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“Their loss,” he said. “Anyone’s loss, really.” His eyes were warm, his voice tender. “It would be the greatest privilege to be loved by you and to love you in return.”

Her cheeks warmed, her heart feeling mushy. She swallowed.

“I’ve never felt loved by them,” she said. “Or maybe I just don’t remember it.”

“I can’t tell you what would be worse,” he replied, finishing making his tea. “I remember my parents’ love, which only makes it harder to have it ripped away, to have those memories taunt me.”

They both sighed, falling into silence, but it wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable. It was nice talking to each other, feeling understood. Not being alone.

The door chimed with a customer entering.

“I’ve got it,” Grayson said, hand light on her back as he passed her.

It was the briefest of touches, but she relished it.

She craved his contact more and more each day. Kissing him felt like a lifetime ago, but whenever she thought about it, her blood pounded hard at the memory of his tongue in her mouth, the way he had touched her everywhere.

Even now her body pulsed at the thought.

Lucy mentally smacked herself, doing a little spell to cool down.

She seriously needed to relax before things got out of hand.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Lucy

The next week, Grayson was so quiet at work one day that Lucy became concerned. He looked sad.

Even her attempts to piss him off yielded no results. Plus, he was wearing mismatched socks, something she had never seen on him before. He was always immaculately put together, and today his navy-blue sweater and dark gray trousers were well fitted, but his hair was disheveled and his pants hadn’t been pressed.

Charles wasn’t in that day because he was tired, and he was well enough now to fend for himself at home alone, but Lucy was so worried that she ended up calling him to ask.

“What’s up with Gray?” she asked, tone hushed.

Grayson was sitting at a table, absentmindedly stirring a spoon in his tea, which was untouched and had been for the last fifteen minutes. Lucy kept sending a spell to reheat his tea so it would be warm when he finally drank it, but he hadn’t taken a sip yet.

“Dunno,” Charles replied, and she heard him walking through his house. “He was quiet this morning, but …” He trailed off, then swore. “Oh, this isn’t good. I just looked at the calendar.”

“What is it?”

“It’s his birthday.”

“Oh!” She frowned.

“When he was a kid, his parents used to go all out for his birthday,” Charles said. “It would be a full-day affair—he must be missing them.” He let out a breath. “I should have made him a special breakfast or something.”

“Don’t worry,” Lucy said, mind whirring. “We can still save the day. How about a special dinner for him tonight? We can have it at Mateo’s. Invite absolutely everyone.”

“Wonderful idea, Lucy-Lu!” Charles exclaimed, sounding happy. “I’ll brew up some witch-wine for a nightcap after.”

He laughed, and Lucy joined him. Witch-wine was extremely potent and only brewed for special occasions because it was so strong.

Plans set in motion, Lucy looked around to see if there was anyone in. Nope—perfect. She had a small window before more customers arrived, and she needed to make good use of it.

She went to make Grayson a special latte, using magic to make a little crown in the foam (latte art was way too tricky for her). Then she conjured a candle, stuck it into a red velvet cupcake, and lit it up.

Lucy brought the cupcake and latte to where Grayson was sitting at the table. She snapped a finger, doing away with his old tea.