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)
“So until I read Christian’s chart, he can be a match and not a match. But if I look, then I’ll know.”
Archer lets out a small sigh and steps up on the ledge of his roof toward mine, his toes just tipping over the side. I’m standing on the edge of mine as well, so we’re face-to-face, his scent as unidentifiable and compelling as ever.
“Look,” he says a bit reluctantly. “I’m the last person who should be giving romantic advice. I don’t do the whole loyal, doting, one-partner thing.”
“Not anymore, you mean. You were engaged.”
“The fact that you’re speaking in past tense pretty much says it all. But my point is, I don’t think your hesitation about reading Christian’s chart has anything to do with astrology.”
“It has everything to do with astrology—”
“And I don’t think you’re afraid that he won’t be a match,” Archer says, speaking over my objection. “I think you’re afraid that he will be. Because it means based on the rules you’ve set for yourself for this year, you’ll have to put yourself out there. That’s the part you’re scared of.”
I swallow loudly because his words feel uncomfortably… true.
“Well,” I say after a long pause. “I guess there is some good news to all this.”
“What’s that?” he asks.
“It’s just… No matter what his chart says, there’s no way he and I can be more incompatible than you and me. That’s something, right?”
I don’t realize I’ve reached out to touch him until my thumb absently rubs the smudge on his forehead. Startled by the contact, even though I initiated it, my gaze drops from his forehead to his eyes, finding him watching me intently.
“Yes, Randy,” he says a little gruffly as I let my hand drop. “That’s definitely something.”
* * *
An hour later, I look down at my and Christian’s natal charts.
To say that the universe has given its blessing would be an understatement. If my various references on synastry are even close to accurate? He and I are almost a perfect match in nearly every way.
In fact, astrologically speaking, Christian Hughes is basically made for me. Among other things, his Jupiter is in Libra in the fifth house, which apparently rounds my love language. And he’s a Sagittarius rising and sun, which is my seventh-house ruler.
I press my lips together, wondering why the giddy feeling I’m expecting feels a lot like apprehension.
Then I scowl. It’s Archer’s fault. Archer, who basically called me a chicken.
To prove him wrong, I pick up my phone.
And ask Christian Hughes on a date.
LIBRA SEASON
Big change is on the horizon, and the anticipation of it will have you feeling adrift in your own thoughts. Your judgment and intuition are a bit hazy today, dear Gemini. Trust a friend to get you through it. They’ll be able to see the situation with a clarity you currently can’t.
I think I’m going to vomit,” I say, setting a hand to my stomach. “Maybe I should cancel.”
“You’re not going to cancel,” Daphne says firmly as she continues rifling through my closet. “And that barfy feeling is just butterflies. Before a first date, butterflies are a good thing, trust me.”
Since I’ve been out of the dating game a good while longer than my best friend, I probably should trust her. But knowing butterflies are a good omen doesn’t make them any more comfortable. For a fleeting second, I wish I could spend the night eating leftovers with Archer before bickering on the roof. No butterflies there, just comfy irritation.
Daphne looks over her shoulder. “This your entire wardrobe? Never mind, stupid question.” She blows out a breath and turns back to the closet. “Okay. Brown it is.”
“I have colors other than brown!” I say.
She steps aside and gestures toward the closet. Prove it.
I stand and pull out one of my favorite plaid blazers. “See. This has red.”
“Babe, that’s like two percent red. The other ninety-eight is shades of… what would you call that?”
“Brown is a very flattering color on me,” I insist.
She shakes her head in exasperation, but I’m quite confident that I am correct on this point. And I like what I’m wearing now. My dark brown turtleneck and khaki pants complement my medium-brown hair, dark brown eyes, and freckles in a pleasing, monochromic kind of way.
I’m apparently alone in thinking this, because while Daphne may seem the easygoing one, I recognize the stubborn set of that orange-red mouth as she continues to rifle through my limited clothing options.
Trust a friend… They’ll be able to see the situation with a clarity you currently can’t.
I go to the dresser and pull out a light blue cashmere sweater. “Better?”
“Perfect,” Daphne declares, pulling a pair of navy slacks out of the closet and handing them over. “Now, let’s talk shoes. No Birks.”
“I wasn’t going to wear Birks,” I say, affronted. “I do own heels, you know.”