Seth
“She’s too good for you, you know.”
I pause at the mirror near the front door and turn to my mom, my eyes wide. “Are you serious?”
She laughs, like she told a hilarious joke. What she really did was pluck at my insecurities. All I want is for one date with Rowan to go right, and I spent longer planning this one—even though she said I didn’t have to.
“Prove me wrong, then.” There’s a twinkle in her eye, and after so long of seeing Mom sick and exhausted, I can’t be mad. Even when she’s roasting me. If this makes her happy, so be it.
I’m glad the people in my life care about Rowan as much as I do—but of course they do. She’s smart, funny, and caring. What’s not to like?
I roll my eyes and approach her, giving her a big hug. “Laurel is going to be chilling here with you for the weekend, all right?”
“All right, all right. I don’t need the reminders.”
“Nerissa might come too.”
“Good. I like her.”
“Good.” I drag my suitcase to the front door. “Call me if you need anything. I’ll answer.”
“I know you will.”
I hate leaving my mom alone for this long. It’s only a few days, but I would rather be with her just in case something happens. For all I know, I’m still hexed, and there’s no saying it won’t impact the people I love outside of my romantic life—because really, this would be just my luck.
But Rowan needs this. I need this. And more than anything, I trust Laurel and Nerissa to take good care of my mom.
We’ll be back soon.
“This place is beautiful.” Rowan stops to stare at a marble statue outside the spa.
I picked it for her. Peaceful. Overpriced—I’ll be maxing my credit card on the stay—and owned by glamour witches who claim to know a thing or two about relaxation.
That’s what Rowan needs. It isn’t about a date as much as getting her off her phone for the weekend, getting her a good massage and facial…
And whatever else couples do at these things. Because we’re a couple now. I’m part of a couple now. And it’s cool, but it’s terrifying.
Especially with the hex still looming over my head. I want to ask Rowan to check if it’s still there, to do another spell, but every time I bring it up, she turns me down. The hex is broken, she says. We wouldn’t be together otherwise.
It makes sense in theory, but in practice… there are so many small things that have happened. Things that don’t add up.
I roll my suitcase and carry her duffel bag over my shoulder, approaching the front desk. There’s a plus-size witch with pastel pink hair and bright red eyes—contacts, magic, or some kind of demonic being? I can’t tell.
“Good evening,” she chirps, all energy and bubbles. “Do you have a reservation?”
“Uh, yeah, I made one online.” I smile back at her. “Bautista. I got the goddess suite.”
“The goddess… the goddess…” She frowns, clicking away on her computer. “I’m sorry. We tried to call you several times.”
My smile drops.
“Your reservation wasn’t able to go through. There was a problem with your card.”
Of course. My damn card.
“I didn’t receive a call about that.” I look at Rowan from the corner of my eye, and her expression is unmoving.
Nothing affects her, does it?
“Is this your phone number?” She turns the screen so I can see it.
“No. That’s my old number.” I plaster my smile right back on and lean in. “Is the suite still available? I have another card we can try.”
Her smile becomes a grimace. “I’m afraid we’re fully booked for the weekend, but if you’d like…”
The blood rushes to my ears, and I hardly hear the answer she gives. I’m polite as we detangle from the situation and drag our feet back to the car.
This is it. It’s proof that I’m still hexed, and Rowan doesn’t want to be with me. She told me to take care of this. She trusted me to, and I let her down.
“I booked a backup,” Rowan says flatly. “Just in case.”
This is really a fuck up—my fuck up. All I wanted was to put together a weekend for Rowan to forget her stress, but of course, I couldn’t even figure that out without her fixing it.
And she knew I wouldn’t be able to.
I turn to her, frowning. “Are you serious?”
She lifts a shoulder. “I didn’t have to pay to reserve the spot. It was no big deal.”
She didn’t trust me. Maybe despite her avoidance, Rowan knows I’m still hexed. Why would she want to be with me? Frustration—at myself, never at her—bubbles beneath the surface.
I keep it contained, nodding rigidly. “Put the address in my phone.”
And we’re off. Again. I’m carrying bags again, this time into a basic motel with beige walls and the kind of art I could find at a thrift store. No offense to thrift store art, but it’s not exactly what I want for Rowan’s relaxing getaway.
“I wouldn’t trust any massages this place claims to give,” Rowan whispers as we drop our bags on the floor of our little motel. “I swear, it didn’t look this… quaint online.”
Quaint isn’t the word I would use. A queen-size bed. A TV so old that there are probably no apps on it. And a microwave. So much for a romantic getaway.
Rowan sounds amused rather than upset, like this isn’t a sign that we’re doomed. And maybe it’s not. Maybe I’m overthinking everything.
“Why did you reserve this place?” I ask, shaking my head. “We could have done a little better.”
“I didn’t know what your budget is.”
I wrap my arms around her waist. Even if we’re in the worst place in the world, we’re still together—and that’s enough. “And you assume I’m paying?”
She nods solemnly. “You assume I’m paying? I may be a feminist, but I still have standards.”
“You’re trouble.”
“You like it.”
“I do. I’ll pay for whatever you want.”
Her lips tug up at the corners. “I’m joking. I already paid.”
She’s ten steps ahead of me. I try not to let it fester in my stomach—the feeling that my mother is right. Rowan is too good for me. Always has been. Maybe that’s why I took so long realizing what she felt, what she wanted.
“What now?” I ask, my shoulders dropping.
“Now…” She picks up a flyer from next to the TV and waves it around. “We order bad pizza and watch terrible movies. What do you think?”
“I think we could have done that from home.”
“Maybe.” She lifts a shoulder. “But it will be better here. Just the two of us.”
Finally, I smile an actual smile. Even when everything is going wrong, the moments where we’re alone, when it’s simple… it really is like I’ve never been hexed at all.
“Sounds like the perfect plan to me. I actually…” I bend over and open my suitcase, digging through the bags. “I brought you something.”
Her eyes narrow. “Hopefully, oil so you can give me my promised massage.”
“No, but I can get some in a heartbeat. Don’t test me.” I stand up and smile sheepishly, pulling out her knitting. “I may have stolen this from your place.”
Her eyes widen, and she steps closer. “You didn’t. I didn’t even think to pack this.”
“I thought this weekend would give you plenty of time to work on it and… y’know, I know it helps you relax. It’s nothing.”
“It’s everything. Thank you.” She takes the ball of yarn, her fingers brushing against mine. “I’ll work on this, and you go buy that oil. I wasn’t joking about the massage.”
“Deal.”