“Ha.”
I survey the choices. I have a sweet tooth, which is why I run or work out five days a week. I’d happily devour everything here—cookies, cake, pie. Holy shit, there are macarons and little tarts with fruit on them and lemon squares and… “I’m in heaven.”
I load up a too-small plate with selections. Luckily everything is tiny. Meanwhile, Cassie has gone out to call everyone else to come for dessert.
I skip the coffee and tea at the end of the island, electing for another beer from the fridge. Maybe I should invade Joe’s bar in the den and slam back a couple of shots of bourbon.
Romy walks into the kitchen as I’m about to exit, and our eyes meet again. Heat zaps through me like an electric shock. Shit.
She gives me a half smile.
I gesture to the desserts. “Have at it. There’s lots to choose from.”
“Wow. I see that.” Her gaze falls on my plate. “Think you have enough?”
I scrunch up my face. “I sort of have a sweet tooth.”
“Ah. Me too.” She grimaces. “But I’m not that hungry. Dinner was amazing and…” She stops.
I see the slight tightness at the corners of her eyes and mouth, and a ball of warmth forms in my chest. “Grab a cookie and come with me.”
She blinks. “Um. Okay.”
She picks up a plate and takes a cookie and then a macaron, and I lead her out of the kitchen. Nobody pays any attention to us as we walk down the hall and into the den.
It’s quiet here.
Romy plops down onto a couch and blows out a breath. I take a seat at the other end of it and set my beer on the coffee table.
“How did you know I was about to lose it?” she asks.
“Just a feeling I had. It’s fine. This family is overwhelming for anyone, let alone a newly found relative.”
“Everyone seems so nice. But yeah… it’s a lot.” She takes a small bite of the cookie.
“Don’t worry. You’ll get to know everyone and feel more at ease.”
“I don’t know.” She eyes me. “Is that how it was for you?”
“Yeah. Although I made it harder on myself because I was a snotty teenager at the time and all bent out of shape about what happened to my family.”
Her eyes soften. “Yeah. But you’re lucky to have had this.” She waves a hand.
“Oh, I know that now.” I pause, but the words escape my lips. “I’m glad you’re here.” I know how freaked out she was the other night. I don’t know if what I said had anything to do with her decision to come back and get to know the family, her willingness to learn, and I’m annoyed about the whole tutoring thing, but for the Candlers’ sake, I’m happy. And for hers, because this is her family and even though she might think they’re a little bonkers, they are good people.
“Are you?” She meets my eyes. Apparently she’s sensed my displeasure.
I look away briefly.
Then she wrinkles her nose. “I’m not sure what I’m doing. But I’m here. I should go back out there.” She stands and smooths down the skirt of her flowery dress. “I can’t hide in here all night.”
She’s brave.
I follow her out. We stop in the kitchen for another drink for her, then I take her outside onto the deck and start introducing her to family. Her smile glows, and she easily makes small talk, complimenting Aunt Peta’s necklace and asking little Ruby what her doll’s name is. I notice she glances at me frequently as if she’s afraid I’m going to desert her.
Fuck. I want to… but I can’t. So I stick close, helping to ease the introductions and conversations.
Soon people start leaving. I think Cassie has given the signal, and eventually everyone has said lengthy goodbyes while having containers of leftover brownies and tarts pressed upon them.
“I should go too,” Romy says.
“When should we start your lessons?” I ask. “How’s this weekend?”
“Saturday mornings I teach art classes at Fullerton Gallery.”
“It would be so much easier if you lived here,” Cassie says. “Trace is here all the time anyway.”
“I can’t move in here,” Romy says with a gentle smile. “But thank you.”
“Why not? We have lots of room.”
“I’m twenty-seven years old. I need to live on my own. I have my condo.”
“I want to see where you live,” Felise announces. “When can we come over?”
“Anytime.”
Before I leave the Candlers’ home that evening, Romy has Felise and Magan going to visit her tomorrow night and me coming to start tutoring on Saturday. They all exchange phone numbers and email addresses. She gives Felise and Magan her address.
“You better give it to Trace too,” Magan says.
“Oh, I—” My eyes meet Romy’s. “Right,” I say casually. “I’ll text you.”
She bites her lip and nods.
ROMY
“I like your place,” Felise says as she and Magan walk into my condo. Her head is swiveling as she takes everything in. “It has character.”
“Thanks. I like it.”
“High ceilings. Nice woodwork. Great floors. That fireplace is gorgeous.”
“Oh right, I forget you come from a construction family.”
Felise grins. “I’ve learned a few things.” She tilts her head. “It’s just… a lot of gray.”
I blink. The walls are gray, yes. My furniture is gray. The bathrooms are both gray and white. “Gray goes with anything.”
I show them my two bedrooms, the small one that I use as an office and the bigger principal bedroom with its own bathroom.
“Oh, a deck!” Magan heads to the sliding doors.
Felise follows. She fingers the fabric of my drapes as she steps outside. “Gray curtains,” she murmurs.
I frown. “They were there when I bought this place.”
They check out my outdoor furniture—yes, the cushions are charcoal—and the view of the treetops from the third floor.
“This is amazing!” Felise holds on to the railing and looks out. “Maybe we should get our own place, Magan.”
“We totally should. I’ve been telling you that for years.”
“How much did this cost you?” Felise asks.
When I tell her, she blanches. “Okay, that’s why we don’t have our own place. We barely make a profit at the store.”
“Well, maybe your new website will help.”
The Candlers are obviously well off. Their house is a mansion with expensive finishes, the yard as big as a park. They all wear stylish and clearly expensive clothes. I don’t know if they make a lot of money in the construction business or if Felise and Magan support themselves from their shop or if they all just conjure up money.
Oh wait… you can’t conjure money. My first witch lesson.
“Would you like a glass of wine?” I ask. “We can sit out here. It’s a nice evening.”
“Perfect!”
I go pour glasses of rosé and arrange a plate of cheeses and crackers I picked up on my way home from work, then carry them outside.