Chapter Thirty

Julia

I've already spilled two cups of coffee this morning and it's not even ten a.m. My brain is a puddle of memory, reliving last night, wishing to go back in time and do it all over again.

Not to change anything.

Just to be there.

This second cup of coffee is spilling over a table on the restaurant patio where a massive breakfast buffet has been set up for all the guests, Love, Always staff, and other support staff—including Healer Arynne; the caterer, Javier; and everyone from Desert Roses, the floral designer for the whole event. Millie wanted to make sure the staff was feeling appreciated. I'm just grateful they'll at least be fed before all the intensity of final-day prep gets underway. Hangry employees and romantic bliss do not mix.

Zoe rescues my Wedding Day binder from the pool of brown liquid as I jolt up, grabbing napkins from the buffet table to blot it. Fortunately this cup was less than halfway full and most of the caffeine now courses through my veins. Zoe returns with a plate, gesturing for me to drop the soaked napkins on top.

"Thank you," I say. "Again."

She chuckles. "I should probably not comment on your dreamy-eyed, head-in-the-clouds energy since you're my boss—" She stutters at the word. A word I have scolded her for using many times before. I resist the urge, and she carries on. "But what the hell is going on? You're acting like you took a Xanax."

My shoulders shake as I chuckle, leaning back against the frame of the door. I can't sit back down because I'm too restless. Like there are ants in my pants, or maybe it's just that I want more of Kit in there.

"I don't know what you mean," I say with a sneaky quirk of my lips. Her face scrunches in disgust.

"Liar," she says, shoving the napkin plate into the hands of a passing waiter. "You're acting like a woman in love, and that is something I honestly never thought I would say to you." She stands beside me, surveying the patio. "No offense."

I'm a little taken aback that Zoe ever thought about my lack of a love life, but my endorphin-filled brain is too happy to dwell on it.

"Maybe I'm just feeling like I can finally ease up tension on the reins," I say, flicking my eyes to view her reaction in my peripheral vision. Her curtain of dark lashes pinches, just like her thick eyebrows.

"You've suggested this before and never followed through," Zoe replies.

"There's a first time for everything," I say.

Right then, there's an energy shift on the patio, and my eyes shoot in the direction I feel it coming from. Kit's presence is the dawn breaking pink and purple against a clear blue sky. Her hair is tucked into a messy bun on top of her head; a few spiraling waves dangle to brush the edge of her jawline. She's wearing a loose, pastel pink cropped sweatshirt and some tie-dye leggings, tennis shoes and no makeup.

I left her in bed this morning and it was the hardest thing I've done all year.

After we had sex last night, we stayed on the outdoor bed until the cold air became more than we could take and we had to move inside. But we didn't go straight to sleep. We talked like we'd never stopped talking, like time had folded in on itself and we were getting a do-over. The more I learned about her life since I'd last known her, the more I wanted to hold her close.

She told me about her parents splitting up, and how it felt like a cruel joke of fate when she first saw me here. She'd come to escape and instead she was given a karmic reunion.

She knows she's good at what she does and she loves helping people feel like they are in control of their destiny. Even if all she is doing is confirming a truth that they already know. If she could get higher-end clients, she'd be able to turn that into more lucrative jobs, which would give her more time to develop ideas for static income. Maybe a tarot deck , she said, or a course for manifesting .

Do you remember the lake house? she asked, her voice raspy, her eyes drooping. I spent a few summer weeks with her out there, sunbathing on the sand and using a beat-up red canoe to explore in the deeper waters. I go there in my mind when I start to feel the grip of anxiety. That spot where the beach curved out of view of the house.

Her eyes blinked closed.

You were the only one I ever trusted enough to take there in real life.

After hours of talking, I still feel like there's so much to learn.

Now, she's working her way around the buffet in Zoe's and my direction, and I'm not paying attention to what my face is doing, but Zoe certainly is. She's openly staring at me staring at Kit, mouth agape.

"Why are you making that face?" I ask under my breath.

"No way," she hisses. She looks from me to Kit and back. "You and Mystic Maven."

"That's not her name."

"Oh. My. God."

Kit approaches with her plate piled high. Eggs, bacon, a croissant, and a "breakfast salad," which is just salad at a different time of day. Our eyes connect and suddenly I don't care if Zoe sees me blush and therefore knows I'm acting a fool all because of Kit.

"Good morning," she says. She smiles and light catches on her translucent lip gloss. She flicks her gaze to Zoe, who does not fix her face. Kit's brows quirk. "Hello, Zoe, ready for the big day?"

I elbow Zoe. She's too busy staring to notice.

"She's had one too many espressos," I say.

"It's going to be a gorgeous day," Zoe chimes in. Finally.

Kit looks between us. I know she knows. I pray to any god who will listen that she doesn't make this a thing. Kit nibbles on her lip, but it's clearly just to bite back her growing smirk.

"See you ladies in a bit," she says. I don't exhale relief, but I sure as hell feel it.

As soon as Kit is gone, I turn to Zoe. I really can't believe I'm about to do this, but I am. I motion for her to follow me through the restaurant, through the lobby, and out in front of the hotel entrance. The fountain bubbles behind me when I turn to face her.

"Yes, Kit and I are a thing," I say. "We have a history, like, ancient history, and seeing her this weekend has totally thrown me for a loop and sent me spiraling down memory lane and made me realize I still have feelings for her, and it turns out she's into me, too."

Phew. It feels surprisingly good to say it out loud.

Zoe squeals and wriggles, reminding me of a seal who found the perfect sunny spot on the shore. She grips my hands and bounces up and down. She's genuine. She's happy for me. Warmth spreads across my chest as I watch her face break into the biggest, brightest smile. What the fuck is this feeling? It's a little like nausea, but a lot like drinking hot cocoa by a fire—comforting and sweet.

"Julia, this is incredible. I'm so happy to see you happy—and distracted." She adds the last bit with a shy smile. "You left the rehearsal and didn't have your walkie on last night. When you texted me that I was in charge until morning, I fully expected you to recant, show up at the takedown, or text me at three a.m. with a list of things I'd done incorrectly."

I want to be offended but I can't be. Everything she just said is one hundred percent something I would do (or have done).

"I don't want to be disrespectful," she adds, but I can feel the but in there. "I think you make it harder on yourself when you insist on retaining control. There's a cost, and despite your ability to deliver on your superhigh standards, I don't see how that will be sustainable when you're running your own business."

She braces for her words to sink in.

I lock her in my sights. "How long have you known?"

"Pretty much since you started the Instagram."

"Okay, wow, I'm just gonna blow past that." I suck in air through my nostrils and let it out in a meditative huff. "What's your honest opinion?" Zoe's expression sharpens; she clears her throat. Every move lets me know that this is the opportunity she has been waiting for.

"You're the best, and not just that I've worked for at the agency. I follow all the wedding TikToks, am up on the goings-on in the LA scene and beyond, and your work is impeccable. And I think that's because you get that what makes a good wedding isn't delivering on some laundry list of moments. It's not following trends or being ahead of them, even." Her eyes get cloudy and I wish I could look away from the display of emotion, but Zoe's vulnerability makes me respect her more. "What makes a good wedding is the people at the heart of it. The two people choosing each other, hoping it will be forever."

"Turning two into a family," I reply with the words I've held secret in my heart for so long about why I want to branch out on my own. Yes, it's for more control, but it's not the kind of control that can't let anyone help. It's the kind that creates such a strong vision that others want to help make it a reality.

"I'm just saying, if you want a right-hand woman, I'd like to be that."

I can't promise her a job but I want to. I think back to my oath with Kit. If I'm not pretending, holding back from who I am or what I want, then I shouldn't ignore this feeling. I have to be honest with Zoe, but that doesn't mean I can't give her hope.

"It's gonna be rocky and unpredictable for who knows how long, but there's no one I'd want as my right-hand woman more than you."

Her smile is a bright beacon of joy. "Then when you call me, I'll come."

It's starting to feel possible that everything I want for myself, my life life and my sex life, could actually fall into place. That the whole picture could be beautiful. That Kit was right when she asked if you can really be happy when one part of your life is cut off and withering. Even when things inevitably fall apart, and what's out of our control stays that way.

We be us through it all.