She curled her fingers tighter around the blanket, her gaze falling to her bare feet. The question hung there, thick in the cold air between us.
A rhetorical question.
Then it hit me.The key.
So stupid. She’d rather face down her greatest fear than spend another day married to me.
“Wait here,” I said, stalking past her into the hall before I said something I’d regret.
Her door stood half open, the sheets tangled in a heap where she’d bolted out of bed. I didn’t “investigate” like she would've called it. I didn’t want to know what her shampoo smelled like up close, or the exact lotion that made her skin so soft. I just grabbed a handful of things, tossed them into her bag, and carried it backinto the hall.
“The coast is clear,” I said, handing it over. “No spirit yeti in sight. I’ll be in the kitchen.”
When Valerie joined me downstairs, I’d already started the coffee and cracked a few eggs into a pan, moving the spatula in small, mechanical circles. The scent of butter and grilled bread filled the air, cutting through the inn’s chill.
She hovered in the doorway, blanket gone, hair pulled into a messy knot that made my hands twitch with the urge to pull it loose.
“Thanks for… the ghost check.” She scuffed her slipper against the floor, watching me cook. “Can I… um… pay my debt by pouring you a cup of coffee?”
“Black, two sugars,” I said, keeping my focus on the pan.
She crossed the room, snagged two mugs from the rack, and started pouring. Sugar in mine. Cream in hers. Like we'd done this before. Like it was normal.
A pop of grease hit my knuckles, and I barely flinched. Maybe I needed the sting. When was the last time I shared breakfast with anyone, let alone twice in one week? Growing up, my parents had never cooked. If it wasn’t catered, it was cold cereal or a microwave dinner. That was probably why I learned early.Wow them with eggs Florentine and a beef Wellington, and they’ll keep coming back.It was a gimmick, and now it felt domestic. Like an act of service and not just an act.
I shifted the pan off the burner, jaw tight.Temporary, I reminded myself.This is temporary.
“Pass me the salt?” I asked, nodding toward the counter.
She reached for it, then froze. “Uh, Grant?”
I followed her gaze. There, between the tea tin and the salt shaker, sat an envelope sealed with red-and-gold wax, the logo unmistakable.
Sacred Spell Couples Resort.
Great. This inn had two ghosts now—and both were out for blood.
I wiped my hands on a towel. “You’ve got to be kidding me. How did they find us here? I shredded all the others.”
Valerie’s jaw dropped. “Wait.Others?This isn’t the first letter? How many have you gotten?”
I picked it up and glared at the return address. “About one a week. Then there are the emails.” I flipped the envelope. “Though none of them have ever been stampedUrgentbefore.”
Valerie snatched it from my hand and broke the seal, pulling out the card. Fancy gold script curled across the page.
“What does it say?” I asked—then leaned in before she could answer, close enough to catch the scent of vanilla on her skin as I read over her shoulder.
COUPLES ALIGNMENT EXERCISE
Pursuant to the Petals and Hearts-in-Harmony add-on, Section 12, Subclause (iii), you are hereby required to complete two couples alignment exercises in accordance with your marriage contract. Failure to complete these tasks before Christmas Eve will result in an automatic two-year extension of themarital contract.
Exercise #1:Each partner must procure and exchange one thoughtful early holiday gift. Total value must not exceed twenty dollars.
The final exercise will follow upon completion.
Valerie blinked at the card as if it might grow wings and fly around the kitchen. “This is nuts. We have couples homework. It’s like the resort knows we’re trying to loophole our way out.”
“It’s twenty dollars,” I said. “You were planning on going into town anyway to dig through those old newspapers.”
