“Yeah,” Astrid said softly. “I get that.” When grief had taken over her own house as a child, she hadn’t known how to process it as anything less than something she’d caused. She and Delilah had spent the last few months trying to untangle their relationship as kids—one founded on rejection and anxiety—from this new life where they were trying to be halfway functioning stepsiblings.
“Anyway,” Jordan went on, “Simon and I would come to the Everwood in the summers to give my parents a break, and it was the only time of the year I felt really happy, felt like me.”
Realization settled over Astrid, both warm and heavy. “That’s why the inn means so much to you.”
Jordan nodded, took another sip of her drink. Then she laughed and slid a hand through her hair. “That and my entire life fell apart about a year ago, and this project is literally all I have.”
“Oh,” Astrid said, curiosity replacing any twinges of guilt she was currently experiencing. “What happened?”
“Shit,” Jordan muttered, then waved a hand. “Never mind. It’s not important.”
“No.” Astrid put a hand on her arm, just the very tips of her fingers. Jordan’s skin was warm, smooth, dappled with a random freckle here and there. She pulled her hand back. “It’s obviously really important.”
Jordan gulped back a large mouthful of bourbon, winced as she swallowed it. “Remember how I said I picture cancer when I beat the shit out of a kitchen cabinet?”
Astrid got a horrible sinking feeling in her stomach. “Yeah.” She found herself placing her fingertips back on Jordan’s arm, the barest brush of skin on skin.
Jordan sighed, eyes flicking to Astrid’s fingertips before focusing on the space in front of her. “My wife. Meredith. Diagnosed with breast cancer two years ago.”
Astrid reared back as though she’d been slapped. “My god. When did she... I mean... how long ago did she...” She couldn’t seem to getdieout of her mouth.
“Oh, she’s not dead,” Jordan said.
Astrid blinked. “She’s... she’s not.” It wasn’t a question, but Astrid was completely confused all the same.
Jordan shook her head, then knocked back another glug of liquor. “She survived. Been in remission now for, oh, I think she must be going on fourteen months?”
Astrid had no idea what to say. Jordan was married? She had a whole wife? Conflicting feelings swirled in Astrid’s gut—surprise, confusion, and... no, that couldn’t be jealousy in there too. Absolutely not. She shook her head, swallowed, and just said what she was thinking. “I don’t understand.”
“Join the club,” Jordan said, huffing a little mirthless laugh. Then she seemed to settle, her ruffled feathers smoothing out. She sighed and let her head drop back against the seat, throat exposed, eyes on the gilded ceiling. “Okay, I’ll say it fast.”
Astrid didn’t dare utter a word, didn’t even breathe as she waited for Jordan.
“She left me,” Jordan said. “After she got better, once she was officially in remission. Said cancer made her realize she wasn’t living the life she really wanted. She said she loved me, but as her best friend, and, apparently, she didn’t want a best friend for a partner. She wanted a destiny.”
Jordan lifted her head and looked at Astrid then. “Can you believe that?” she said. “A fuckingdestiny.And I guess holding her hair back while she puked from the chemo, scouring the Internet for real human hair wigs, setting my alarm for every two hours at night so I could wake up and make sure she was still fucking breathing, wasn’t quite thedestinyshe had in mind.”
Astrid could only blink at her.
“Don’t get me wrong,” Jordan went on, sighing. “I’m thankful as hell she beat it. Cancer is a bitch, and I would never wish that on anyone. It’s just... after we went through all of that together, things didn’t quite turn out the way I thought they would.”
“Yeah,” Astrid said softly.
“And the best part? She still texts me, oh, every couple of months, just to”—Here Jordan shot finger quotes into the air—“check in, because apparently, she’s taking that best friends bullshit all the way.”
Words escaped Astrid. Fled from every brain cell in her head. Crowd noise grew louder around them, laughter and chatter, the rattle of ice in glasses.
“Oh, and here’s a little cosmic twist for you,” Jordan said, sitting up suddenly and grabbing her bag from the seat next to her. She rummaged around in the brown vegan leather, then came out with a colorful paper rectangle a little bigger than a playing card. “How’s this for fucking destiny?”
She held the card out and Astrid took it, peering at the image. It featured two women, both with different shades of brown skin, onewith long black hair and one with short. They faced each other, and each held a golden cup in their hands.Two of Cupswas printed across the bottom of the card.
“A Tarot card?” Astrid asked.
“Not just any Tarot card,” Jordan said. “The Tarot card I drew this morning. Oh, and yesterday. Three days ago. Four times last week, and so on and so on for the past month.”
Astrid looked from Jordan to the card, from the card back to Jordan.
Jordan laughed and snatched the card back, glaring down at it. “It’s the soul mates card. Perfect pairs. True love.”
