Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 69877 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69877 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
“But you’ve been open with me about that from the start,” he says, leaning forward with a gentle half-joking, half-sad smile. He spreads his hands to the side slightly and playfully raises his eyebrows. “I’m a willing participant here, Miranda.”
“Yes, but you’re a willing adult,” I say gently. “It’s not just about you and me.”
He blows out a sigh. “Kylee.”
I nod. “We both know she’s no longer looking at me as just her tutor.”
His eyes shadow. He rubs a hand over his neck. “She did ask the other day if I was going to invite her mom to our wedding, or if I thought that would be weird.”
I let out a startled, dismayed laugh. “Oh dear. So you see my point. I can’t let her keep hoping for a future that I just don’t see happening. Especially if things work out with Stanford. I can’t break her heart.”
“It’s inconvenient,” Christian says, smiling, “that your reasons for breaking up with me make me like you even more.”
“I like you, too,” I say honestly. “But—”
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he says affably, holding up a hand and then standing. “Your skill at breakup speeches doesn’t mean I want to hear it again. Ego, and all that.”
Damn. He really is likable.
“Right. Of course.”
I stand as well and walk Christian to the front door.
He opens the door, and, placing a hand on the doorjamb, drums his fingers thoughtfully as he looks at me.
“What’s the other part?” he asks.
“Hmm?”
“You explained that you couldn’t keep using me for the sake of your research. And let Kylee get hurt in the process. And the probable move to California. You said those were a big part of the reason you’re breaking up with me. What’s the other?”
“Oh.” Maybe I’m not great at breakups after all, because my mind reels but I come up with a blank. “I don’t know.”
“Sure you do,” he says with a small smile. “Or maybe you don’t. But I do.”
“You do?” I blink in confusion.
“Sure.” Christian taps the door once with an open palm and steps out onto the porch before giving me a last one of those perfect, charming smiles. “He lives next door.”
AQUARIUS SEASON
The Waning Moon in Pisces is an ideal time to indulge in some self-care. Treat yourself to the facial or pedicure, but don’t neglect to pamper your emotional self as well. Changes lie ahead that will require your head and heart to be in full alignment.
Lillian insisted I come visit her in Florida. She claims it’s over concern for my vitamin D levels and a desperate need for conversation that doesn’t involve hemorrhoid cream or yarn, but from the moment I’ve arrived, her real motive is clear:
Assessing the damage following my breakup with Christian.
From the moment I arrived four days ago, it’s been nothing but Breakup Martinis (an unfortunate combination of raspberry cordial, coconut rum, and gin), chocolate for dinner, and movie marathons starring anything with Spencer Tracy and Katharine Hepburn.
In any other situation, I’d have preferred wine, potato chips, and Tom Hanks/Meg Ryan. But I’m solely in Lillian’s orbit, and her special brand of pampering is apparently exactly what I need, because even though I was feeling far from brokenhearted after ending things with Christian, I’m feeling the most carefree I have in years during this visit.
Though—and perhaps it’s simply because of my horoscope—as relaxed and happy as I am, I can’t help but feel like I’m also on the precipice of something. A calm before a storm in which everything changes.
And of course, everything is about to change.
It may only be late January, but the end of my sabbatical is approaching—at least the unofficial date I’ve set for myself at the end of April. It’s not quite the end of the official academic calendar, but it’s close enough, and gives me a bit more time to shift gears toward my reentry into the academic world.
I’m not sure what it means that April feels awfully close.
Too close.
I’m lying beside Lillian’s pool, trying not to think about it, and obeying her command to “catch some rays,” though I’m pretty sure the rays don’t stand a chance of penetrating the thick layer of SPF I’ve slathered on.
Lillian steps out onto the patio and lets out a long whistle, reminiscent of a construction worker catcalling the heroine of an old movie. “I’ve been worried about your broken heart, but seeing you now in a bikini, I think it’s the boy I should be worrying about.”
I smile but roll my eyes good-naturedly behind my sunglasses. “Yes, I’m sure he’s mourning my complete lack of curves.”
“Voluptuous is only one version of sexy,” she says, settling in an Adirondack chair beside me. “And you know, there is something extra going on with you since I saw you last. Not in your physical body, but your aura. What is it?” she asks.