Alisha stands with her hands placed firmly on her hips and nods begrudgingly.
We begin our journey up the path toward the Griffith Observatory, home to space and science exhibits and telescopes that transport visitors to the cosmos. Used as the backdrop for many Hollywood movies, Griffith Observatory is a white concrete structure topped with penny-colored domes resting on the slope of Mount Hollywood in Griffith Park. In the morning light, the cobalt blues and dusty purples of the park glow.
“I don’t know how you got me to do this. Thank god for gel undereye patches. You’ve got to try this new brand I found. My eyebags look nonexistent, right?” she says.
All week, she’s tried to distract me from thinking about Bennett. Her energy is usually contagious, but as of late, it hasn’t quite caught on.
“Like it was fifty percent off at Chanel. Not a bag in sight,” I deadpan.
Alisha laughs. “Oh, sweetie. As if Chanel would ever have a sale.” She stares up at the mountain with a look of dread. “You promise the view at the top will be Instagram-worthy?”
“It’s worth the burn,” I assure her.
We follow the zigzags of the well-worn path, nodding to fellow early birds getting their heart rates up. Alisha breathes heavily and stays a few steps behind me. We take a few breaks around every other bend so her heart doesn’t “pop.”
I’m quiet for the first half up the mountain, trying to sweat out any remaining tears still inside of me. It’s for the best, I repeat to myself. There’s a Bennett-sized hole that can’t be patched up. I’m walking at a snail’s pace, trying to work through my thoughts while stepping one foot in front of the other.
“Liv,” Alisha starts, “we can head back down if you’re not up to this.”
“I can do this,” I say, pushing through the hurt. “I know I’m no fun to be around right now.”
We pass a girl using her phone. On her screen is a monkey icon. “Give me a break!” I shout. “We’re on a mountain. This is a ZodiaCupid-free zone.”
The girl glances up and shoots me a dirty look.
I stand on my toes to get a better look at her screen. “You’re a beta tester, though? On a scale of Strongly Dislike to Absolutely Despise, how much do you hate the app so far?”
Alisha grabs my arm and pulls me away from the hiker. “Sorry! Have a lovely day!” she calls out to the girl, who’s already started jogging away from us.
“You’re scaring innocent hikers,” Alisha says, tugging me along.
“If they’re using ZodiaCupid, they’re not so innocent,” I mumble.
We find a spot on a bench just below the Observatory, overlooking the city, and sit for a water break. I stretch my legs out in front of me, recalling out of nowhere that this is where Bennett has his Shoot for the Stars volunteering every week.
A more serious look settles on Alisha’s face. “You know I love you. And I love Lunar Love,” she says. Then in a more playful tone, she adds, “But damn, you are stubborn.”
A laugh escapes me.
“Joining your family’s business was the best thing I’ve ever done. Helping people find love is truly a dream job,” she adds.
I nod. “You’ve made Lunar Love better.”
“Thank you. We always talk about how people are complex and that their signs aren’t the only thing that makes them who they are,” she says. “Right?”
“It’s true,” I agree. “Humans are more complicated.”
“I’ve never seen you be so die-hard about compatibility until your last breakup. And I don’t only mean the one with your ex-boyfriend.”
“And the one time I dated someone incompatible, well, we know what happened,” I say defensively. “Since I was a kid, I’ve been learning about and promoting compatibility.”
“But not like this.” Alisha tugs at her leggings. “I know you’re the matchmaker who can’t be matched, but what if you’re the only one who believes that?”
I draw circles in the dirt with the tip of my shoe and stay quiet.
“What happened is in the past, but it’s very much affecting your present and future,” Alisha says. “It seems to me you’re clinging to the idea of compatibility because you’re scared. You’re scared that you’ll lose someone you love again, and that by not honoring the traditional way of matchmaking, you’ll also lose Lunar Love.”
“I’ve lost love before,” I say, “but I don’t think I could bear losing Lunar Love.”
“No one doubted your ability to matchmake after what happened with your ex and friend. So what if you dated an animal sign that didn’t pair well with yours? You could’ve had the same result even if he were compatible.”
“But when I doubted my beliefs, that happened. It’s better to not question them anymore,” I say. I distanced myself to avoid feeling the way I feel right now. So if I still feel like this, what was it all for?
“So you want to stay on the safe path,” Alisha says, air quoting safe. “You’re not someone who sits back idly while others take risks. You go after what you want. You always have. Just as you’d do everything you could to save Lunar Love, why wouldn’t you do everything you could to be happy?”
Her words cut to the core. I’ll risk everything I have for Lunar Love, for clients, for family, but not for myself.
Alisha smiles. “Remember the woman who came in because her parents sent her to us when they discovered that the guy on her screensaver was Henry Golding, and her engagement ring was actually costume jewelry? You worked day and night, went around town on Singles Scoutings, and thought through different trait matchups to find her someone to bring home for Lunar New Year. You wanted their relationship to be more than that, though.”
For the first time all week, I feel my cheeks widen in a smile. “She had to want to find love for the right reasons. I still remember her face when I told her we weren’t a rent-a-boyfriend agency.”
“Exactly.” Alisha nods, her high ponytail swinging from side to side. “You worked with her, coached her, taught her. And she eventually came around to wanting love for herself, not for her family’s sake.”
I nod. “You’re right.”
“You work hard to put love out into the world. And your method works.” She pulls her phone from her waist pack and taps into Twitter. “Look, two of your clients posted using the #LoveInTheMoonlight hashtag.”
Two smiling faces shine back at me, along with a few nice words about us. A surge of promise jolts through my veins. What was once an idea is now a living concept out in the world. Two strangers were brought together because of Lunar Love.
“But your method is also not the law,” she continues. “I can’t tell you what to do. No one can. Maybe think of yourself as your own client. Maybe you’d be telling her something different than what you’re telling yourself.”