Chapter 12
Twelve
“Is soup okay for dinner?” Theo stuck his head out of the back door and I jerked my eyes away from the painting I was currently entranced with.
“Fine with me.” I refrained from tagging on the “again” to the sentence. I was just grateful for a hot meal every night.
Lori smirked from the rocking chair next to me. “He’s not going to beat those witch stereotypes brewing up a soup every evening.”
I smiled. “Huddled over the big pot on the stove. Practically a cauldron if you think about it.”
“He’s probably brewing a tea too.”
We both giggled.
Theo popped his head out again. “Did you say something?”
“No.” We both stifled our grins.
Lori had been keeping me company on the cottage porch ever since she returned from her shop hours ago. The sun had set and I’d likely strain my eyes trying to paint with the dim porch light. When Theo had noticed me working out here I swore he somehow made the bulb brighter.
There was something about the evening. A spark. Something unexplainably nostalgic and perfect at the same time.
Magic.
I’d never say it aloud and feed into Lori’s delusions that there was somehow anything magical about my painting abilities. But getting to know Theo had made the whole idea slightly less insane than it’d been at the start.
I was so used to him by now.
Yesterday, I’d stumbled in the hallway and Theo had been standing close enough to catch me in thin air. The whole thing was bizarre. But when his magic, or energy, or whatever, wrapped around me, it didn’t feel like nothing. It felt like him and it was all encompassing.
“You and Theo are getting quite cozy,” Lori said.
I didn’t glance up from the white highlight I was painting on a rain droplet.
“Just coexisting.”
“Oh, is that all? Could have fooled me.”
A smile danced on my lips as I swiped another satisfying stroke onto the canvas.
“You’ve been painting a lot this week,” she mused. “I thought you’d run out of oil paints.”
“Theo got me some more,” I said casually, even though nothing about the gesture had been casual.
The other day, I’d come downstairs to see brand new tubes splayed out on the kitchen table along with a few new canvases.
I’d been choked up just by the sight of them.
I’d only mentioned to Theo once my preferred medium, yet he’d managed to select the perfect supplies for me.
When I’d tried to thank him later, he’d brushed off my gratitude, but I could tell he was pleased that I was happy.
Now I was painting nonstop.
I had to keep up with the café. I’d already sold the three pieces I’d brought in there after the market. It wasn’t like I was rolling in money, but it felt good to share my work and be able to support myself again.
“I guess I’m feeling inspired lately.”
She hummed, smiling. I set my paintbrush down and stared at her.
“What?” I asked.
“He’s really taken with you, you know? He hasn’t opened up like this since he arrived.”
My lips parted. “You think he’s opening up to me?”
We hadn’t talked much since my car broke down, but I had to admit I did notice a shift in our energy. We no longer avoided each other. When he came home after working in Lori’s shop the other day, the first thing he did was track me down.
She laughed. “He follows you around like a lost puppy.”
I tried to brush off how good that comment made me feel. “Well he should probably start following someone that knows where the hell they’re going.”
“I know he’s leaving soon. But it’s nice to see you two getting along.”
A pesky little knot formed in my chest at the whole “leaving soon” thing. Of course he was. He had another realm to get back to after all. A whole other world and life I had no clue about because he hardly shared.
“And what about you?”
“What about me?”
“Any plans?” she clarified, staring out into the night like she could see something there that I couldn’t.
“Never.”
“You should stay. Why rush anything? I think the slower pace of this town looks good on you.”
I curled my legs underneath me. The cold air still nipped at my bones despite the wool blanket I was wrapped in. “You think?”
“I really do. Plus, I like having you here.”
I nibbled on the end of my paint brush, a terrible habit I’d never give up.
“I’ll think about it.”