Chapter 38
JAMIE
Iwake up before the sun in a haunted house with a chonky orange cat on my chest. Charlie grunts and protests with a paw to my face when I try to sneak out of bed.
I place my finger over my lips, not wanting him to give me away.
He jumps onto the floor and follows me downstairs to the dark kitchen.
I feed him, knowing he’ll probably act like he’s starving around Winter and Josie. Sir Charles is a player.
The cupcake box sits in the pantry behind the flour, exactly where Josie swore it would be this morning.
Four purple cupcakes, wearing witch hats and sprinkles, wait for me.
Her price for baking them in secret was unlimited espresso through the entire month of December.
I turn on the espresso machine and brew a double shot, just the way she likes it.
When I moved in, we had to make some upgrades to the appliances.
Blaire’s asleep with one arm thrown over my side of the bed, like she’s saving my place.
I stand there for a second longer, admiring her in the early morning light.
Seeing her every morning will never get old.
It’s my Roman Empire. I set the tray down on the bedside table and kiss her cheek, jaw, and the corner of her mouth until she smiles.
“Good morning,” I say, rubbing my nose against hers.
“Morning,” she mutters, her voice still full of sleep.
“Happy National Witches’ Day, sweetheart,” I say.
She sits up a little higher in bed, her hair a messy, sexy disaster. Her brown eyes are half open, and she looks at me like I’m everything.
“Cupcakes and coffee?” she asks, grinning wide.
“It’s a holiday.”
Blaire laughs, pulling me into the bed with her. “Thank you.”
“Gotta treat my favorite witch.”
She takes the mug with both hands and inhales. “You spoil me.”
“I try.” I kiss her sweetly.
We eat cupcakes in bed for breakfast, and before she gets dressed for work, I open the closet and pull a small box from the back. I hand it to her, and she unwraps it, pulling out a gold chain. On the end hangs a perfectly cut soft pink rose quartz.
“This is beautiful.” Her thumb rubs across it. “This is a love crystal.”
“I had it made just for you,” I tell her.
I take the chain from her hands and move her hair to the side, helping to put it on her neck. The stone settles in the middle of her chest.
“Thank you,” she says.
“You’re welcome, sweetheart. A love crystal for when I’m not around to tell you myself.”
She looks down at it and smiles sweetly. Then she pulls me closer, tasting like frosting and espresso. Charlie uses the distraction to steal a cupcake wrapper in his mouth and runs away with it.
“Hey!” Blaire hollers at him but then focuses back on me. “I’m so happy you’re still here.”
“Damn, me too.”
I didn’t know if I’d be here or not, but it was a risk I was willing to take.
Thanksgiving is a week and a half away, and Blaire is hosting Friendsgiving here at the manor. It will be our first holiday together, and I honestly can’t fucking wait. I have a lot to look forward to.
Josie and Winter leave for the day, and Blaire waltzes into the kitchen, jingling with every step. She’s moved from autumn to Christmas.
“You’re adorable,” I tell her, sliding my hand in my pocket.
“Yeah, so are you,” she says. “Are we having dinner tonight?”
“From now until eternity,” I tell her. “Meeting me at the cabin?”
“With bells on,” she says, wiggling her foot, stealing a kiss as she fills her to-go coffee mug. “Everything okay?”
“Perfect. Have a great day.” I smile.
“It’s already been the best. Not sure how it can get any better than this. Walk me to work?”
“Yep.” I put on some shoes and grab my coat.
We had our first dusting of snow the day we got back from New York. Blaire took it as a sign from the universe.
As soon as we step outside, I grab her hand because I no longer have any reason to hide. The paps are still following us around, but we keep proving the rumors wrong.
Blaire’s now booked until next summer. At this rate, she’ll be booked a year out before January.
That ward she did must’ve worked. The same website that quoted Teddy in its smear article now uses him as a punch line.
Unfortunately for him, when the internet picked a side, it wasn’t his.
He was labeled as an obsessive ex without Blaire ever having to lift a finger.
We stop at the shop door, and I give her a sweet kiss for anyone to witness. I reach for the door, but she doesn’t step inside.
“I just decided something,” she says. “I’m taking the day off.”
Two feelings hit me at the same time. One is pure joy because the town witch is choosing me over the biggest day of her year. The second is pure fucking panic because every moving piece of tonight betted on her being at the shop until five.
“But it’s National Witches’ Day,” I say very reasonably, considering. “It’s your Super Bowl.”
“Ivy and Martha are here. Josie has been doing a great job at reading tarot.” She shrugs like she’s not rearranging my entire chessboard. “I have this tingly intuitive feeling in my body that I should spend the day with you. And I’m the boss, so I can do whatever I want.”
Through the shop window, Winter watches from the register. Her eyes move from Blaire to me and land on my face, and I give her the smallest shrug a man can give. She mouths something that’s either good luck or you’re dead.
“You’re right. What is it that you want to do today?” I ask.
Blaire loops her arms around my neck, bells jingling, and thinks about it for exactly two seconds.
“I want a fireplace. A huge cup of hot cocoa with marshmallows.” She kisses me once. “And you. Naked. That’s it. That’s my entire wish list.”
“I love it,” I say, nearly starting to laugh because she has no idea what I have planned. “I can work with this, but first, I think we need provisions.”
We walk to the grocery store since it’s a block away.
Blaire drifts down the candy aisle as I load cocoa and marshmallows into the cart along with everything I plan to cook for her for dinner.
I carry six bags in one hand and walk with my arm around her back to the manor.
After we pack our bags for an overnight stay, we climb into the Mustang and drive to the cabin.
The drive up is full of snow flurries against the windshield. I blast the heat, keeping her hand in mine. On a few of the switchbacks, snow is sticking. Blaire smiles the entire drive, singing along with the radio.
“Home sweet home,” I say, parking in front of the small structure.
Blaire leans her head back on the seat and looks at me.
“What?” I ask.
“I’m happy. I have everything I’ve ever wanted.”
“Yeah, me too.” I nod. “Come on. Let’s get the fire started and the hot cocoa going,” I say as the snow sticks.
When we’re inside, I put all the groceries where they go as Blaire works on starting the fire. Since there isn’t central air or heat, it’s a necessity.
She looks out the window. “Should we have checked the radar?”
“What’s the worst that could happen? We get snowed in?”
“Maybe have to eat ramen for a week?”
“As long as you’re with me, sign me up.”
I pull a pot from inside the cabinet and make cocoa on the stove with milk, making sure not to overheat it. I put a mountain of marshmallows in the bottom of a big cup, then pour the mixture on top. They immediately float.
I deliver the cozy concoction to the couch, where the fire’s crackling. She takes a long sip and comes up with a marshmallow mustache, and I kiss it off her before she can wipe it.
“Fireplace, check,” she says, holding up one finger. “Cocoa, check.” A second finger. Then she takes another dip, then grabs my sweater. “You know what’s next on that list?”
She sets her cocoa on the coffee table and pulls me down onto the couch with her. Wish number three takes the rest of the morning. We only break for lunch.
Snow gathers on the windowsills while we stay warm, wrapped together in blankets.
Firelight and overcast make the room glow.
There’s no clock anywhere, or no reason to even look for one.
Blaire dozes off against my chest with her fingers laced through mine, and I lie there, holding the love of my life in my arms. My eyes grow heavy, and at some point, I fall asleep too.
We wake when the light disappears, and the fire burns down to embers.
“Feed me,” she mumbles into my chest. “Or I might wither away.”
“Oh, can’t fucking have that,” I say. “What kind of boyfriend doesn’t feed his witchy woman?”
“An ex-boyfriend.” She snickers.
We add more wood and cook dinner together. The kitchen is small but big enough for the two of us to work around one another. The meadow is covered in a blanket of white.
We eat spaghetti on mismatched plates by candlelight.
“Admit it,” she says, pointing her fork at me. “My tingly feeling was right. Taking the day off was the right decision.”
“You should always trust your intuition. It’s never wrong.”
“Never.” She steals a meatball off my plate. “I’m glad it’s you. Can’t imagine spending time with anyone else.”
“Keep it that way.”
“Forever.” She grins at me over her glass of Little Black Cat Wine.
When our plates are empty, I send her to the couch and take my time with the dishes. From the kitchen, I watch her settle in after she adds more wood to the fire.
She looks over her shoulder at me. “I miiiiiss you.”
“Miss you more.” I smile, crossing the room toward her.
She’s already scooting over to make room for me next to her, but instead of sitting, I freeze.
“Jamie?” Her eyes meet mine and hold.
We’ve always been able to carry an entire conversation without a word. It happens across crowded rooms. Somewhere inside the silence, the invisible string that’s run from her heart to mine since the moment we met pulls tight and knots itself into forever.
Everything I planned to say is gone.
There’s no line, no game, no smooth version of me left anywhere in this cabin.
There’s just her, right in front of me, smiling sweetly, waiting patiently for me to speak.
So I do what I should’ve done weeks ago and drop down onto one knee.