Page 86 of Hexed & Hazy

“I booked a backup,” Rowan says flatly. “Just in case.”

This is really a fuck up—my fuck up. All I wanted was to put together a weekend for Rowan to forget her stress, but of course, I couldn’t even figure that out without her fixing it.

And she knew I wouldn’t be able to.

I turn to her, frowning. “Are you serious?”

She lifts a shoulder. “I didn’t have to pay to reserve the spot. It was no big deal.”

She didn’t trust me. Maybe despite her avoidance, Rowan knows I’m still hexed. Why would she want to be with me? Frustration—at myself, never at her—bubbles beneath the surface.

I keep it contained, nodding rigidly. “Put the address in my phone.”

And we’re off. Again. I’m carrying bags again, this time into a basic motel with beige walls and the kind of art I could find at a thrift store. No offense to thrift store art, but it’s not exactly what I want for Rowan’s relaxing getaway.

“I wouldn’t trust any massages this place claims to give,” Rowan whispers as we drop our bags on the floor of our little motel. “I swear, it didn’t look this… quaint online.”

Quaint isn’t the word I would use. A queen-size bed. A TV so old that there are probably no apps on it. And a microwave. So much for a romantic getaway.

Rowan sounds amused rather than upset, like this isn’t a sign that we’re doomed. And maybe it’s not. Maybe I’m overthinking everything.

“Why did you reserve this place?” I ask, shaking my head. “We could have done a little better.”

“I didn’t know what your budget is.”

I wrap my arms around her waist. Even if we’re in the worst place in the world, we’re still together—and that’s enough. “And you assume I’m paying?”

She nods solemnly. “You assume I’m paying? I may be a feminist, but I still have standards.”

“You’re trouble.”

“You like it.”

“I do. I’ll pay for whatever you want.”

Her lips tug up at the corners. “I’m joking. I already paid.”

She’s ten steps ahead of me. I try not to let it fester in my stomach—the feeling that my mother is right. Rowan is too good for me. Always has been. Maybe that’s why I took so long realizing what she felt, what she wanted.

“What now?” I ask, my shoulders dropping.

“Now…” She picks up a flyer from next to the TV and waves it around. “We order bad pizza and watch terrible movies. What do you think?”

“I think we could have done that from home.”

“Maybe.” She lifts a shoulder. “But it will be better here. Just the two of us.”

Finally, I smile an actual smile. Even when everything is going wrong, the moments where we’re alone, when it’s simple… it really is like I’ve never been hexed at all.

“Sounds like the perfect plan to me. I actually…” I bend over and open my suitcase, digging through the bags. “I brought you something.”

Her eyes narrow. “Hopefully, oil so you can give me my promised massage.”

“No, but I can get some in a heartbeat. Don’t test me.” I stand up and smile sheepishly, pulling out her knitting. “I may have stolen this from your place.”

Her eyes widen, and she steps closer. “You didn’t. I didn’t even think to pack this.”

“I thought this weekend would give you plenty of time to work on it and… y’know, I know it helps you relax. It’s nothing.”