Epilogue
SERENA
Technically, Clove is my cat.
I found him. I fed him. I was the one who took him to the vet after he appeared behind Spellbound last spring looking like he'd lost a fight with every other cat in town. I filed the paperwork with Animal Control to get him licensed.
And when my husband declared, in no uncertain terms, that we were not keeping him, I was the one who overruled him.
Which is why I find it deeply offensive that the little traitor is currently asleep on Welles's chest.
“You know he was supposed to be my cat.”
Welles doesn't look up from the book he's reading. “He doesn't know that.”
“He absolutely knows.”
Clove stretches, extending one paw across Welles's shoulder before settling deeper into his favorite spot.
Welles scratches beneath his chin. The purring intensifies.
Bastard. Both of them.
“You didn't even want him.”
“I didn't say that.”
I turn onto my side. “You said, and I quote, ‘We are not keeping that cat.’”
“He needed medical attention.”
“He needed a home.”
“He had a home.”
I stare at him. “Where?”
Welles finally lowers his book. “Behind the bar.”
“That is not a home.”
“It was sheltered.”
“You bought him a heated cat bed three days later.”
“It was still cold at night.”
“You installed shelves for him in the living room.”
“He likes to climb.”
“You spent forty-five minutes researching cat water fountains.”
“Cats don't drink enough water.”
I narrow my eyes. He stares back.
Clove purrs between us.
“I rest my case.”
Welles's mouth twitches. I still love that almost-smile. Almost as much as I love the real one.
A year ago, I wasn't even sure he knew how. Now I get to see it every day.
Along with a lot of other things.
The ring on his finger. His boots beside mine. His coffee mug permanently occupying the spot next to my favorite one.
His clothes mixed with mine in the closet.
The ridiculously detailed fire evacuation plan he created for the whole house. Valerie had grumbled, but I think she secretly likes that he cares.
My husband.
I still get a little thrill from that word.
We didn't wait long to tie the knot.
Once Welles Hawthorne makes up his mind about something, there isn't much point standing in his way.
He proposed just after Christmas.
We were married in Gran's backyard in May.
And tonight, on Halloween, almost exactly a year after he first walked into my candle shop and accused me of setting the town on fire, we're tucked into bed while the last of the Halloween festivities wind down below us.
Spellbound had its busiest night ever. Valerie is still downstairs finishing up.
Gran, who is back for a visit, spent most of the evening telling customers increasingly outlandish stories about our family's history.
And Welles confiscated a plastic cauldron because someone tried to put a real candle inside it.
Some things never change.
The candle on my dresser flickers softly. Absinthe. Dark cherry wood. Amber. Black honey. Vanilla. Clove.
Our own Clove's ears twitch.
I smile.
The scent takes me back to that first night with Welles every time I light it. But tonight, there's something different about it. Or maybe something different about me.
I've been thinking about this for months. We've been talking about it almost as long.
But sometime today, surrounded by kids in costumes and families wandering through the shop, I realized I'm ready.
Really ready.
“Welles?”
“Hmm?”
I reach across him and close his book. He looks down at it. “I was reading that.”
“I know.”
“Okay.”
I take a breath. “I want to start trying.”
He goes still.
Clove lifts his head, annoyed that his bed has apparently stopped breathing.
Welles looks at me.
“For a baby?”
“No, another cat.”
His eyes narrow.
“Yes, for a baby.”
Now, he sets the book aside. “You're sure?”
I nod.
“I think so.”
“You think so?”
“Well, I don't think anyone can be completely sure about something that big.”
He watches me quietly.
“I know it might not happen right away,” I continue. “Or at all. I'm not pretending we get to decide exactly what happens just because we want it.”
His hand finds mine beneath the blanket. “But I want to try.”
His fingers tighten around mine. “So do I.”
My chest aches. In the best possible way.
“I always thought I'd probably have kids,” I admit. “Then the years kept going by, and eventually I stopped imagining it.”
Welles doesn't interrupt.
“But then you happened.”
His thumb brushes over my wedding ring. “And now when I imagine our life five years from now…” I smile. “There's sometimes a little person in it.”
“Sometimes?”
“Sometimes two.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “Two?”
“Don't panic, Chief.”
“I'm not panicking.”
“You look a little panicked.”
“I'm calculating bedroom space. Val is kind of a hog.”
I laugh.
Of course he is.
“We don't have to figure any of that out tonight.”
“Okay.”
“We just have to decide we're open to whatever happens.”
His expression softens. Whatever happens.
For Welles, those words once meant disaster. Another fire. Another person he couldn't reach in time.
Another thing he couldn't control. Now he brings my hand to his mouth and kisses my knuckles.
“Whatever happens,” he agrees.
Clove chooses that moment to stand, turn in a circle, and settle back down directly between us.
I stare at him.
Welles stares at him.
“This could be a problem,” I say.
“Definitely.”
I scoop up the cat.
Clove protests loudly.
“You have your own bed.”
More protests.
“Your father bought you a very expensive heated one.”
I deposit Clove in his bed. He glares at us.
“I don't appreciate your attitude,” I tell him.
“He gets that from you.”
I turn around. Welles is grinning. “Oh, really?”
“Now.” I climb back onto the bed. “If I remember correctly, Chief Hawthorne, there's a particular activity involved in trying for a baby.”
His gaze drops slowly down my body. Heat replaces amusement. “I've heard something about that.”
“And since we've officially decided to try…” I straddle his hips. His hands immediately settle at my waist. “I suppose we should get started.”
“I suppose we should.”
I kiss him. He kisses me back, his hands sliding around me as I sink against him.
I taste the cider we drank downstairs.
He tastes like Welles. My husband. The man I get to love for as long as life lets me. I deepen the kiss.
Then he stops.
“Wait.”
“What?”
Welles reaches toward the nightstand.
I stare at him.
“You cannot possibly be checking your phone right now.”
“I'm not.”
He gets out of bed.
Nearly naked.
I watch him cross the room.
Then I realize where he's going. “Oh, for fuck's sake.”
He bends toward the dresser. “Welles.”
“We're going to be distracted.”
“Chief Hawthorne, I am actively trying to seduce you.”
“Exactly.”
He blows out the candle. The flame disappears. But the sweet and spicy scent lingers I the air.
I have to laugh.
“What?” he asks.
“You.”
He returns to bed. “What about me?”
“I love you.”
His expression softens instantly. “I love you, too.”
He climbs over me. “And for the record?”
“What?”
“You're very good at seducing me.”
He kisses me again.
I wrap my arms around him and let myself sink into everything I've somehow built over the past year.
A business I love. A sister downstairs who believed in me before I completely believed in myself. A cat who was supposed to be mine.
A man reaching for me in the dark.
And maybe someday, if we're lucky, someone else to love, too.
Maybe it happens. Maybe it doesn't. For once, I don't need to know.
A year ago, I told Welles there was a little magic inside him. Turns out, I was right.
It's here.
Thank you for reading!