Page 95 of Meet Cute Magic

“That’s me,” Phillip says with a gleeful smile. I glare at him.

“Your grandfather?” our mother asks, aghast.

“A warlock who died a year ago who loves to meddle,” Jack explains. “He saw an opportunity and ran with it.”

Before we get too far off topic, I rush to tell her the rest of the story: needing the flask, bumping into Jack (breaking and entering, as Jack corrects, though my mother smiles wider when she hears that detail), enlisting his help with collecting the ingredients, the kiss bond… all of it, knowing that if I left anything out, Poppy would absolutely be conned into telling her.

“Hold on. A vessel held by the ghost, three a.m. moonflowers, tears of a vampire, hair of a powerful man…” A smile spreads on her lips. “He didn’t want to pass on, did he?”

“No, ma’am,” Jack says, and this whole ma’am business is absolutely winning her over. “He wanted to taste solid foods again.”

“Sounds like my kind of man,” she says with a wide smile.

I also realize in that moment I need to do everything in my power to keep the two meddling beings as far away from each other as humanly possible. It would be a power dynamic that would result in world domination, or, at the very least, all of us being completely miserable. Forever.

She crosses her arms over her chest, assessing.

“Let me guess: you two fell in love while on this mission.” A blush burns on my cheeks. “So you thought you were cursed to never find love?” she then asks with a soft face. “A cruel curse for a witch meant to help others find their soulmates.” I shrug, though I’m not sure how long it will take for that deep bruise to heal fully. “You should know by now magic would never be that cruel. How did you actually believe it?” she asks, confused, and I sigh.

“I don’t know. It was a sore subject, and I guess I was just desperate for an explanation.” Since finding out the truth, I’ve noticed half a dozen small signs that I wasn’t cursed, that it was just the natural order of things. Things I ignored and excused as the curse doing its thing, but really, it was just men who weren’t right for me. Mostly because they weren’t Jack. “Plus, you never dated when we were younger, and Dad…” I had always assumed my dad’s sudden death when we were young was part of the curse, a repayment for her getting to have the love of her life, if only for a handful of years. My mom’s eyes water just a bit before she reaches across the circle for my hand. Unlike when Phillip touched me that first night, it’s not cold. Instead, it’s warm, the touch feeling just like it did when she was alive. I wonder if it’s because we have the same magic or the same blood, or if it’s just because she’s my mom. Either way, I don’t complain.

“Your dad and I weren’t cursed, Rosie. It was a tragedy. And we were very much in love, and I mourned him until the day I was reunited with him in the afterlife.” My heart pounds, wondering just how mad she would be if we summoned them together next time. Vi squeezes my hand, and I turn to her, giving her a small smile as we’re on the same page. “You know, magic like yours couldn’t come from anyone else, after all.”

My brow furrows. “What do you mean?”

“Love magic is rare, Rosie. It’s not some talent that any old witch born to any old parents can possess. It has to be someone born from a perfect match, like your dad and me. That’s also why you, the eldest daughter, have the power you do. It’s a blessing and a curse, as you know, since your magic would never let you fully settle in with anyone who wasn’t your perfect match.” I look to Jack and give him a soft smile. “It also means you care deeply for everyone in your life and never want them to suffer, even if that’s at your own expense.” She gives me a long, knowing look. “Isn’t that right, Miss Refuses-to-ask-for-help-and-does-everything-for-everyone?”

I open my mouth, but Jack speaks instead.

“I’m working on that,” he says low. Mom perks up, head tipping and taking in Jack with a new light. “Working on getting her to accept help more often.”

“Well, well, well, looks like the magic really did get things right, didn’t it?” Jack and Mom share a conspiratorial smile that makes me roll my eyes before her attention comes back to me. “You were never cursed, Rosie. You were just waiting for your perfect match to come along.” Her attention shifts back to Jack. “Now, tell me all about yourself, Jack Haggerty. You run a business?” And to further prove that the universe picked well, he steps out of his own salt circle with a smile, then into ours, lifting me and settling me into his lap. Then he tells her everything there is to know about him and his family, and he answers even her almost-too-personal questions.

That’s when I know for sure that Jack Haggerty is meant to be mine.

EPILOGUE

Jack

Six Weeks Later

“It’s freezing!” Rosie says with a giggle as we wait in line to load onto the hayride. It’s December, and an early snow fell a few days ago, making the entire farm look magical. It’s six weeks after Halloween, and even though we’ve both been ridiculously busy with the holidays approaching and the holiday rush at both of our stores, we’ve made sure that every Monday night is our date night. We spent the entire day together since both of our stores were closed. We started at Rosie’s, and I helped her clean while she restocked, took inventory, and reordered anything she was running low on before we went to my place and repeated the process. Normally, we try and stay up late two nights a week to do it so we have a full day off together, but it’s been so busy for both of us, we haven’t managed it. Since things are going well at the shop, though, I’m seriously contemplating finally hiring someone a couple of days a week to manage the store, and I know Rosie is too.

Now that I have someone in my life who matters to me, I find I don’t feel as desperate to control every single moment. I’d rather be with Rosie whenever possible. But now, we’re at the farm I saw a sign for back when we went to dinner with Rosie’s sisters, waiting to board the holiday hayride. I smile down at her, pulling her in against my chest, then tucking my jacket around both of us.

“I’ve got you,” I say, tucking her into my arms to share my warmth. Even though I did convince her to wear a jacket this time around, considering it’s December, she’s still not as bundled as I would have preferred for her comfort, wearing a pair of thick tights and a skirt. “It’s date night, Jack,” she had told me when I informed her it would be freezing tonight. “I have to look cute.” I didn’t bother arguing, as I’ve found it is of no use when it comes to Rosie and wearing what she deems to be cute outfits, so I threw a couple of extra hand warmers into my pockets and came to terms with the fact that at some point, I’d be giving her my jacket. She looks around conspiratorially before turning in my arms and digging something out of her pockets.

“Here,” she whispers, holding out what looks like a truffle. I raise an eyebrow at her. “One of Vi’s Warm You Up cinnamon chocolate truffles. It’ll keep us warm.” I smile wide then open my mouth for her to give me the chocolate, letting it melt on my tongue. Instantly, Vi’s magic floods my veins. It feels different than Rosie’s, a bit harsher, less patient, much like the woman herself, but with it comes warmth, soaring quickly to my fingers and toes. The feeling returns in my nose, and I smile down at Rosie as she chews her own truffle, a flush coming to her cheeks.

“Next!” a voice calls, and glancing over Rosie’s head, I see that the line before us has vanished, and an impatient-looking employee in a Santa hat is waving us onto the hayride that is twined with white fairy lights. Letting my girl go, I take her hand into mine and step onto the trailer with her, grateful that somehow, we’ve made it to this place where we exist beyond Halloween.

“I’m ready,” Rosie whispers nervously, hours later, when we step into my shop. We’ve spent more nights here than at her place, despite the news that my grandfather can, in fact, move from place to place willingly. I can’t tell if it’s just because Rosie knows I feel more comfortable in my own space or if she genuinely just likes staying here, but I haven’t questioned it. Neither of us has tried to have the move-in conversation, even though I haven’t spent a night away from Rosie since Halloween, except for a couple of nights when she had sister sleepovers. But even then, if she was staying at her place, she snuck over to mine for a few hours before tiptoeing back to her place to be there when the girls woke up.

Despite things still being new, we’ve talked about the future plenty of times, so I know eventually, we’re going to buy a house together on the outskirts of Heartwood Hollow, where I’ll make sure Rosie gets her white picket fence and however many kids she wants. As an only child, I’ve loved hearing her stories about growing up with sisters, and even more so, watching them interact.

“Ready?” I ask, confused as I close the door behind us, taking off my jacket and hanging it on the coatrack I put next to the door. I still lock the door even though she always makes fun of me, but she doesn’t seem to understand that the most important thing in my life sleeps under this roof with me. It’s a small concession to keep her safe. But that’s out of my mind as I watch Rosie’s hands lift, moving behind her neck, and my heart starts to race.

She’s taking off her locket.