I sense Devlin’s energy—frenetic, but asleep—and slip past the purple couch without looking at him. I’m still not ready to see him. To deal with everything that happened between us. His confession from the other night. My ensuing freakout.
What any of it even means.
He told me he loved me, but how can I accept that? How can I allow myself to return those feelings when my failure to earn the grant—to get out of my own way and save my life’s dream, my heart’s desire—has doomed him to a mortal life in Wayward Bay? Doomed him to die?
That’s not love. That’s a death sentence.
Sniffing back tears, I turn on the kettle, find a clean teapot, and get to work. It’s either that or lose what’s left of my mind.
Put On Your Big Girl Panties and Get Over Yourself. That’s the name of today’s blend. Black tea, hawthorn berries, dried rose petals, elderflower syrup, and a dash of lavender-infused honey—a blend to help my grieving heart move on.
The kettle whistles.
My phone pings.
My heart clenches—more bad news on the way. That’s all I can think.
With one eye closed, I glance at the stupid screen. Another email.
Goddess, I don’t want to read it. But I’ve already lost the grant. Lost my last shot at saving the café. Stole Devlin from his friends and his home and the life he built, long before I came along and kidnapped him.
At this point, what else have I got to lose?
I tap the icon. Spot the committee’s email address in the sender field.
Take a trembling breath.
And read.
Dear Miss Pepperdine:
Due to an unfortunate computer error that had nothing to do with me or my staff, you were mistakenly informed that your business THE KETTLES CAULDRON did not qualify for the Keep Wayward Bay Beautiful Small Business Grant Program. The committee would like to rectify that error and inform you that THE KETTLES CAULDRON has been awarded one of this year’s coveted small business grants in the amount of $75,000 USD.
A member of my staff will be in touch later this week with further instructions on completing the appropriate tax forms and receiving the funds into your designated business bank account via electronic transfer.
Congratulations, and as always, thanks for doing your part in keeping Wayward Bay Beautiful!
Regards,
Brandt Remington III
President, Remington Capital Group
Co-Chair, Committee to Keep Wayward Bay Beautiful for Business
I read it three times to be sure.
Then I chug my tea, make another mug, chug that one too, and read it again now that I’m fully under the influence of life-affirming caffeine.
The words are still there, all in the same order, all saying the same thing.
I got it. I got the grant.
Holy hell, I got thefreakinggrant!
“Devlin!” I race out to the fireplace, heart galloping in my chest, my smile so wide my cheeks hurt. I don’t even care that he’s still sleeping or that I’ve just terrified my poor kitties that I look like a crazy person who just got kicked off the crazy train for being too crazy. “Devlin, get up! Getup!”
“Hmm?” He blinks at me. Smiles. Yawns. Closes his eyes and goes right back to dreamland. Three seconds later, he bolts upright and stares, taking in the full sight of me. Wild hair. Backward shirt. Bouncing on my toes. Laughing.
