Page 59 of And I Love Her

“Come on.” She opened the door and got out, pulling her jacket more closely around her. “I want to show you something.”

She walked to the front of the car and leaned her hips on the hood, still searching the sky. Jake joined her, resting his hands behind him.

“There.” She pointed. “See that cluster of stars shaped like a V? That’s the constellation of Andromeda. Her father and mother were the king and queen of Ethiopia. Her mother insulted Poseidon by saying Andromeda was more beautiful that the sea nymphs, so as punishment Poseidon sent a sea monster to devour the kingdom. The desperate king consulted the oracle of Apollo, which told him that the kingdom would be saved only if he sacrificed Andromeda. So the king chained his daughter to a cliff and left her to be eaten by the monster.”

“Huh. Not great parenting.”

Callie smiled. “There’s not much great parenting in Greek mythology. That’s actually part of what makes the stories fascinating. There’s so much conflict. And they often bring up questions about the nature of love and sacrifice, kind of likeCasablancadoes.”

“Interesting.” Jake straightened, folding his arms over his chest. “So was Andromeda sacrificed?”

“Luckily, Perseus was sailing by and saw her chained to the cliff. He fell in love with her and promised to rescue her if her parents would allow him to marry her. They agreed, so Perseus killed the monster and freed Andromeda. She married Perseus, and Athena put her image among the stars as a reward for keeping her vow.”

“Did Andromeda and Perseus live happily ever after?”

“I like to think so. They had seven sons and two daughters.” She squinted at the constellation. “I’d live happily ever after with the man who slayed a monster for me. I’d especially look forward to all those candlelit dinners.”

She glanced at him and caught him looking at her, unmistakable tenderness softening his eyes. A warm current arced between them.

“That’s a great story,” he said.

“Mythology is filled with great stories.” She tilted her head toward the sky again. “Have you ever thought of writing and directing your own screenplays?”

“I guess every actor has thought of that, at some point.”

“I’m not asking about every actor. I’m asking about you.”

He scratched the back of his neck and shrugged. “I wouldn’t know where to start.”

“At the beginning.”

His low chuckle warmed her from the inside out, and she wished more than ever that nothing would change in that moment.

“This is weird, isn’t it?” She shot him a smile and gestured between them. “Handsome popular Jake Ryan and bookworm Callie Prescott?”

His expression darkened, and he averted his gaze. “Weird, huh?”

“Not many people back in high school would have believed you and I would end uphere. I don’t imagine many of them would believe it now.”

“Because you should be with a neurologist or a scholar, right?” He leaned his head back, scanning the multitude of stars. “Not a guy who stages fist-fights in front of a green screen.”

“Oh, come on.” Regret dimmed the light around Callie’s heart. “I didn’t mean it like that. I was thinking the other way around…like you should be with Ms. Gorgeous Megastar Hollywood Actress, not academic Dr. Prescott.” She nudged his arm with her elbow. “Don’t get all offended. Just because it’s weird doesn’t mean it’s not good.”

Though Jake was still frowning, his posture relaxed a little. “You think it’s good, huh?”

“So do you.” She bumped him with her elbow again.

“Truth.” He peered at the sky. “Was that a comet?”

“There’s one.” Callie pointed toward the east as a white light flew across the darkness. “You can see the tail.”

“Why do they have tails anyway?”

“A comet is a bunch of icy matter that warms up when it gets close to the sun,” Callie explained. “The process of outgassing and the solar wind creates the little tails when it shoots across the sky. Greek philosophers named them around 500 B.C., using the Greek wordkometesmeaning ‘long-haired.’”

He glanced at her, his eyes crinkling. “You’ve got more, don’t you?”

“For a long time, comets were considered harbingers of disaster.” Callie put her hand up teasingly as he began closing the distance between them. “Plutarch recorded a comet right around the time Julius Caesar was assassinated in 44 B.C. Shakespeare mentions the same warning sign in his play about Caesar.”

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