Miranda in Retrograde

9. Libra Season

LIbrA SEASON

The Sun is fully in Libra, and you’ll be feeling that in a big way today, dear Gemini. Libra season is a great time to build relationships, and you’ll begin one today with lasting impact.

Christian wants to see me.

Yay!

As a potential tutor for his daughter.

Yay?

When I’d told Daphne about the conversation, she’d sounded disappointed on my behalf. And she’d had a point. Would it have been a little more heart fluttery if he’d asked me to drinks? Or dinner? Or as long as we both shall live?

Kidding.

Mostly.

But the more I think about it, the more I like the way it’s played out. I like that Christian seems to value my brain and field of study. Most guys’ eyes glaze over the second I mention the big bang, and that had even included Daniel.

And the fact that he’d trust me to even meet his daughter? It’s romantic, in its own way. At least that’s what I’ve been telling myself these past couple of weeks.

When I’d called him, Christian had been on his way to London for a weeklong business trip, and the week after that his daughter, Kylee, was traveling to Orlando to visit her maternal grandparents.

Today was the first available day for the three of us to meet, and I’m excited.

Okay, fine, I’m so nervous that I nearly threw up when I was brushing my teeth this morning.

Which is ridiculous .

I’m a thirty-one-year-old woman, I’m comfortable speaking in front of hundreds of people, I no longer bat an eye when I appear live on national television to talk about lunar eclipses.

But for some reason, a perfectly friendly businessman and his nine-year-old daughter are sending me into a tailspin.

It’s just that… I have this eerie feeling that my horoscope was right about that meeting with Christian. That it was important. And this morning, the same day I’m meeting them, it just so happens I’m beginning a relationship with “lasting impact.”

Even more eerie is that we were supposed to meet yesterday . Yesterday, when my horoscope had said nothing about an important meeting of any kind. I’d had to push the meeting to today after my dishwasher sprang an aggressive leak.

(Incidentally, yesterday’s horoscope had mentioned a household emergency…)

Even if I wasn’t committed to living my horoscope life as purely and fully as possible, the coincidence level of it all feels high.

To tame the butterflies, I’ve tried to shift my focus from Christian to Kylee, and the prospect of tutoring her.

Although academia was always my goal, I’ve never really considered teaching children. Or even high school students. It was always going to be Dr . Reed, always college students, always at a prestigious college…

Which I realize makes it sound like I was a precocious child likely to turn into an elitist, insufferable adult. I’m working on that last part.

But the point is that teaching kids has never been on my radar. And now that the seed’s been planted, I can’t stop thinking about it. The prospect of being able to shape a young mind, to foster her excitement about physics, promises a completely different sort of satisfaction than I’m used to.

A couple of minutes ahead of their scheduled arrival, I do a quick scan of the kitchen, making sure my astrology books are tucked well out of sight. As much as I’m trying to own the whole Horoscope Project thing, I just can’t bring myself to introduce a child to the concept of being a Scorpio, or whatever she is, until she understands first and foremost that it’s a constellation in the southern celestial hemisphere, nestled near the center of the Milky Way. I want her to understand what it is before she decides to take the leap of faith that it has any bearing on her life here.

Of course, I have to get hired first.

The doorbell rings just as I’m tucking the moon chart I’ve started keeping on the refrigerator into a drawer.

I open the door to father and daughter, and…

Holy butterflies.

He’s better than I remembered. So much better. And the connection when his eyes meet mine feels even more charged.

A little unnerved by my own reaction, I force my attention to his daughter.

Kylee is cute in a wide-eyed, serious kind of way. She has long dark curly hair pulled into a drooping ponytail, huge blue eyes, and braces.

“Hi there! You must be Kylee,” I say, deliberately focusing my attention on the girl to stop my gawking.

“Obviously. Did you think he was Kylee?” she asks with a tilt of her head, though there’s a noticeable lack of snottiness, just a genuine curiosity over my stating of the obvious.

Her father lets out the tiniest of sighs. “Kylee.”

She looks up. Blinks. “What?”

I smile to reassure them both that I take no offense and shift my gaze back to the handsome man in my doorway. “Come on in. Thanks so much for the last-minute reschedule.”

Christian smiles again. “Not a problem. We’re just excited that we could meet with the Dr. Reed.”

I raise my eyebrows, and he smiles, meeting my eyes. “I did a bit of research.”

“Ah yes. My infamous Wikipedia page,” I say with a bit of a groan. I’ve never minded having such a public profile in the past, but now that I’m no longer in the public eye, it’s strangely vulnerable to know that someone might learn more about me from the internet than from me.

Of course, since I’d done the same violating creep on Archer, I can’t get too annoyed.

“So, since I’m on sabbatical right now, I’m thinking we skip that Dr. Reed thing and go with just Miranda?” I say, looking up at him.

And then I feel it. Something happens with my eyelashes.

Did they just… flutter ?

Oh god. Am I flirting?

The ever-so-slight eye roll from Kylee tells me that a) yes, I am, b) I’m not doing it well, and c) it’s not the first time a woman’s turned all melty in front of her father.

“So, you’re into physics, huh?” I ask, trying to pull myself together.

The way that her eyes light up at the subject warms my heart a little, reminding me of a long-ago Miranda who loved the subject for the sake of it, not as a career path.

“ Totally ,” she says. “But my school’s science program sucks.

“Stinks,” she amends quickly after a look from Christian. “The only thing we learned are the planets of our solar system.”

“As if that’s the only one,” I scoff.

“Right?!” Her voice is full of enthusiasm that tells me we’re going to get along just fine. “My teacher didn’t even know what I meant when I asked her about the spiral arms!”

Christian blinks once, and I smile at him. “Milky Way stuff.”

“Ah. I love candy bars! I know, I know,” he says, making a calm-down motion with his hands to a scandalized Kylee. “No more dad jokes.”

“He tells them a lot,” Kylee says.

I don’t mind.

“So, anything in particular you’re wanting to learn?” I ask her.

“Well.” Kylee tightens her ponytail. “I looked up the curriculum for your The Universe course online. That sounds like an okay place to start.”

“Honey, Dr.—Miranda teaches college students. I think—”

“No, no, Kylee’s right again,” I interrupt, smiling. “That’s a great place to start.”

Bright as Kylee seems, I’ll likely need to adjust the actual textbooks to something more age appropriate, maybe simplify the subject matter a bit. But there’s no reason I can’t structure the lesson plan in the same way.

“So, how many days a week are you thinking?” I ask, directing the question to Christian, hoping that my eye contact is normal and not adoring.

“Five days,” Kylee says quickly.

He gives her a telling look. “You have soccer Monday and Wednesday. Remember?”

The way her nose scrunches says she does remember but was hoping he forgot.

Christian’s gaze returns to mine before he flicks his eyes upward for the briefest of seconds, all exasperated dad, but lovingly so.

“How are your Tuesdays and Thursdays?” he asks me.

“Wide open. The sabbatical thing, remember?”

“What’s that?” Kylee asks.

It’s what happens when your entire life falls apart around you.

“It’s one of the perks of professor life,” I pseudo-lie. “The idea is to take a break from the classroom and campus life to explore new ideas.”

“What ideas are you exploring?”

“Um.” I think of my ever-growing stack of astrology books tucked into a closet. “Star stuff?”

“She’s dumbing it down for you, Dad,” Kylee says, giving her father a comforting pat on the arm.

“I appreciate that,” Christian says, and the way his eyes crinkle at the corners makes me melt a little. “Afternoons? Weekends? What’s best?”

“I can work with either,” I reply. “Whatever’s good for your schedule. Or your ex-wife’s, if she’ll be the one dropping Kylee off.”

I mentally cringe at the blatant curiosity in my voice.

“They never married. Mom and Dad hooked up in college. I was an accident,” Kylee announces in a matter-of-fact way that makes it clear she has zero hang-ups about this.

Christian rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “Mornings are a little tricky for me, but I’ve got a pretty flexible schedule in the late afternoon.”

“He’s on the phone a lot ,” Kylee chimes in, doing an exaggerated impression of someone yapping on the phone.

“Thanks for that, Ky,” he says, giving her a look.

“How’s 4 p.m.?” I ask.

“Four is great,” Kylee says, pouncing as though afraid the opportunity will disappear if she doesn’t act fast. “Right? Dad?”

The way he looks at her makes me think he’s wrapped around her finger, but happily so.

“Sure. I can drop her off at four. How long do these tutoring things last? An hour?”

“I have no idea, but I’d say let’s make it two. If Kylee’s down,” I say.

Kylee nods eagerly, but before she can reply, there’s a sharp knock at my front door. Before I can reply, it opens, and my obnoxious neighbor appears. “Hey, Randy, did you water the basil again? I already told you—”

Archer breaks off when he sees I’m not alone. “Oh. Hey.”

“Hello,” Kylee says with what I can only describe as a purr.

Oh, Kylee. You poor thing. If Archer’s special brand of scruffy impatience is her type, she’s got a rough road ahead.

I make introductions. “Archer, this is Christian and Kylee Hughes. Christian and Kylee, this is my neighbor, Archer. Who doesn’t knock.”

“I knocked,” he says with a frown. “Did you not hear me knock?”

“Miranda’s going to tutor me!” Kylee blurts out, her voice suddenly much too loud.

“Yeah? Hopefully not in botany. She sucks,” Archer says, adding a wink for Kylee.

“Archer and I share a greenhouse,” I explain to Christian.

I don’t add that I’m sharing it reluctantly . But it was part of the deal we struck for him helping me build the thing. It’s half his, although why he insisted on the provision, I don’t know. He spends more time criticizing my care of the plants than anything else.

“Archer. I love that name,” Kylee gushes as she stares with starry eyes at the brooding artist and royal pain in my side.

Poor thing’s flirting skills are nearly as awkward as mine.

“It’s his last name,” I add, though I don’t really know why. “First name is Simon.”

I’d learned that from Wikipedia, too.

He catches my eye and glares.

Oh yeah, that’s why I pointed it out. He hates the name Simon.

“An urban greenhouse. That’s really cool,” Christian chimes in. Then he sets his hand atop Kylee’s head. “Come on, kid. Let’s let Miranda get back to her day.” He glances back at me. “If the rates we texted about are okay, and we haven’t scared you off in person, how’s next Tuesday work as a start date?”

“Perfect. And thanks so much for the opportunity,” I say quickly, not quite ready to let this perfect specimen walk away before I’ve made an impression. “I mean, it’ll be nice to stay sharp on the cosmos during the sabbatical.”

Oh dear god.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Archer’s lips press together and roll inward, as though holding in a laugh.

I say goodbye to the Hugheses, managing not to say anything else to embarrass myself further.

Archer waits until I close the door and then leans a shoulder against it, smirking down at me. “So. That was… something.”

I groan. “Was it that bad?”

“An improvement from the phone call. Barely. Just one little note—”

“What?”

His hand lifts to his face, fingers brushing the side of his mouth. “Right here. You’ve got some drool…”

I make a grumbling noise and turn to head back to the kitchen. “Since you’re so good at seeing yourself in, I’m sure you’ll have no problem seeing yourself out,” I call over my shoulder.

“What about our basil?”

“It’s fine. Go back to being a weird recluse in your weird studio!”

I actually don’t know that his studio’s weird, just that it’s very off-limits, which he’s told me about nine million times even though I haven’t so much as set foot in his house, much less his precious studio.

Some of us have manners.

“I’m taking a day off. Not all of us gotta stay sharp on the cosmos,” he calls after me.

I’m in the other room now, but I extend my hand and a middle finger in an unfamiliar, but very satisfying, gesture.

I hear him chuckle, and then the front door opens and closes once more.

I head straight for my laptop and begin researching books about astrology and relationships.

Suddenly I find I’m very interested to learn what the Horoscope Project will mean for my love life.