom?”

I take a heavy breath, just as the waiter returns with my gin and tonic.

“She…” I struggle, a fish on a hook. “…is.”

Kit nearly drops her deck. “I can’t believe this.” She looks to the brunette, who is frowning now. Her face drops. “Why are you making that face, Julia?”

She doesn’t snap out of it right away.

“She was acting shady about your cards. I’m just trying to figure out why the daughter of a psychic would be surprised to see a tarot reader with their deck out in public.”

I roll my eyes. Clearly this woman is not going to make anything easy for me.

“I wasn’t so much surprised as I was freaked out . My relationship with tarot is a little rocky,” I say, followed by a deep and generous drink from my glass.

“Your relationship with tarot?” Kit asks, her hand tightening around her deck. “Or Madame Moira?” Her big eyes seem to see through me, right to the vulnerable center I like to keep walled away and hidden.

“No offense, but baring my soul to strangers isn’t really my thing.”

“Oh,” Julia chuckles. “I get that—really. But you will.”

Now it’s my turn to quirk my brows. “Excuse me?”

“You’ll tell her,” Julia continues with a sly grin. “People love unloading their problems on Kit.”

Kit blushes pink and says, “You don’t have to tell me.”

“I’ve had years of practice not talking to people.”

“And you’re still amazingly bad at it,” Julia jibes. Kit shoots her a look, soft lips with tense eyes. As if she’s trying to say be nice without saying it out loud.

“I assume if you’re here, you must be clients. Because Moira really isn’t known for befriending other members of the mystic community.”

“Oh no, she’s not.” Kit shuffles the deck. Swish swish swish. My gaze lands and sticks, watching her hands, the amethyst ring, the row of bracelets catching light, the gold foil on the edges of the cards shimmering. “We aren’t clients, though.”

I’m curious and I shouldn’t be. If I give in, I fear she’ll get the whole story out of me without much prodding.

I can tell this woman has a special knack with people—though not in the same way Moira does.

Not manipulative, not like a power struggle.

She just feels like the kind of person you want to trust, and if you do, you won’t regret it.

“If you’re not clients, then how do you know her?”

Kit smiles, shuffles her cards. “We met her on a dare when we were twelve.”

“At Haunt O’ Ween fair in Old Pasadena,” Julia interjects.

“She gave us a joint reading, even though we didn’t ask for one,” Kit continues.

I raise my brows. “Sounds right.”

“Yeah, it was weird,” Julia says.

“So weird, but kind of fun,” Kit adds with a wink at me. “And it stuck with us for…forever, honestly.”

“Because she predicted that you were soulmates,” I say, a cold pit forming in my gut.

“Twin Flames.” Julia this time, her voice softer than before. Her gaze travels to Kit, landing and setting up camp. “Mirrors to each other. Destined to break apart, with a promise that we would always find our way back to each other.”

Jealousy twinges in my gut at the way she relays this. For everyone else, Moira provides a story that makes their soulmate prediction feel like a fairy tale. For me, she inserted herself in the story like a fairy godmother with a bad attitude.

“And it happened.” Kit takes over again.

“We were best friends until we became more. Then I freaked out and ghosted Julia right before I left for college. It took us ten years, but we found our way back.” Her eyes travel to Julia as one of her hands, the one closest to her fiancée, releases the deck and reaches out. Their fingers twine.

More spikes of jealousy prick in my stomach. This time at the sight of their closeness. I drown it with some gin and try to get control of my face. When Kit looks back at me, I can see that I’m not fast enough by the way her blond brow quirks with concern.

“We went to the festival last year, but she wasn’t there,” Kit says, plodding forward despite my expression. “Julia would have been happy to leave it at that”—Julia taps her nose, nailed it —“but I kept thinking about it, how it felt like this loose end, so I googled her.”

“What a trip that was,” Julia slides in. She’s drained her beer, and her eyes search the room for a waiter. “I bought one of her books on Amazon.”

“I read it,” Kit jabs and Julia snorts.

“You outlined the highlights for me, babe.”

Kit rolls her eyes good-naturedly and turns her attention back to me. “We booked an appointment so we could tell her she was right.”

Their being here is starting to make sense now.

If they told her about the success of her reading, there’s no doubt she invited them here to make her look good in front of Rick’s friends.

I can only imagine that the buttoned-up retired-pilot crowd he likely invited will be coming here with a hefty dose of side-eye about his new fiancée.

“You’re skeptical,” Julia says, and I realize my face must be out of control, showing my thoughts again in a very uncharacteristic way. Her eyes glance over me, reading me with a whole different set of skills than Kit’s.

I shake my head. “Not of the story. I’ve been her daughter my whole life; I’ve heard a lot of those stories.”

“Then what?” Kit queries. The cards in her hands get one more shuffle.

She’s been readying them for you. I feel the thought, force my focus away from the cards and back to the tarot reader’s face.

“There’s this girl.” The words drop from my lips, too heavy to hold inside anymore.

“And despite my better judgment—despite the very real truth that she fulfills my own soulmate prediction”—I pause when Kit’s breath catches in her throat—“despite the fact that everything in me wants to stay far away from anything that gives Moira more power in my life…”

I look between them for a sign of surprise, but what I find is that both of their faces fix in very different—though no less transparent—expressions of understanding.

“I think I’m falling for her.”

Kit’s lips curve up.

Her eyes rest on mine, caring and sure. She extends the deck in her hand.

“Pick a card.”

I’m tugged, like a rope has been tied around my hand, like my body is possessed. My heart pounds as my fingers reach to cut the stack of cards into two sections. I rest the one in my hand on the table next to Kit’s wineglass. My eyes drift back up to hers, awaiting instruction.

“Which one?” she asks me, her voice steady, reassuring. I point to the stack in her hands, too breathless to speak. Too shocked that I’m doing this at all. She places the stack I picked on top of the other, her hand hovering above the cards for a second. Her fingers give a little wiggle.

She flips the card over to face me.

The Ten of Cups stares up from the table. And my heart leaps. This card can only mean one thing.

The exact thing I’m trying to avoid.