Page 31

You got it.

Gods, I am not looking forward to this.

Aurora didn’t actually give me a time to show up, because of course, she didn’t. It appears one of her interests is stressing me out, and she definitely does. Often.

According to my research, late afternoon tea is five o’clock in the evening, which works for me because I get off work at four. That gives me enough time to go home, change into something more comfortable, and fix my hair. It always ends up a mess throughout the day, probably because my assistant still has me pulling strands out.

He’s getting better at his job. Faster. And I have more hope than I did a week ago. That’s something in the middle of all this chaos.

I’m the only one who can handle this whole Aurora situation. As much as I’d love to pawn it off on Antoni, that wouldn’t be a good look. There’s a reason Jewel asked us to work together, even if I don’t understand it.

How much of this is fate? Most witches put a lot of stock in fate, and I guess I do too, but I’ve never believed in it as much as I did when Aurora walked into my office that day. But why they sent her my way, I’m not sure.

I show up at the cottage at exactly five o’clock, freshly showered and having dabbed on a little cologne.

Why? Why am I putting effort in? It can’t be to prove that I deserve to be the head witch. Smelling good isn’t part of the job⁠—

Before I can overthink it, the door swings open, and Aurora is smiling at me like we’re friends, even though we’re definitely not. Enemies is a little melodramatic for me, and acquaintances is a little distant, so I guess we’re somewhere between those two. Wherever that leaves us.

She looks me up and down, wetting her lips. “You’re looking especially lumberjack-y today.”

Probably referring to my flannel, but I’ve never seen a lumberjack with glasses as thick as mine. Maybe they wear contacts.

“Are you going to let me in?” I ask, crossing my arms to stop myself from touching my glasses.

“Depends.” She leans against the doorway, her dark eyes sparkling. “Are you going to pull out an ax and chase me around?”

“Only if you ask nicely.” I try to keep my expression flat, but I wonder how obvious it is that I’m fighting off a smile. “If you’re not ready for tea, I can turn right around⁠—”

“No,” she blurts, perking up. “I mean… yeah, come in.”

I clear my throat and bring the package of cookies out of my inner jacket pocket. “I brought these.”

Showing up empty-handed never feels right, especially not if she’s putting together tea for us. By the smell of things, she is.

She gasps; the sound is utterly delighted. “Did you really? I didn’t realize you could be polite.”

“Well, I can be. My dads taught me better than to show up without a gift for the host.”

Then again, my fathers would scold a lot of my behavior if they could see me now. My petty competition with Aurora would be at the top of the list.

Considering how many people supposedly live here, the cottage is quiet most of the time. Her brothers are often around town—the younger one has a job at the bookshop, and who knows what the oldest one is up to? We only spoke a few times, but I get the feeling he doesn’t like me.

And her mom—the locals are lucky enough that she’s started teaching painting classes. She’s talented. Some of her paintings are hung in the college, landscapes of flowers, skylines, and beautiful places, unlike anything I’ve seen.

It’s clear Aurora and her family have gone far and wide. What beauty could she possibly find in stuffy old Starbrook?

Aurora guides me to a little round, chestnut table in a sitting area in the kitchen. A large window displays the backyard—colorful trees as far as the eye can see. Steam rolls from the floral teapot at the center, and there are two cups, as well as a plate of cookies. Small lamps light the room, casting a dim golden glow. The last of the day’s sun shines through, and the warm light lights up her dark eyes as she peers at me from across the table.

The place looks so different now that the nostalgia in my chest becomes faint. The guilt, though, is always with me.

“So… ideas. I’m all ears.” I drop a sugar cube into the tea. Probably best not to linger for too long. “What are we drinking today, anyway?”

“My mom came up with a tea blend to appease the ghosts, and it’s charmed with a bit of happiness.” She lifts a shoulder. “I thought you could use something to improve your mood.”

“My mood is fine.”

She still hasn’t shared a single idea, which isn’t lost on me.