“You should probably go,” she said quickly, not meeting his eyes.
She regretted it. Regretted him.
He knew it was a mistake. Had known it when he called the Uber to her apartment. Had known it when he stumbled up the stairs. Had known it when he pounded on her door.
He’d told himself he was coming here to chew her out. To tell her that he wasn’t the guy she thought he was. That he was worth something. That he was next in line to take over one of the most powerful covens in the world, and she should respect him for it, even though lord knew he didn’t respect himself.
But instead he’d shown up here looking like a lost puppy.
She’d taken one look at him, broken, his soul exposed, and she’d seen him for what he truly was—wretched. Worthless. A spoiled rich boy. All those words she’d thrown at him, proven true.
And he’d stood there pathetic and ripped open and she…
And she.
He wanted her. She wanted him. Neither of them would deny that the sex had been fantastic. But physical want had never been his problem.
The problem was getting anyone to want him for anything else.
Katherine couldn’t want him for anything else. Not with everything she’d said. Not with everything he’d done.
He wanted to reach for her, to beg her for some kernel of absolution. Some hint that this wasn’t just a casual hookup. But he was paralyzed by the fear that those beautiful bee-stung lips would twist up in a smirk as she told him it meant nothing. He meant nothing.
So he walked to the door.
“Silas,” Katherine started, her voice quiet. “If you need somewhere to stay tonight…”
More pity. He was drowning in it.
“I can afford a hotel, Katherine.”
And with that, he walked out the door, letting it slam shut behind him.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Katherine opened the door of Sunspot to laughter.
It was a strange thing to hear, on a day filled with dread. Byron had wasted no time filing his official complaint, and Katherine had been woken up by a terse text from Sylvia at five thirty in the morning, demanding that she be at Sunspot in three hours. She’d had to roll out of Silas’ warm embrace to run to the bathroom and throw up. She had barely been able to face him when he woke up, unable to look at him past the shame of knowing what she’d done. As soon as the door slammed shut behind him, she’d found Cheez-It and passed the time until her meeting crying into his fur.
She stepped inside to find Tess behind the bar while Fiona sat across from her, futzing with an array of candles and potion ingredients. The restaurant was open, a few witches she recognized gathered at tables, plates of food in front of them. Katherine knew the scent of the room was probably heavenly, but she couldn’t smell a thing, her nostrils too clogged from a morning of tears.
“Oh, perfect,” Tess said as Katherine approached. “Settle a debate for us—is this candle purple or pink?”
Fiona turned to Katherine, holding up the aforementioned candle. “It’s pink. Beautiful, Barbie pink.”
“It’s magenta, which Wikipedia describes as a ‘purplish red.’”
“Magic doesn’t care about Wikipedia. It cares that I feel bad vibes in your new apartment—which is what you get for moving to a ‘luxury’building, no apartment complex needs its own photography studio—and that I would like to create a spell to cleanse the dark spirits and make it a den of love and happiness.”
“And if you try to use a purple candle instead of a pink one, you’re going to make it the den of a finance bro.”
“I love when you say annoying nerdy shit.”
Fiona and Tess leaned toward each other, kissing over the old magic detritus. Katherine’s heart pulled in her chest.
They sat silently, and Katherine realized they were waiting for her to answer. She opened her mouth, but she couldn’t make the words come out.
“This is why we shouldn’t have accosted her before coffee,” Fiona said.
