Chapter Twenty-Three
The next morning, after a long night of tossing and turning, Bri and I went to work as usual, because that was what you did when you were a seventeen-year-old pretending to have your life together.
We were in the middle of an appointment with a buyer when Finlay knocked on our window.
He was carrying a bouquet of flowers, his cap tucked under one arm, and I felt the color rise in my cheeks as though a suitor were coming to call on me.
“Oh bother,” I said, earning an odd look from Bri. “It’s my birthday.”
Bri’s confusion turned to delight. “Why didn’t you say something? I’ll make a cake tonight!”
“That’s entirely unnecessary.” I opened the door for Finlay with a wan smile. “Hello, Finlay,” I said, ushering him inside.
“Happy birthday, Willow.” He handed me the flowers, a lovely assemblage of wildflowers with a few hothouse roses mixed in, likely all he could afford. I felt my heart go a wee bit soft and squidgy. If I’d had a hand free, I would have slapped my own face.
“Thank you. These are beautiful.”
To my surprise, he leaned in and brushed a light kiss on my left cheek.
In a daze, I touched my cheek with my fingertips. “What was that for?”
“I wanted to say thank you.” He glanced at the customer and cleared his throat, nodding for me to join him in the storeroom.
“I’ll be right back,” I said to Bri, hoping my hair hid the scarlet flush in my cheeks. Finlay followed on my heels.
“Thank me for what?” I asked, turning to him inside the storeroom.
“For what you’re doing for Bri. It’s … it’s really brave, Willow. I know you’re not afraid of anything—”
I laughed. “Who said that?”
“Oh, come now. You know you’re not.”
“I despise spiders,” I said. “I’m growing rather peevish toward bats. I’m not particularly fond of haggis.”
He smiled. “True. But you’re not afraid of it.”
“No, I suppose not.” I reached for a vase on the top shelf, my hand brushing against the fur of the wolpertinger.
I had barely thought about it lately, but now I couldn’t help wondering if it was time to awaken it and use my one wish to turn back time.
There were many things I would take back if I could.
I was on my tiptoes, still reaching for the vase, when I felt Finlay step behind me. He placed one hand on my waist, steadying me, and reached over my shoulder, lifting the vase easily.
I didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. This wasn’t the closest I’d ever been to Finlay, but there was something about the way his hand rested on my waist that felt different. His grip tightened, as if he had noticed it, too.
“The flowers really are lovely,” I said, turning. I lowered onto the soles of my feet as he brought the vase down, but his hand remained on my hip.
“So are you, Willow.”
My breath caught. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to melt through the floor or float up to the ceiling. I was mortified and elated at the same time. I settled for sarcasm, my comfort zone, my security blanket. “Lovely, or adorable?”
His brow wrinkled in confusion.
“A few weeks ago. You said I was adorable.”
He caught his lip with his teeth, remembering. “Ah, yes. I believe I also said you were brainless.”
I reached up, toying with the edge of his collar, wishing I could use it to draw him to me and wondering where my brain had got to, because it was decidedly not in my head. “But you didn’t mean that part,” I whispered.
“No, Willow,” he rasped. “I didn’t mean that part at all.”
I couldn’t help the thought that tapped insistently in my head, reminding me of the myriad reasons this was a terrible idea: that it wasn’t worth risking our friendship, that to love someone meant to lose them, that Finlay didn’t trust me to know my own heart.
And while I couldn’t blame him for that, I also knew whatever was happening right now between us was likely because he believed I had changed.
That where I’d once been sharp and selfish, I was suddenly caring and generous and brave.
The fact was, I was the worst kind of coward.
If I weren’t, I’d have told him the truth.
Instead, I leaned closer to him. As he closed his eyes and brought his face down to mine, I allowed the beating drum of my pulse to silence the dissenting voice in my head.
This, I thought as his lips hovered a heartbeat from mine. This is what I’ve been searching for all along.
“There you are!” Bri said, stepping into the closet. Finlay and I leapt apart in the world’s least subtle gesture.
“Sorry,” she said, glancing between us. “Our next customer is here.”
“Right, of course.” I straightened my skirt while Finlay pretended to look for something on the shelf. “I’ll be right there.”
“I’ll tell her,” Bri said, pressing her lips together as though smothering a smile.
As soon as she was gone, Finlay and I both exhaled loudly. We circled each other awkwardly, me reaching for the vase at the same time he reached for the flowers.
“I’ll take care of these,” he said. “You go see your customer.”
“Yep, will do.” I avoided his eyes as I stepped out of the closet, my heart rate still elevated and my hands trembling. Finlay Barrow had almost kissed me.
More to the point, I had wanted him to. I’d wanted it so badly I would have sold my soul for thirty more seconds in that closet without interruptions. I’d have sold my future offspring’s souls for another ten minutes.
I froze when I saw the person standing a few feet from Bri.
“Willow, you know Mr. Wexley,” Bri said, gesturing to the man standing beside her.
I had to steady myself on the front counter, all the heat flooding my body suddenly draining out of me.
“I thought our next customer was Mrs. Wheeler,” I said, nostrils flaring as I attempted to smile.
I hadn’t told Bri about my meeting because Finlay had cut me off last night.
I hadn’t even told Finlay Wexley’s name.
Bri had no idea what she’d opened herself up to.
“Mrs. Wheeler is my housekeeper,” Mr. Wexley said. “She made the appointment for me.”
“Of course she did,” I mumbled, once again regretting all my recent life choices. “What can I help you with?”
“I was just telling your friend Brianna that I’m an avid collector. I came to see what you had on offer.” He let his gaze travel around the room, though I knew it was all an act. He wasn’t taking in anything. “I must say, your shoppe is positively whimsical. Such a charming endeavor you two have.”
My cheeks twitched in a puppet’s imitation of a smile. “Thank you. Now that you’ve seen it, I suppose you’ll need to be on your way?”
“Well, I’m here now. It seems a waste not to browse, don’t you think?” He turned and began to make his way through the store, touching various items I knew he had no interest in.
“What is going on with you?” Bri asked, squeezing my arm and yanking me behind the counter. “He’s obviously filthy rich. Why are you being so rude?”
“I get a bad feeling from him,” I said, glancing toward the storeroom. I didn’t know what Finlay was doing in there, but I could only hope he stayed hidden.
“Get a grip,” Bri hissed, moving back around the counter. “Can I help you with anything?” Bri called to Wexley, as innocent as a lamb heading for slaughter.
He turned around carrying a brass lantern and my breath caught. He was already holding it. He could see it did nothing magical. The moment Bri touched it …
A green light flickered in the lantern, followed by a pink light, then blue. My eyes found Bri’s, and she shrugged.
“Another customer was looking at that right before you,” she said to Wexley, and I realized it was for my benefit.
The lantern’s magic had already been activated.
I breathed a sigh of relief as Bri explained that the light matched the holder’s mood.
She laughed as the light continued to flicker.
“In your case, it seems rather undecided.”
Now it was Wexley’s turn to flash a false smile. “How amusing.” He set the lantern down. “As I said, a charming little shoppe, but not for me, I’m afraid.”
I started to breathe a sigh of relief as he moved toward the front door. Just then, I heard Finlay’s voice behind me. “Oh, Mr. Wexley. I didn’t realize you were here.”
My heart clenched as he turned and beheld Finlay. “Oh, Mr. Barrow! What a delight. Do you work here now, as well?”
“No, sir. I was bringing Willow some flowers for her birthday.” He smiled at me, and I knew as soon as his crooked tooth flashed that my fate had been sealed. Anyone with half a brain could see it was not the smile of an acquaintance.
Wexley’s gaze darted between the two of us, something sinister glittering there. “What a lovely little trio the three of you are.”
“I’m afraid it’s time for us to close,” I said, earning an angry look from Bri and a confused one from Finlay.
“Of course,” Wexley replied. “Walk me to the door, Miss Stokes?”
I rolled my eyes and moved toward him as his hand fell on a crystal ball held by a gold claw pedestal.
Even though we weren’t entirely sure what it could do—we assumed it was some sort of scrying device, but we wouldn’t know until Bri touched it—we had priced it quite high, because it was a pretty thing even if it didn’t work for long.
“Oh!” Wexley exclaimed with what sounded an awful lot like genuine delight. “I haven’t seen one of these in ages! A shame it doesn’t work.”
I watched in horror as Bri moved toward him and placed her hands on the crystal ball. Instantly, a lavender mist swirled within the sphere, and an image began to materialize.
“That’s not for sale,” I shouted, flinging a dusting cloth over the crystal ball and shoving Bri out of the way. “It’s not working properly,” I said. “A little hiccup, but we’re sorting it out.”
From the way Wexley looked at me I knew I was too late. His gaze once again traveled among the three of us, a mental calculation flashing behind those dark, dark eyes. We were well and truly doomed.