Chapter 37
BLAIRE
Idrink two terrible cups of hotel coffee, and they nearly take me out.
I might give up coffee for life after that monstrosity.
Outside the window is the city, and it’s louder than I imagined it would be.
I have not had the best time so far, but I’m trying to stay positive because it’s the Witches’ New Year.
Yesterday, between my rideshare and the hotel, I lost my phone. I don’t know anyone’s phone number other than my parents’, and they answer unknown numbers as much as I do. They don’t.
I sit on the edge of the hotel bed and then remember Charmed Cauldron. Shit.
I dial the number, and Winter answers.
“It’s a charming day at Charmed Cauldron. How can I help you?”
“Winter. Oh, my goodness. It’s me!” I almost burst into tears. I’m so happy.
“Blaire! Where are you? You went dark. Josie has been threatening to fly out there with a search party.”
“I lost my phone! I don’t know anyone’s number. I’m calling you from the hotel phone like it’s 1985. I’m going to buy a burner phone until I can get back home.”
“Write my number down right now,” she orders before giving it to me.
I dig the hotel pen from the nightstand and scribble it on my palm. That’s when I see the scar across my palm. I wonder where Jamie is.
“Have you found him yet?” Winter asks.
“No,” I tell her. “I will today. I hope.”
“Keep me updated,” she says. “And be careful.”
“I will.”
I stop at a phone store before I venture into the city alone.
I get a burner phone in case I have an emergency, but I buy the lowest amount of minutes and no data.
On the way out, the cashier tells me about an internet café a few blocks over that can help me print out the subway routes so I can navigate the city.
I find it, by some miracle.
Two guys are coding in the corner. It’s three dollars an hour with a keyboard that has a sticky F.
I buy ten minutes and search Jamie on the internet like my future depends on it.
I scroll past a month of headlines that include my name.
At the bottom, I find a website that talks about his hockey foundation and his fifteen-million-dollar penthouse that overlooks Central Park.
Fifteen million.
I knew he was rich, rich, but it’s hard for me to believe because he’s so normal.
In Pine Haven, I can’t cross Main Street without four conversations happening. Here, I walk forty blocks in full witch regalia, and no one looks twice at me. The energy in the city is different, like magic lives under the streets.
Two blocks later, I walk into the lobby of his foundation. His name stretches across the wall with photos of him on the ice with different groups of kids. This is a side of him I’ve never seen.
My heart rides in my throat when I step onto the elevator because I don’t have a plan.
I move up to the reception area, and a tall woman greets me with a grin. She knows who I am.
“Mr. Cross is no longer associated with this organization,” she says, glancing around. “It would be in your best interest for you to leave.”
“What?” I ask.
“Please leave, Ms. Wardwell,” she explains.
“Do you know where he is?”
She shakes her head. “I don’t. I’m sorry.”
“… no longer associated with this organization.”
I leave, feeling uneasy.
When I’m outside, I look up at the sky, not understanding what’s going on.
Jamie left Pine Haven with a thank-you note, disconnected his phone, and then quit his job? Is he trying to disappear?
I panic, wanting to make sure he’s okay and not trying to erase himself one account at a time.
I take a taxi uptown, knowing if I walk another mile in these boots, I’ll be an angry witch.
Thirty minutes later, I’m stepping out of a cab at the corner of the high-rises that sit on the edge of Billionaires’ Row.
The lobby floors are marble, and it smells like luxury.
The man behind the desk waves me over to him.
“Hello, miss. May I help you?”
I smile. “I’m searching for Mr. Jameson Cross.”
“Ahh, I’m so sorry. We can’t confirm our residents.”
My face nearly breaks because I don’t know if I’ll ever find him. “Thanks.”
I’m mentally exhausted. I really believed I’d find him today. The only thing I can do is backtrack to the internet café and try to get in touch with Patterson. Maybe his brother will know what’s going on.
I make it half a block before my feet stop on their own. The tingle starts at the back of my neck, the same sensation that made me get on a plane with no plan. I turn around, ready to break down over this.
Across the street, a man wearing a baseball hat and a tweed gray coat shoves a duffel bag in the back of a vintage black Mustang convertible, parked at the curb with its flashers on. He’s tall. Broad shoulders. Familiar. My heart names him first.
When he turns, I meet his blue-green eyes.
The world around me fades away, and I’m brought back to the first time he ever walked into my shop.
“Blaire?” he asks, tilting his head, looking at me like he’s seen a ghost. He walks toward me. “Blaire. Sweetheart.” He laughs. “I manifested you.”
Our lips crash together, and I grab his face, making sure this is real and I’m not imagining him.
“Are you trying to disappear? Where are you going?”
“To find you.” With his hands in my hair, he pulls my mouth back to his again.
Suddenly, we’re back in the harbor again. We’re in the hay maze and howling at the moon.
“I’m in love with you,” he whispers against my mouth. “So fucking in love with you, and I can’t deny it anymore.”
Now I’m crying. “I’m in love with you too.”
“I’m relieved.” His thumbs wipe my tears away. “The fling ended November first. And it did. I want more than that, Blaire.”
“Move in with me,” I say. “At the manor with my roommates and a cat who adores you. I don’t want to wake up without you next to me again.”
“Fuck yes,” he says without hesitation. “Patterson gave me his place on the ridge so we have another escape if we need it.”
I’m giddy.
“What happened to your phone? And the foundation? I thought you were erasing yourself. I thought I’d made you disappear.”
This makes him laugh. “That’s not possible.”
He kisses me again, and when I pull away, I see the flash of cameras in the distance.
“The paps,” I say.
“I don’t give a fuck.” He takes my hand and leads me toward the car. “Want to go on a little road trip?”
“Right now?” I ask.
“Everything I’m taking to Pine Haven is in the trunk.”
“I need to stop by the hotel and grab my bag, but yes,” I tell him.
He closes the trunk.
“Is this your car?”
“Yeah,” he says, looking like a fantasy.
“Can I drive it?” I hold out my palm.
The keys are tossed in the air, and I catch them in my palm. His grin goes wolfish as he opens the door for me, and I drop into the driver’s seat.
“Promise to treat her well?”
“Promise,” I say, and he shuts the door, then climbs into the passenger side.
Once he’s buckled, I push in the clutch and gun it.
“You can drive a standard,” he says, impressed.
“Babe, my first vehicle was a Jeep with a stick. I’m more surprised that you can drive.” I peel out of Billionaires’ Row with half a block of smoke.
He howls over the engine, one hand braced on the door, but he’s not worried at all. He’s watching me.
“You have no idea how good you look driving my car,” he says.
“There will be plenty of time to talk. We’re driving across the country.”
Jamie routes me to my hotel because I don’t have a sense of direction in this big city. I run upstairs, quickly pack my things, and then check out early. He’s waiting for me behind the steering wheel with his flashers on. I climb in, and he kisses me, then we’re off.
We drive the tunnel into New Jersey. The skyline shrinks in the side mirror until it fades away. His hand stays on my thigh.
He hunts through radio static until a station comes on. It’s a fuzzy Fleetwood Mac. He turns it up and drives seventy-five with the sun hanging lazily in front of us. We watch it until it sets.
We stop at a gas station and grab Red Bulls and gummy worms, along with two scratch tickets. We win four dollars on the hood of the Mustang as he fills it up. I cash it in and grab a few Snickers.
At some point, when we’re both too tired that we can’t drive any longer, we stop at a roadside diner attached to a motel with a buzzing neon sign. The waitress calls us both hon, refills our coffee without asking, and doesn’t give two shits about who we are. It’s magical.
“Will you tell me what happened?” I finally ask. “With the foundation?”
“They wanted me to sign a contract saying I’d stay away from you. I couldn’t do that.” He smirks. “Fuck them.”
“I’m sor—”
“No,” he says calmly, grabbing my hand. “Don’t apologize. You’re not up for negotiation. Ever.”
The waitress swings back through, and we order a piece of pumpkin pie with whipped cream. We eat it off one plate, and between bites, I tell him what he missed. Before the plate is clean, I borrow his phone since my dumb one is packed away. I read Winter’s number off my hand.
I send her a photo of the two of us squeezed into one side of the booth, with three words.
Blaire
I found him!
The reply instantly comes back.
Winter
KNEW YOU WOULD!
Instead of getting back on the road, we rent a room for the night.
It hasn’t been updated in decades, with shaggy brown carpet and wood-paneled walls.
I sit on the edge of the bed, watching him shrug off his coat.
There is no deadline hanging over us. There are no secrets. Just this moment.
“I love you, Blaire,” he confesses in my ear.
“I love you too,” I say, holding on to him.
He undresses me in the neon light. The velvet and lace fall to the floor, and then he kisses every inch of me. We take our time like two people who have found forever. Maybe we have.