Chapter 24
sad origami
Only five minutes away from the library, Jess had barely had time to start hating the ukulele soundtrack that had been playing on their first tea date so long ago—that first mutually brave, almost tea buddies date. Jess could barely comprehend how long they’d been in each other’s orbits, and it had gone so fast.
Callie hit the front door like a charged breath of spring. She grinned at the two baristas and called out an order, then headed back to the same table where Jess, the chaotic single mom with a resting murder face, was sitting, having difficulty making eye contact with Callie.
She greeted Jess like an old friend. “God, we haven’t been here forever. Great choice.” Snickering, she pointed to the ceiling, “But this music…it’s still so…on.”
Callie was almost settled when she heard her name called. “Back in a sec.” After a sip, she snickered, “So, cute tea ambush lady…miss me?”
Jess’s laugh came out weird, oddly high-pitched. “Yeah,” she said, then let out a chuckle that seemed to struggle on its way out. “I needed that. It’s been a weird day, plus I’ve got some time before I have to get Cam to the rink.” Still, there was almost no eye contact.
Callie looked at Jess like she almost believed her, having watched Jess start fidgeting the moment she walked in. She called Jess’s bluff. “I don’t believe you.”
Jess’s frustrated sigh was loud enough to interrupt the conversation of the couple sitting two tables away. Slumped in her chair, she pulled out a piece of paper from her jacket pocket. It appeared to have been initially folded, then crumpled into a ball, then smoothed out again. Jess didn’t say anything, just slid it across the table with twitching lips and trembling fingers, then looked out the window.
Callie blinked, brow rising. She picked up the note and opened it, the faintest smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Then she read it, and her smile faltered.
Her frown wasn’t cruel; it was thinking, processing, but Callie’s reaction landed in Jess’s stomach as a sucker punch.
Jess stiffened, her panic blooming fast and hard.
“Well, goddammit,” she flared—too loudly—at the ceiling, and the café went silent, but Jess didn’t seem to care. “Oh, for fucks… fine. Just… fine.”
Callie’s reaction was a slo-mo parade of wide-eyed surprise and shock, then, as a quiet understanding took its place, her brow arched—soft now, fond. “God, you are adorable.”
Jess, triggered by more than one kind of frustration, yanked her tote bag onto the table, the kind that doubled as a purse, extra puck carrier, weapons cache, and now a personal emotional landfill. She flipped it over with a whump, dumping its contents to pile up in front of Callie.
Fifty, maybe more, little crumpled notes spilled out as sad origami. Each was a tiny yet rejected confession idea from Jess. Some bore crossed-out words, a few with tea stains. Another had a half-doodle of a raven with a line of poetry. Callie saw the corner of one that had a drawing, obviously of Callie, featuring Callie’s perky and nipple-freed chest. Jess was furious.
“I tried, okay,” she shrieked, her voice splitting octaves high enough to get a customer’s support dog to drop to the floor. “I tried every version. Sweet. Poetic. Sexy. Epic—there are like a dozen of those. Dumb? All of them. I couldn’t get them to say how I feel.”
A gasp came from the checkout counter, and Callie’s eyes darted around the café—their café— and Jess was now clearly the center of attention. Callie sat frozen for a minute, eyes wide, still holding the original note. All eyes watched as Callie reached for another of the crumpled rejects.
Jess hadn’t noticed the quiet. She couldn’t hear anything but the blood thundering in her ears. She saw Callie’s brow arching, then heard a quiet gush of steam from the espresso maker. She scanned the little tea shop, and her eyes lasered at Callie as she uncrumpled the second note. Horrified, Jess sat down, covering her face with her hands. “Please, dearest Saints, don’t you dare.”
But Callie cleared her throat; she had an audience and was going to use it. “This one says…”
“Oh my God,” Jess’s forehead went to the table, and her arms went over her head as Callie’s voice rose in the café.
“You smell like books and lavender…and thunderstorms. I think I’m in love with you. Or enchanted with you. Maybe both. I can’t tell anymore.”
With Jess’s face still hidden, all Callie could see was how red her ears were.
“Yeah, that one was maybe into the top ten,” Jess mumbled, though Callie’s ears caught a chorus of empathetic ohhhs behind her. She picked up another.
“Sometimes I think I’d burn the world down to make you tea, and I’m not proud of that, but I still think it counts as love.”
“InTENSE,” Callie heard, then a smattering of applause. Having had her fun, Callie smiled at the café, then turned back to Jess and looked at her. Really looked, and when she spoke again, her voice was quiet, only for Jess’s ever-glowing ears.
“Jessemay, you could’ve handed me a napkin with a heart-shaped coffee stain, and I’d still say yes.”
Jess peeked through her fingers, daring to feel seventeen again. “Say yes…to what?”
Callie grinned, then started to gather all of the little papers in front of her. “To this. To us. To whatever version of the words you’re trying to write. Yes to every one of these. I’m so happy.”
“Yeah?” Jess asked, daring to lift her head off the table. “I’m not too late? I’ve been so…after we…and then I got…”
“You’ll never be too late, Jess. I’m going to keep every one of these.”
Jess’s grimace returned as she envisioned some horrifying vision board with each doodle pressed under glass for mocking public scrutiny, but Callie reached across the table and took her hand. The calm was instant. “You are so sweet.”
The moment was electric, and Callie started to rise from her chair. Jess’s shy smile, teary and embarrassed, had never looked more desirable. Callie didn’t care if the entire café was watching; she wanted them to see her kiss Jess, a public testament to her patience and the innocence of Jess’s awkward and perfect gesture. It was perfect; at this moment, their hearts intertwined, and finally, Jess accepted Callie’s devotion and started to stand. There would be a loving embrace, and their lives would begin together.
Callie couldn’t decide as she pulled Jess close. Should she push that fallen lock of her hair behind her ear and kiss her slowly? Or rush her, arms tight around her, then lift her to the heavens.
Jess was staring; she’d caught that special glint in Callie’s eyes, and she’d seen it before. When the young rookie librarian had handed her a cookbook. Her eyes had sparkled just like now. Jess remembered the sparkle, and here it was again.
“I didn’t mean for this to be the moment,” Jess whispered. “But I want it to be.”
Café patrons were on the edges of their seats, and people were standing from their chairs with a couple of phones recording as Callie flicked her tongue across her lips. Callie whispered back, her breath grazing Jess’s lips. “Then…my darling Jessemay, let it—”
The air in the café, already charged with a delicious intensity, crackled. Not metaphorically, but literally. It snapped as a static charge shot across the café, setting two espresso machines to thrumming and milk frothing.
A pulse of light sparked off the espresso machine, and the barista shrieked.
It was Isabel.
She had materialized in the middle of a downtown café with four kinds of chai on the menu. In public…with real-world people. Her arrival caused the sound system to short out; again, someone applauded the lack of the annoying soundtrack.
She seemed taller. Somehow leggier. Wrapped in tight dark green leather with shadowy runes swirling around her showcased body. Red curls bounced with defiance, and she smelled like a cherry pie with a touch of ozone.
“Lovely moment aside,” she said with her voice rich with Irish intention, “that’s gonna have to count.”
Jess looked Isabel up and down, then once again. She deliberately avoided eye contact with Callie. “Count for what?”
Isabel turned to Jess as if she were explaining it to a student who had missed three months of class. “The confession. Your confession, love. And written, er scribbled, no less. Technically, it seals the bond better than the spoken word. Solidifies the prophecy. Seer and Shield, it’s all in the book.”
Callie made a slight choking sound.
“That was a confession?” Jess asked, then looked at the entire café, only to see heads nodding. “I didn’t even say—”
“Oh, please,” Isabel scoffed. “You basically screamed I love you with every fiber of your previously traumatized but now cautiously hopeful shapely witchy being.” Isabel then turned to the shocked crowd. “So say ye?” The café erupted into applause.
“You two know each other?” Jess’s eyes darkened, and Isabel lifted both hands, palms out.
“We had a drink together. Some time ago. At a bar.”
Jess pivoted to Callie, “Your Jess pissed me off, so I’m gonna get a drink outing?”
Her eye twitched, which Callie found adorable, but she also saw Jess looking at Isabel’s behind and leaned toward Jess. “Mm, that one. “Callie nodded, “Just a drink. One. I mentioned meeting her.”
Jess leaned in. “You literally said she was a helpful archivist with good posture.”
“Technically…true.” Callie frowned, but Jess’s quiet jealousy reveal was so cute, a grin slipped and stayed.
“I could balance a quarter on her ass,” Jess rolled her eyes, “and zero comment on that rack.”
Isabel beamed at them like a proud aunt turned tactical commander. “Now that your little flirtation has exploded in public and fate’s satisfied. Let’s move, darlings. The Veil is splitting like a hemline on a bad date.” She raised her eyebrows at Jess. “Thanks, by the way.”
The civilians were frozen. Phones were being held mid-air, and someone spilled an oat latte.
Callie grabbed her bag and swept Jess’s love offerings into it. Jess looked at Isabel, then back to Callie, and couldn’t stop the tiniest smirk from twitching to life. “Helpful archivist, huh?”
Isabel snorted. “Her words. I just enjoyed the delivery.”
“Can we just let it go?” Callie groaned, but Isabel turned, leaning hard into Jess. “Also, for the record, she denied me. I worked hard, and she said no. Good on ya, Jessemay.”
Hurrying through the building, Isabel began casting sigils that looked like sparkling paper plates as they passed by customers. Phones powered down, and people resumed whatever they were doing, suddenly oblivious to what had just happened. Isabel hustled Jess and Callie out the door, then turned to face the café.
“Make sure to catch us at the Renaissance Festival this fall in Shakopee. We put on quite the show.” She shrugged, going out the door. “Just in case my protection shields don’t catch everyone. A little confusion helps as well.”
Callie seemed a little disappointed in the parking lot as Isabel clicked her key fob to find her car. “You didn’t zap in from parts unknown?” she asked, only for Isabel to laugh.
“Nah, I’m not a Traveler. Sweet divine, no. I’ve better things to be.”
She looked at the couple in the back seat, then reached to adjust her rearview mirror. “I’ll take you both home to pack. We have about an hour before wheels up. Snog if you want.” It sounded like more of a dare.
Jess took Callie’s hand. “We’re good,” she said, momentarily distracted. “Wait—an hour? I have a kid at home.”
“I work in the morning,” Callie said softly, figuring it wasn’t going to matter.
Isabel hesitated, then let some of the showmanship fall away. “I’m kidding. Sort of. It’s not wheels up. It’s a quick get-together.” Her voice shifted—less aunt, more messenger. “I have a little news. Best I bring you two up to speed.”
“After all these years,” Jess said, “he’s only an hour away.” Her eyes narrowed, but she looked at Callie, her expression pained. “I’m sorry. I need to put him and…everything behind me.”
“Jessemay?” Isabel said awkwardly, like she hated the next sentence. “There’s more,” she admitted. “So much more that both of you need to hear.”
Isabel didn’t move right away.
She leaned against the car, arms folded, watching Jess and Callie like she’d accidentally stumbled onto something ancient and oddly satisfying. A smile tugged at her mouth—small, private.
“Well,” she said at last, “before I ruin this entirely—Wisconsin. That’s all I’m giving you tonight.”
Jess’s jaw tightened. Callie’s fingers curled more firmly around hers.
“No more tonight,” Isabel added quickly, holding up a hand. “Soon. Close enough to matter. Far enough that you get this moment.”
She glanced between them, eyes narrowing—not unkindly. “Also? You two are a couple of lusty billboards right now. Mana’s bleeding off you both like neon.”
Callie blinked. “We’re—what?”
“Get a room,” Isabel said, deadpan. Then softer, almost fond, “Or at least learn some suppression before you light up half the Midwest.”
Jess huffed a breath that might’ve been a laugh.
Isabel pushed off the car, keys chiming. “I’ll give you ten minutes.” A pause. “Enjoy being normal. It’s about to get… instructive.”
She opened her door, then hesitated—just once—looking back at their joined hands.
“Nice work,” she said. And meant it.
The door shut. The engine turned. The night settled.
Jess didn’t let go.
They stood in the parking lot for a half second longer than necessary, the city noise rushing back in around them like nothing holy had just happened.
Jess and Callie eyed each other like sharks—slow, circling, smiling.
“Wait,” Callie said, tilting her head. “Do you really have to pick up Cam?”
Jess blinked, the question landing late. “Yeah. I got…” She huffed a quiet laugh, rubbing the back of her neck. “Distracted today. With—”
Callie’s smile grew, warm and unmistakably pleased. “With me.”
Jess nodded once.
“It was kind of fun,” Callie went on, voice dropping just for her. “Being this pent up.”
Jess’s breath caught like she’d swallowed a spark.
“Kiss me,” Callie said.
They did.
Not rushed. Not desperate. A grounding kiss. The kind where the world tilts just enough to remind you where your feet are. Callie closed her eyes and, for a split second, imagined the camera doing a slow, perfect three-sixty around them—two women reconnecting in the open air, magic still humming under their skin—before she pulled back, breathless and bright-eyed.
“Can I come with you?” she asked.
Jess stilled.
Callie rushed the rest, suddenly shy. “To take Cam to hockey, I mean. Or… both.”
Jess didn’t answer right away. She just looked at her. Took her in. The café chaos. The confession. The interruption. The way Callie had stayed—always stayed.
Then she nodded.
Callie’s face lit up so fast it almost hurt. “Okay. Yes. Yes—”
Jess’s hand found hers again, but this time Jess didn’t just take it. She held on as if she were deciding something.
Her voice dropped. “Will you… let me hold your hand at the rink?”
Callie stopped breathing.
The rink wasn’t neutral ground. It was history. It was Jess’s old life and Cam’s life and a hundred familiar faces who thought they knew exactly what shape Jess’s world was allowed to be.
Callie’s throat worked. No words came. Just a stunned, rising joy that made her eyes burn.
“Jess,” she managed, like it was a prayer and a warning at the same time.
Jess’s mouth twitched—half grim, half brave. “We were warned about PDA.”
Callie’s laugh broke out in a small, disbelieving laugh. “Yeah. We were.”
Jess lifted their joined hands slightly, testing the weight of them. Testing the future.
Callie nodded hard, still wordless. Over the moon. Terrified. Thrilled. All of it.
“Yes,” she finally whispered. “Yes. You can. You can hold it the whole time.”
Jess exhaled like she’d been holding her breath for twenty years.
Behind them, Isabel made an impatient sound—pure aunt, pure commander, pretending not to care.
But Jess didn’t let go.
And Callie didn’t either.