Page 12 of Love Letters from a Libra
Jules:
I figured a Libra like you would rather touch pretty things than sit in a loud coffee shop. There’s a botanical garden with a greenhouse cafe on Milton. Tomorrow at two?
My eyebrow shot up. He was right. I would prefer to do something different.
Me:
That actually sounds perfect. I’ll meet you there.
Jules:
Wear comfortable shoes.
I tossed my phone aside, realizing it was almost midnight. I moved toward my closet, wondering what exactly one wore to a botanical garden with a man who seemed to know me better than he should have.
I pulled out outfit after outfit, creating a pile on my bed. Too casual. Too fancy. Ugh. I finally settled on high-waisted jeans that made my ass look like it had its own zip code, a cute green top, and matching sandals. I would keep my jewelry simple, with small hoops and a delicate gold necklace. I laid everything in my reading chair, like I’d done in high school before important days.
I headed to the bathroom, where I applied coconut oil to my curls. “It’s not a big deal. We’re just going to look at plants.”
My reflection looked unconvinced.
Before crawling into bed, I texted Toni.
Me:
Having a non-date with the cafe guy tomorrow. Botanical gardens. Send good vibes.
Her response was immediate:
Toni:
Girl, if he’s taking you to see plants instead of drinking booze, he’s either husband material or a serial killer. No in-between. Details after.
I smiled and placed my phone on the charger.
The Wild Root Nursery was the kind of place I’d post on my Facepage with some caption about grounding your energy. Jules approached me with his locs pulled back. I adjusted my top as he hugged me. He smelled amazing.
“Hi, beautiful.”
“Hi. This is my kind of spot. You nailed it.”
“I thought you would like it.”
We weaved through rows of flowering shrubs and potted herbs. The floor was still damp from recent watering. The nursery wasn’t crowded—a mother with her toddler and a few older couples.
Conversation flowed as we discussed the podcast and the plants surrounding us. We turned into a corner filled withtropical plants when Jules stopped suddenly. He reached toward a medium-sized plant.
“This looks like a plant you might like,” he mentioned, lifting the terra cotta pot.
I stared at the prayer plant in his hands
“Do you like it?” he asked.
The plant’s leaves were deep green with red veining. I reached for the plant, and my fingers brushed against his as I took the pot. I examined the leaves. “It’s perfect. You will never believe I assigned the prayer plant to my Libra sign because of how the leaves rise and fall daily, constantly seeking balance.
Jules shrugged. “You strike me as someone who appreciates things that change in cycles. Seasons, day or night. Planetary movements.”
“You never told me how you got into astrology,” Jules asked.
