She purses her lips. “I need you to repeat after me, Alyssa. Otherwise, this won’t work.”
I bob my head in understanding.
“Spiritus qui intra haec parietes habitant, non gratus estis,” she calls out.
I join in with the chanting as best as I can, trying to keep a straight face, because I have to admit I’m not entirely sure what I’m saying.
Nick’s dimples are on display as he bites his lower lip. He’s getting too much enjoyment out of this.
We continue to move around the room, periodically speaking in what I now recognize as Latin.
Nick’s discomfort is unmistakable, his movements awkward and stiff as he follows Matilda’s lead. He shoots me a pleading glance, silently begging me to end this bizarre ritual. But I can’t help but enjoy the absurdity of the situation, especially seeing Nick, the epitome of stoicism, being dragged into the world of spiritual cleansing.
She stops in the middle of the store, head tilted toward the ceiling, hands raised out to the sides. “Spirits who dwell within these walls, you are not welcome.” She turns to me. “It is done.”
“What? Nothing happened,” Isla says, irritation clear in her tone. “Nothing was even here. The kook has lost it.”
Nick and I breathe a collective sigh of relief that it’s over, watching as Matilda lifts a vintage tin canister up toward Nick. He drops the sage bundle like it’s a hot potato, his expression a mixture ofrelief and humor. She quickly moves to the back with the tin and sage, leaving Nick and I alone in the shop.
I can’t help but burst into laughter, the tension of the moment dissipating in the ridiculousness of it all.
Nick shakes his head, a wry smile playing on his lips as he looks at me. “Remind me never to let you drag me into anything like this again.”
I grin, feeling a sense of camaraderie between us. “I gave you an out.” I shrug one shoulder, pursing my lips.
“Alyssa,” he drawls, grinning as he moves toward me.
He pulls me into his chest, and I look up into his eyes, sighing contentedly.
“Deal. But admit it—you secretly loved every minute.”
Nick rolls his eyes, but there’s a twinkle of amusement in them. “Yeah, yeah. Let’s just hope we haven’t invited something to attach to us.”
I feign shock, lightly swatting at his chest. “Nick West, are you turning into a believer in the supernatural? Embracing the unexplainable?”
He smirks, pulling me in closer and placing a kiss on my forehead. “I believe in you.”
I melt into him, basking in his words and the warmth of his body.
His earlier words soak in.
Let’s just hope we haven’t invited something to attach to us.
Nothing out of the ordinary happened during the cleansing. But his former fiancée is here and well and truly attached. I know I need to broach that topic, for her, but I also don’t want to ruin the moment.
I step out of Nick’s embrace, glancing around the room. Isla is nowhere to be seen, but Matilda materializes, holding somethingin her hand. She seems visibly relieved, which should soothe my unease, but it doesn’t.
“In gratitude,” she says, presenting me with a Turkish bowl. It matches the set I bought earlier in the year. It’s now back with Gloria Craft.
“Thank you, Mrs. Hampson.”
“Matilda,” she corrects. “And thank you. The space feels lighter.”
“This isn’t necessary,” I say, holding up the bowl. “I’m concerned it didn’t work. Nothing happened…”
She lets out a breath. “You don’t feel that?”
I make a face, shaking my head. “Feel what exactly?”
