I consulted the star map before moving the telescope to a different point of reference. “In Greek mythology, there’s a story that, when Mount Olympus was being attacked, Aphrodite and Eros fled by tying themselves together, changing into fish, and throwing themselves into a river. The act was commemorated by putting a pair of fish into the sky.” I glanced back up at him and offered him my place.
Penn raised his eyebrows in surprise and then looked down into the telescope. “The fish. Pisces, of course.”
“The very end of the zodiac. And not the best story if you ask me, but I claim it anyway.”
“You’re a Pisces?” he asked, glancing up at me.
“Oh, yeah. My birthday is February twenty-eighth. I fit it a hundred percent. Water sign—swimmer, romantic, dreamer. What’s your birthday?”
“June twenty-first.”
“Summer solstice,” I said in surprise. “On the cusp of Cancer or Gemini?”
He shrugged. “I always claimed Gemini.”
“Yeah, you aren’t much of a Cancer. But Gemini. Huh.” I took his place at the telescope and began to maneuver it.
“What?”
“I just would have pegged you as a Sagittarius with your love of philosophy.” I offered him the telescope again. “Here, take a look. Gemini has a much better story. The twins, Castor and Pollux, were the sons of the queen of Sparta. They weren’t real twins really. Castor, the queen had with her husband, the king of Sparta, but Pollux was an immortal born of Zeus. When Castor died in the Trojan War, Pollux asked his father to make him an immortal, so they could live out their days as brothers for all of eternity. Instead, he put them both in the sky as twins truly.”
“How do you know all of this?” Penn asked. His eyes were wide and speculating. “Here I thought, I’d be the one showing off my knowledge. Who knew that you would completely trump me?”
“Well, most kids get bedtime stories with fairy tales and nursery rhymes. I grew up on horoscopes and the stories behind the constellations.”
“That’s kind of amazing.”
“Eh,” I said with a shrug. “My mom is really into New Age stuff. Hence the ritual burning you unceremoniously walked in on. No matter what you do…some of it manages to stick with you. Plus, I aced my mythology class in college.”
He laughed. “I bet you did. That actually sounds like such an interesting background. I can’t imagine the things that you learned from her. Can you read my palm or tarot cards or a crystal ball?”
“Whoa there. Crystal-ball reading is serious work.” I giggled as I watched Penn adjust the telescope for himself. “But yeah…I could probably read your palm, and it’s been a while for tarot cards for me. People usually get mad when I read for them anyway. I predict a lot of death.”
He snorted. “You’re something else.”
“Fact.”
“Here, look at this one. I thought of you when I picked it out.”
“What am I looking for?”
“A half-circle of stars like this,” he said, pointing it out for me. “It’s Corona Borealis and supposed to be a crown.”
“Do you know the story?” I asked.
“I do. Do you?”
I grinned up at him. “Tell it to me anyway. I want to know why you picked it for me.”
“Well, as much as I remember, when Theseus defeated the Minotaur, he ran off with the guy’s daughter.”
“Ariadne,” I filled in.
“Yes. But Theseus leaves her, and she’s left crying in despair. But a god finds her and falls in love. He presents her with a crown, and she threw it up into the sky when they were married.”
“I do love happy endings,” I said. “Not your typical tragedy. Is that why you thought of me?”
“I thought of you because of this.” He removed a thin blue box from his coat pocket and tried to pass it to me.
“Um…what is that?”
Tiffany blue box. Holy shit. What the hell?
“Open it and see.”
“Uh…”
“Here.”
He pried the box open, holding it out for me. Inside was a linked silver chain with a circle on one end that read Tiffany & Co. New York with a toggle on the other end that connected to the circle. And dangling from the chain was a delicate silver crown.
A crown to match the constellation I had just found in the night sky.
Natalie
26
“I can’t accept that,” I said at once.
“Yes, you can.”
“If this is part of your apology, it’s way too much.”
“I’m not apologizing, Natalie.”
Penn took it out of the box, scooped up my wrist, and attached it there. The