Page 90 of Meet Cute Magic

“Goddammit, Phillip, you couldn’t have waited two goddamn minutes?”

“Was it not completed?” he asks, confused, looking down his body as if seeking some change.

“No, it was,” Rosie says. “But I wanted to kiss your grandson one more time before the curse would be broken and my memories changed…” Her words trail off at the end with a hint of confusion, as if she’s fumbling over the same revelation I am: the curse was set to break as soon as my grandfather got the potion, but our memories are still fine. “Oh no.” Her eyes are wide and panicked. “Did it not work?”

“Did what work?” I ask, confused on too many fronts. There’s so much going on, and if I’m being honest, I’ve barely slept in a week.

“He’s still here, and he drank the potion. He hasn’t crossed over. Did it not work?” I glance around Rosie’s small kitchen as if I expect some portal to pop up for my grandfather to walk through.

It never comes.

Instead, my grandfather starts laughing.

“You’re not going to forget anything, Rosemary. Calm it down.” Rosie’s jaw tightens at the brush-off, rightfully so. My own irritation is brewing the longer my grandfather draws out giving us an explanation. “Your memories will remain intact. Why would you think your memory was going to be wiped?” I look from my grandfather to Rosie, whose jaw has dropped, a dumbfounded look on her face.

“What do you mean?” she says, looking as if she would strangle the figure before her if she could. “You’re the one who told me that when my family curse was broken, all previous relationships and heartbreaks would be forgotten.”

“I meant it metaphorically. How was I supposed to know you would take it literally? And I believe what I said was that when you completed the potion, you wouldn’t feel the pain of your past heartbreaks.” A knowing smile crosses his face, and I think I start to understand before Rosie does. As I do, I become increasingly grateful that he’s already dead: dating Rosie from prison after she was convicted of manslaughter would really put a damper on the whole happily ever after thing. “Do you? Feel the pain of past heartbreaks?” Rosie stares at him, blinking as she seems to take in his words.

“Well… no?” It’s more of a question than an answer, but that seems to be what he needs to hear. He nods and then heads toward a box on the kitchen counter I recognize to be from Vi’s bakery. Both of our gazes follow him, our bodies shifting to watch the spectacle before us.

“Exactly. Now let’s see if the potion worked,” he says, rubbing his hands together with glee before reaching for the box.

And opening it. I stare with wide eyes as the ghost before us reaches in and grabs a double chocolate muffin, then takes a large bite.

“What the fuck?” Rosie shouts, eyes wide and panicked. “You couldn’t do that before, could you?” My grandfather chews with the most content look on his face and flies into the air, looping happily.

“It worked!” Rosie continues to stare at him with wide eyes before her jaw goes tight. She understands something I clearly do not, but the angry look on her face tells me that there is something I’m missing.

To be honest, I think I’m missing a lot.

“Phillip. Explain right now, or I’m breaking out five white candles and a salt circle and sending your ass back to whatever hellscape you came from,” she says through gritted teeth. My grandfather looks at her and rolls his eyes at her threats, but explains anyway.

“The potion you brewed wasn’t to help me pass on. It was to make it so I could taste food again.” Rosie’s jaw drops. “And my god, your sister is a great baker,” he says, taking another bite. That’s when I decide I should step in.

“Grandpa, I think you really need to explain. Quickly.” He finishes his bite, floats to the fridge, opens it, grabs a container of milk, and sets it on the counter. Rosie and I watch as he reaches for a glass, presumably to pour one for himself. Rosie’s grip on my hand tightens nearly painfully, like she’s about to lose her mind. “Grandpa.”

“Okay, okay. God, kids these days really have no patience.”

“Are you fucking—” Rosie starts, but stops when he starts to explain.

“It was really perfect, you know? You summoned me, and a minute into it, I realized who you were. I remember the last couple years of my life, coming to see Jack’s shop and there was a woman across the street who owned a bookstore. He would complain about her, but I saw it for what it was: he was into her.” Something in my gut tightens and my breathing goes shallow. My grandfather is completely immune to the volatile emotions in the room, taking a sip of his milk and smiling wide at the glass like he’s in awe. “Anyway, you told me you needed help, and I needed some help myself if I wanted to actually enjoy my afterlife, so I made a deal with you, knowing you’d have to go talk to Jack to get the flask. I knew he wouldn’t just give it to you: my Jacky was always stubborn, so you’d be stuck actually spending time together instead of just arguing.” Slowly, the full picture comes to light, and I don’t know how to feel about it.

“Jack was always looking at you with wide eyes. Honestly, you two worked faster than I thought. I figured you’d fall after you thought the curse was broken, and I could just continue on telling you you both worked together to break it. A love story for the ages.”

“So you didn’t break the curse?” Rosie says, with a hint of panic and more than a hint of disappointment in her words. My grandfather gives her a soft, genuine smile. One I’d only seen a handful of times when he was really alive. He sets down the cup of milk, glancing at it longingly for a moment before moving toward us. He tries to put a hand on Rosie, but it seems that whatever happened to him only applies to food as his hand moves right through her.

“You broke the curse yourself, Rosie.”

“What?” Rosie says, body going still.

“Okay, well, it wasn’t a curse, not really.” I close my eyes, with the confirmation of my assumptions. “It was a self-erected wall, stopping you from giving yourself to whoever you dated, mostly because from what I’ve learned, you only dated assholes who weren’t good enough for you. But you broke that wall down, with the help of my grandson.” The room goes silent as I stare at my grandfather then Rosie. Her face is a mask of confusion and outrage before she opens her mouth.

“You said you would break the curse and when you did, I wouldn’t carry the feelings from previous relationships,” she says low.

“No, I said your previous heartbreaks wouldn’t matter once the curse was gone. And I was right,” he says cheerfully. “Now look at you! You’re in love. Even the hurt of Jack betraying you is gone because it didn’t matter, not really. You know he did it with good intentions, and he manned up, trying to fix it. It doesn’t matter because you’re in love, and if it’s true enough, it’s enough to overcome a lot.”

“Are you out of your goddamned mind?” Rosie finally snaps, pulling her hand out of mine and taking a step toward my grandfather. I’d step between them if I thought he was in any real danger, but fortunately—or unfortunately, depending on who you’re asking—he’s a ghost. “There was no curse? I did this for nothing?”