I slump in my seat and let my head fall back. “Oh my god.”
“What?” Magan asks, sounding genuinely worried. “Are you okay?”
“I will be.” I straighten my shoulders and lift my head to focus on them sitting across the table, wearing identical expressions of concern. I have to keep this secret for Trace.
I hate not being honest with my sisters. I think the time has come to face reality.
What did I think was going to happen with Trace and me? Clearly he doesn’t want long-term. He’s worried about how this would affect his relationship with the Candlers, who are not just his family but his employer. How could I have put him in such a position?
And now… it’s even worse than that. He’s in trouble with the Board of Elders because of me.
“I’ve made things even worse for him with the board. He could lose his powers because of me!” My insides do a slow, sickening roll. I swipe a hand across my clammy forehead.
“He won’t,” Magan soothes. “I’m sure that won’t happen.”
“After today? Maybe more so!”
Felise twists a piece of hair. Magan rubs her eyebrow. They exchange glances in the wordless communication they always do.
“I know,” I say. “I feel terrible. Worse than terrible. I don’t know what to do. I need to apologize to Trace.” I pause, my throat constricting. I need to do more than that. I need to end things with him. I know my analysis skills are not at their sharpest at this moment. Not only am I shook, I’ve had a lot of wine. “I need to go home.”
“That’s a good idea. We’ll come with you. Just let us settle up the check.” Magan pushes back her chair and takes off.
“I’ll pay for it!” I call.
She ignores me.
Felise reaches across the table and takes my hand. “We’ve got this.”
“Thank you. Sorry I’m being such a downer.”
“We shouldn’t have told you that,” Felise mutters. “Trace is going to be angry with us.”
“I should have known about it. He should have told me.”
Magan returns. “Ladies’ room,” she says.
I follow them down a short hall and into a tiny restroom. “Hold our hands,” Felise says, extending hers to me. “Hang on tight.”
I clasp their hands, and then everything goes dark. I have a sensation of floating. It’s not unpleasant… but I can’t see anything. Then I’m standing in my living room, still holding their hands.
“Whoa.” I look around. “That was cool.”
“Yeah. As always, you need to be careful though. I once ended up in Cleveland by mistake.”
One corner of my mouth lifts. “Oops.”
“Are you okay?” Magan sets her hand on my shoulders.
“I will be.”
“Do you want us to stay? We can listen. I’m a good listener.” She nods at Felise. “She’s not, but we can fix that.” In a flash, Felise’s lips have been turned into a zipper.
“Mmmph! Ummmph!” Felise scowls and waves her hands.
Magan relents and turns her lips back to normal.
“I’ll be okay,” I say. “I think I need to be alone and think things through.”
“Okay. But we can be here in a jiff.” Magan hugs me, then moves aside for Felise.
She gives me a squeeze. “Love you. Call us for anything, okay?”
I choke up again and nod.
Then I’m alone.
I kick off my heels and unzip my skirt as I walk to my bedroom. First thing to do is get out of these clothes.
I change into pajamas and climb into bed with my phone. I’ve been afraid to look at it after I saw the text from Trace.
Okay, several texts from Trace. Yes, he heard what happened today. But he doesn’t seem angry. He seems… proud. That changed to concern when I didn’t text him back. I sigh.
Hi. I’m home and fine. Super tired. Maybe a little drunk. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.
There’s a missed call from Joe, texts from Kesha and Hannah, and a meme from Felise with a picture of a witch in a pointy hat that says Some days you just have to put on the hat to remind them who they’re dealing with. A reluctant smile tugs my lips.
I drop my phone onto the bed. I’ll deal with those tomorrow.
Some of the wine has worn off, and my thinking is clearer. I pull up my analytical skills. First identify the problem.
I love Trace. And I’ve messed up his life.
Possible solutions? Get out of his life. I can’t do that entirely; we’re connected by family, which we always knew was a problem. But I can end things with us. And apologize.
But I love him.
Or… what? What other solution is there?
Okay, okay. This isn’t working. Love isn’t a project. I don’t think I can analyze my way out of this. Too many feelings of too many people are involved.
I blow out a long breath.
I could end things without telling him how I feel. We could part amicably and still see each other occasionally as part of the family. Oh, and at work now. Shit. That decision’s coming back to bite me on the ass.
I’ll be sad because I love Trace and I’ll miss him.
Sad. Sure.
So many times I’ve wondered why I’m doing this. And now… I still don’t know. I’ve messed up so much. I’ve caused problems for the people I’ve come to love. I don’t think my witch skills will ever be as good as Trace’s or even Felise’s and Magan’s. It’s depressing.
Of course I keep reliving my failures and worrying about whether I helped or hurt things when I met with the board again. Have I made a huge mistake leaving my job to work at Dream Homes? I’ll have to see Trace every day there, not to mention family dinners and holidays and weddings. The overwhelming feeling of despondency drags me down. I feel like I’m sinking into a pit of quicksand.
I’m heartbroken. I’m sad. I’ve never had feelings like this for someone before. I’m questioning every decision I’ve made over the past seven months.
I’m tired.
But even breaking things off with Trace doesn’t totally solve the problem. My poor performance as a witch reflects badly on him.
Everyone says Trace has a future as a supreme wizard and maybe an elder of the coven because of his family history and his big witch energy. I can’t risk jeopardizing that. I can’t risk his place in the Candler family or at Dream Homes.
I know what I have to do.
It’s the weekend, so I don’t have to see Trace at work. I text him and ask him to not come for tutoring because I’m not feeling well. I go to my art class at the museum. The kids distract me from my heartache, and after they’re gone, I stay for a while and paint. I end up with a new watercolor painting to frame and hang, but I’m running out of room at my condo. Maybe I need to add these to my Etsy store.
I stop for lunch on my way home, sitting in a window seat in a little café to eat my sandwich, taking my time since I don’t have to rush home to meet Trace. After that, I wander into a couple of little nearby shops. I see the cutest pair of black suede booties, and I love them. So I buy them.
They don’t make me feel any better.
At home, I drop my shopping bag and purse on a living room chair. I head into my office, where I’d normally be right now with Trace. The books sit on the coffee table, and I lower myself to the couch and run my fingers over them. Stupid dusty old books. But I kind of like them. They have a sense of history and continuity that I’ve come to appreciate.