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“And why, pray tell, would you want to keep me safe?” Her voice drips with sarcasm. “You don’t even like me.”
“That’s not true.” I love her so much it makes me ache. “You saw the vision at the party. Every single person, standing there as if in a trance, without their eyes.”
She stumbles, and when she turns those hot eyes to me again, they’re wide and full of fear.
“What did you say?”
“You heard me.” I watch her swallow hard. “You saw it. You went pale, and your pulse was thrumming in your neck. I saw that. Do you think I don’t notice those things?”
“Look.” Daphne walks to a lamp and straightens the lampshade. Her lips twitch into a small smile at the touch. “You made it clear years ago that you don’t want anything to do with me.”
“And I’ve done nothing but try to talk to you for weeks. To ask you to listen. I know things, Daph. I’ve been seeing things for months now. And it’s getting worse.”
“You’ve always seen things.” She waves her hand, dismissing me.
“No. I cut that part of myself off after I left New Orleans.” I rub my hand over my lips in frustration. “I had to. Had to turn it all off.”
“Why?”
“It doesn’t matter. I bound it, but things, visions, are breaking through my shields, and I know it’s no coincidence that it’s you I see in them. Us. With your sisters and their husbands.”
She’s quiet for a long moment and then sighs deeply, lowering herself onto a small, purple sofa before rubbing her fingertips over her forehead as if she’s trying to rub away a headache.
“I hoped for more time,” she says at last.
“More time for what?” I cross to her but don’t touch her. I know it wouldn’t be welcome. “I was with you and the others at Witches Brew when it seemed all hell broke loose. And even though I wasn’t invited to the Samhain ritual during the blue moon, I know something happened there.”
“Did Oliver tell you?” she asks softly, but I can see in her eyes that she already knows the answer.
“No. I watched it all unfold in my head, Daph. And I know, deep down, that something’s about to happen. Something big. I just don’t know what it is.”
She nods. “Okay. I guess, whether I like it or not, it’s time. We had a whole year between what happened with Brielle and the mess with Millie. I hoped for the same.”
“You have to tell me what’s going on. I deserve to know, especially if it involves me.”
“I hate that you’re right.” She stands and spares a glance for the couple who just walked into her shop. “But I can’t do this here. I need to work. Let’s meet at Witches Brew later tonight after Millie closes. We’ll explain everything to you.”
“I’ll be there.”
I turn to leave but then look back at her. “It’s not true, you know. What you said.”
She quirks a brow.
“I don’t dislike you. You’re the only woman I’ve ever loved, Daphne. That hasn’t changed.”
“Excuse me?” a middle-aged man with silver hair interrupts. “Can I ask you a question about this umbrella stand?”
Daphne’s eyes don’t leave mine as she answers him. “Of course. I’ll be right with you.”
“I’ll let you work.” I wink at her and move toward the door. “I’ll see you tonight.”
I leave the shop and walk to my car. When I glance into the big front window of Reflections, I see Daphne still watching me.
* * *
“I know we’re late,” Brielle announces as she and her husband, Cash, rush into Millie’s café. Cash locks the door behind them.
I’m sitting at the coffee counter, taking them all in. Millie and Lucien move, touch, and look at each other as though they’ve been a couple for many years—certainly longer than the few months I know they’ve been together. Brielle laughs with Daphne as they chat about their days.
The three sisters couldn’t be more different—at least physically. Brielle, the eldest, has dark hair with blue eyes and a curvy figure. Millie is tall and willowy with long, blonde locks. And my Daphne has that fiery, curly red hair and a petite body that makes my mouth water.
But despite the lack of resemblance, they share an unbreakable bond—a fierce loyalty and love.
“It’s good to see you,” Brielle says and pats me on the shoulder. I glance warily at Daphne.
The last time Daph saw me with Brielle, she was livid. Felt betrayed.
And that only added fuel to the fire of her animosity toward me.
“You, too.”
“I’m glad you’re here,” Millie says to me as she wipes down the counter.
I glance at Lucien, who just grins and leans over to kiss his bride on the cheek.
“First, why don’t you tell us all why you’ve been so insistent on speaking with Daphne?” Brielle suggests. “Aside from the personal stuff you share, of course. Not that we don’t want to hear about that, but it’s probably none of our business.”
