Good advice, arsehole. Top fucking notch.
If only I could follow it.
“Tea?” Violet blurts out the moment we step inside the café, first word she’s uttered since we reunited in the courtyard and wished her family goodnight. “I mean, would you like some?”
“Tea would be lovely,” I say, if only because I can’t bear the thought of this night ending.
“Let me just run upstairs and change, then I’ll come back and brew us something special.”
“Excellent. It’s another non-date.”
Her smile falters, and I want nothing more than to kick my own arse into next week. “Or a date-date,” I rush to add, but now she’s just crinkling her nose at me. “Or maybe just… tea? Yes, who needs labels, right? Evening tea, that’s what it is. Perfect. Go on ahead. I’ll… put on the kettle.”
And bludgeon myself with it repeatedly until my brain remembers how to function.
“Must you give me that look?” I say to Grumpy and Sunshine the moment the witch is out of earshot, the two of them hopping up on the counter for the express purpose of shortening the distance from which they’re judging me. “I’m a bit rusty at this. Forgive me, but you might be more supportive.”
Grumpy hisses.
Sunshine lifts a leg and licks his privates.
So much for non-relationship relationship advice fromthesetwo.
Well. I don’t need their help. I’ve got this.
I may not be a master tea brewer or an empathic witch, but I know what’s in Violet’s heart—a heart that’s full to bursting with the love she has for her chosen family. For her grandmother, Gigi. For her magic and her gifts. For the town that called to her across the years, the miles, the heartache, finally bringing her home.
I saw it in her eyes tonight as she danced with her friends. As she honored the town founder with her family in the courtyard.
As I held her in my arms, wanting nothing more than for her to make room in that heart for me.
So that’s what I’m thinking about when I tie an apron round my waist and pull out some of her teas and herbs. I don’t know if they go together—vanilla, mint, cinnamon, a pinch of rose petal, a bit of something called essence of selenite—but it feels right, so into the brew it goes.
She returns to me fifteen minutes later wearing a pair of black yoga pants and a long-sleeved shirt featuring unicorns farting out glittery rainbows.
“There you are,” I whisper.
“Here I am,” she whispers back, and for the span of several heartbeats, neither of us speaks. A hot blade twists inside me, and for a moment I worry everything has changed again. That the Violet dressed in fairy wings who lost herself to the passion between us on the dance floor isnotthe same Violet standing before me now, face scrubbed of makeup, hair twisted back into its usual messy bun, a few loose curls falling around her face, fingerprints marring one side of her glasses.
The magical fairytale costume is off, and perhaps that’s all any of this was. Another costume, another role to play.
But then she spots the freshly steeped tea on the counter, and her entire face lights up with a new smile.
Gods, that look. It’s everything.
“What’s all this?” she asks.
“I took a chance and put my tea brewing skills to the test. No guarantees on taste, but it smells quite good, as far as I know. And before you ask,no, I didn’t overdo it on the cayenne pepper. Skipped it altogether, actually.” I pour two cups from the pot, then hand one to her. “Would you like to do the honors?”
She takes the first sip. Closes her eyes. Sighs.
I wait. And wait. Hours. Eons. And then, finally…
The smile returns. The eyes open, bright and blue and happy. “Devlin. This is delicious.”
“Well, obviously.” I laugh. “Doubting Thomas. Honestly, Violet. A little trust after all this time would go a long way.”
She smiles at me again and sips her tea, and the silence descends anew.
