“Sure. Sounds easy.”
“I’m not saying that. Sometimes being honest is fucking hard. But it’s worth it.”
“You’re such a wise old man.”
“Ha ha. You’re supposed to be the wise one. You’re the one with hot powers. Except when it comes to yourself.”
What the fuck does that mean? “I’m done with this conversation.” I finish my beer. “Come on, Cheddar. Let’s go home.”
I left my truck here yesterday, too, parked on the street, so I get Cheddar’s bag with her food and water bowls, toys and assorted other necessities, clip her leash on her, and head out.
17
Romy
I had a shit day at work.
We’re getting pressure from the project sponsor to add a bunch of things that aren’t part of the plan. A bunch of time-consuming, expensive things. It will impact our timeline and budget, and I had a heated discussion with my boss Tom today about how to handle it. I don’t think we should agree to the changes. Scope creep can kill you. Unfortunately, he wants to keep them happy, and apparently even the vice president of that division is on board, so Tom is leaning that way.
After I already told them no.
I wish he’d support me. He’s a nice guy, but too often he tries to make everyone happy instead of doing the right thing. Today I feel like I’ve been thrown under a bus. I tried to stand firm, but I’m not being backed up. Goddammit, it’s frustrating.
As I walk home from the L station, I hear a crying noise. It almost sounds like a child or a baby, and I frown and stop to listen more closely. It’s coming from above me, and I take a few slow steps, peering up into the big maple tree branches above me. Maybe a bird?
I squint and look higher. Oh! There… a cat. A black-and-white cat sits high in the tree, making that pitiful noise.
“Are you stuck?” I tip my head back and bite my lip. “Poor baby. Why did you go up so high?”
Another sad yowl reaches my ears.
I look around, but I’m alone on the block. Do I call the fire department? Somehow I don’t think they’ll see this as a priority. I can’t climb this tree—the lowest branches are too high for me to reach, and that would be stupid anyway.
And then I know. I can fix this. With magic.
At least I hope I can. My spell attempts have been going a little better lately. I think about what I want to do, remembering what I’ve been taught. Then I extend my arm and point my index finger at the cat.
He lands lightly on his feet at the base of the tree.
I thrust my arms in the air. “I did it!”
The cat eyes me, gives me a swish of his tail, and slinks away.
“You’re welcome,” I murmur, continuing on my way home, feeling lighter and happier. Damn, it feels good to use my magic to help someone! Or something. I like this.
Is this what I’m supposed to use magic for? Maybe I could use my powers to make Tom do what I want him to do. I still have so many questions about what the purpose of our powers is. I need to talk more to Trace about this.
Trace, whom I’m having dinner with tonight. After all the time we’ve spent together, alone and with family, this is something new. A date. Aaaaah!
He told me we’re going to the Grove on North Halsted. I haven’t been there, but it has a reputation for good food and not super pricey. At home, I wash up and change into skinny jeans that hit just above my ankle, a tiered blue camisole top, and heels. I’ve been messing around with my hair lately. In my Pinterest explorations I’ve discovered tutorials for all kinds of styles, and I’ve learned how to flip the ends up and use a texturizer to make it look messy but stylish. At least I hope it looks stylish and not like a bad perm from the 1980s.
Trace picks me up, and my nerves settle as he takes me in his arms and kisses me. The feel of his mouth on mine in deep, lush kisses scatters every worry from my mind, and I melt against him. He draws back, lips quirked. “Hi.”
“Hi.”
God, I missed him so much the past few days.
“You look pretty.”
“Thanks.” I love the admiring heat in his eyes as they move over me.
We head out. It’s a short drive to the restaurant. On the way, I tell him proudly, “I saved a cat today.”
“Yeah? How’d you do that?”
“He was stuck in a tree. I used a spell to get him down.”
He grins and flashes me a look of genuine admiration. “Good for you.”
My heart gives a joyful bump. “And I didn’t turn the cat into a cheetah. That would have been a problem.”
He chuckles. “Yeah, no kidding.”
Trace finds a parking spot on the street about a block past the restaurant. We stroll the sidewalk in the warm summer evening, chatting, then enter the restaurant. Since it’s a nice night, we choose to sit on the patio, and the hostess leads us through the restaurant to big, wide-open doors. The patio’s a courtyard, with brick walls, lots of plants, and party lights strung above us.
We sit next to a wall and order drinks, then study the menu. Everything is very fresh, and they even list the local farms they buy from. “Hard to decide,” I murmur.
“Everything is good.”
“Okay. I think I might have a pizza. The one with prosciutto and egg sounds good.”
Trace ends up ordering the roasted half chicken.
When that’s taken care of, our eyes meet across the table. I smile. “How are you? I mean… are you still okay with…” I wave a hand between us. “This?”
He looks so handsome, also in jeans and a blue-and-white-striped button-down shirt with the cuffs rolled back. He rubs a hand over his stubbled chin. “Yeah.”
I know he said it’s not me, but it’s hard not to feel slighted at his hesitancy. The last thing I want is for him to be unhappy. But he said… he can’t get enough of me. Can’t stop thinking about me. I’ve replayed that over and over in my head. No one’s ever said anything like that to me.
I drop my gaze to my wheat ale garnished with a slice of orange.
Trace reaches across the table and curls his fingers around my hand. “I’m sorry. This is me fucking things up. Like I told you.”
“Remember the night we met?”
“Oh yeah.”
“That was fun.”
“It was.”
“Can we just do that?”
He holds my gaze steadily, his eyes warm. “Yeah. Let’s do that.” One corner of his mouth hooks up. “No turtle races here though.”
I smile. “No. Maybe we’ll have to swing by the Singing Horse.”
“No. I know where we can go after dinner.”
“Where?”
“It’s a surprise.”
“Is it a haunted house?”
His grin is so damn gorgeous it takes my breath away. “Maybe.”
I give him side-eye. “Hmm. Okay.” I decide to change the topic. “So did you do much screwing or nailing today?”
His eyes gleam. “None.”
“That’s too bad.”
“Tell me about it,” he mutters.
“Maybe later,” I suggest in a flirty tone.