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But I was ready for more.

I was done shielding the men in my life from parts of me they might not like or understand. What was the point of a life with someone who couldn’t embrace all of me? Better to be unapologetically myself on my own than a fragment of what I could be with someone by my side.

“So, remember calling me a witch earlier?” I asked.

Art winced. “Please tell me I didn’t…”

“Oh, but you so did,” I said, slightly hysterical laughter bubbling out of me.

Slipping my hand in his and squeezing it tight, I told him about my family, their witchy abilities, and my childhood as a magical dud.

“Turns out, I’m not a dud after all. Peggy calls what I have ‘the sight.’ Her grandmother had it too. I can see things that most people can’t. I read things about people’s futures in their tea leaves. And sometimes I just know things I shouldn’t know. I saw Viv in that field with the calf clear as day. Just like I saw what was going to happen with Shona’s investors.”

Art didn’t react, but he also didn’t pull his hand from mine.

“It’s not consistent, and I can’t control it. Though I get the feeling that I’ll get better at it the longer I stay here. It feels like the ancient magic steeped in the ground calls mine to the surface.”

My heart hammered in my chest as I waited for some sort of reaction from him.

“Say something, please,” I finally cried, unable to take any more silence.

“I’m sorry!” he exclaimed, turning to face me. I was so relieved to see none of the revulsion or horror I’d expected that my knees almost buckled. “I needed a minute to wrap my brain around what you said. And to find a way to apologize again. I was so flippant earlier.” He winced. “I made that crack about you being a witch, and you still had the courage to tell me.” His eyes widened, shining with awe and wonder. “I should have known that you’re more than just marvelous, Meg. You’re magical.”

TWENTY-SEVEN

By the time the last customer of the day left after insisting we do a group selfie in front of the flower wall, all that remained in the cookie display case was a small pile of crumbs. Even though it had felt like wishful thinking at the time, I’d anticipated that we’d sell out and had stashed a few dozen bare cookies in the fridge. I wasn’t relishing the thought of being up all night decorating them, but at least I wouldn’t have to bake any first.

“Anyone up for a wee cup of tea?” Fiona offered valiantly. How she had the energy to still be standing, bustling around, tidying things behind the counter, was beyond me. That she was willing to make even more tea defied all logic.

“You do not have to make more tea! How many pots did you brew today?” I asked, stifling a yawn from the bistro table where I was sitting, slumped bonelessly against Art.

Fiona’s laughter didn’t hold a single trace of the exhaustion pulling at my limbs.

“Och, at least a dozen, wouldn’t ye say, Mam?” Fiona winked at her mother, who was helping her tidy up.

“Och, aye. At least a dozen,” Peggy replied, laughing. “And then a few more after that. I’m so proud of ye wee gels. What a magical day.” She shook her head, eyes shining with wonder and possibly a few tears. “My wean’s finally found her place,” she said, her lower lip trembling a bit.

“Nao, Mam. Let’s nae get carried away. None of that noo. It’s celebrating we’re after, not weeping. Ye’ll make the tea too salty! Plenty of salt in the chips the children went tae get.”

She laughed so hard at her own joke, it was impossible not to laugh along with her.

“Would you…” Art said quietly, glancing down at me almost shyly. “If I have a cup of tea… do you think you’ll see something in my tea leaves?”

I glanced over, but Fiona and Peggy were paying us no mind.

“Do you want me to see something?” I murmured, tilting my head back to see if he was being serious.

Art chuckled a little nervously. “I’m not actually sure. Yes, but also no. I don’t know how I feel about knowing the future.”

“It’s only one possible future,” I replied with a small shrug. “And what I see is open to interpretation. Nothing is ever set in stone.”

Art brightened. “Well, in that case, there’s nothing to lose, right?”

“It’s not even a given that I’ll see anything, you know,” I hedged.

“If that’s how the cookie crumbles, so be it,” he said, winking at me and laughing.

I groaned, twisting away and collapsing across the table. “Please don’t even say the word cookie,” I said out loud.