Page 79 of The Hearth Witch’s Guide to Spite & Spellwork

“Because that girl didn’t actually exist, Hugh. I changed everything about myself over the course of our relationship because it was what you wanted.”

“So isn’t it better we didn’t go through with it?”

“No, it would have been better if you’d accepted me for who I was!”

“Saga—” Hugh hushed.

“And yet, even after I became everything you wanted, you not only left me, you couldn’t be bothered to even attempt an apology until four months later.”

Hugh’s eyes darted around the bar, taking a quick survey of other patrons to see if they were drawing attention. His shoulders hunched. “I know.”

“I moved all my things out, and you didn’t even try to call me. Did you even notice?” Saga’s heart betrayed her, and her voice hitched. “Did I mean so little?”

“I want to make things right between us, Saga,” pleaded Hugh. “I am so sorry about what happened. I really am. You did not deserve to be hurt like that.”

The flame in her flickered. “No, I didn’t.”

“Tell me,” he offered his hand. “I deserve to hear.”

There was an odd relief hearing that. If he wanted to hear how she’d been hurt, then he wanted to validate it. “The way it happened, that you started hanging out together more and more as we got closer to the day only to…” She shrugged not wanting to finish the sentence. She tried to see if the waiter was on his way back yet but caught Avery’s eye instead.

The other woman nodded encouragingly.

“It felt like you two had played me for a fool on purpose.”

“No, oh God, Saga, no. I promise neither Lana or I ever wanted to hurt you. We…we were in love, and we weren’t thinking.”

“I spent an hour crying in the bridal suite with my mother outside the door berating me for daring to have an emotion about the most humiliating day of my life.” She was not going to cry now. Her hands slid to her lap and she began to play with each individual charm on the bracelet.

“Your mother is a real piece of work,” said Hugh. “I can’t believe she said that to you. How awful. I’m so sorry.”

The corner of Saga’s lips twitched. Maybe this was going to feel cathartic after all. “It’s all right.”

“No, it’s not. You were heartbroken and she just stood there and poured salt in the wound!”

He wasn’t wrong, but Saga didn’t feel right agreeing with him either. “It’s how she’s always been, though.” She shrugged awkwardly. “You’d think I’d be used to it by now.”

“I can’t believe you still defend her.” He shook his head. “You’re a saint, Saga Trygg, a real saint.”

Their drinks arrived, and Saga could not have been more grateful to see a coupe glass.

“She cares in her own way. Rough around the edges…and everywhere else.”

Hugh laughed and she joined him despite herself. “Hugs like razor blades, has she?”

Saga paused at that joke as a realization dawned on her that she’d somehow never considered before. “I…don’t think she’s ever hugged me.”

“You’re joking.”

“I’m not!” Yet Saga laughed. “Is that weird? I feel like that’s weird.”

“I wouldn’t be the one to ask, remember? My parents are both from Cambridge. I was the black sheep for attending Oxford instead. I think they’ve shown more physical affection to their horses than they ever did to me and my brother.”

“Well at least if I ever get into any legal trouble, I’ll be set. Affection in the form of affidavit.” Saga took a sip of her drink. “But you know… When Mamó passed, my mother took care of everything. I mean, my aunt Leigh organized the funeral itself, but anything with paperwork and my mother was on it. She even handled the paperwork for the assets, and I know she’s hounding me about going through the town house, but… I think it’s so she can help me organize that too. Maybe not out of maternal obligation but…” She shrugged. “She cares in her own way.”

“Does that mean you got your grandmother’s townhouse then?”

Saga nodded. “Yes, she left it to me, along with…” There she stopped. Something in her told her not to mention the money. “Her cat.”