Chapter 9
IX
Celeste: I got word from my friend Lilac, who works behind the bar at the Rose & Wimple, that Veronika is definitely staying there, and she’s not their favourite guest. Apparently, she was irate that the pub doesn’t have a spa attached and demanded Lilac go to her room to give her a massage.
“Ican’t believe I let you talk me into this,” I murmur as I crouch in the bushes underneath the window of Veronika’s room at the Rose & Wimple.
It’ll be worth it, trust me. Just wait there.
Rafe’s back in his cat form, the flame-point on his face and ears aglow in the moonlight.
He trots off across the green and disappears down the alley between my shop and the post office.
A few moments later, he streaks out again, periscope tail swinging jauntily, the world’s largest rat hanging by its tail from his mouth.
“Where did you find that?” I gasp. I don’t like to think there are rats that size hanging out around my shop.
Can’t talk now, I’ve got to concentrate on my calculations. I have a different weight-to-velocity ratio.
Rafe bounces twice on his hind legs, his gaze fixed on the windowsill above my head.
He leaps, landing with a soft thud inside the room.
The rooms at the Rose & Wimple don’t have air conditioning, which means that most people who stay there sleep with their windows open in summer. Including Veronika.
A moment later—
“Arrrrgh!”
“Rrrrrrroowww!” Came Rafe’s indignant reply. “Meeeerrrw!”
What do you mean, you don’t like my gift, Veronika? I wanted to cheer you up since you seem so distressed about someone else’s husband going missing. This is the finest rat I could find, and we know you love the finer things in life.
“Help! Help!”
I think you simply haven’t got a close enough look at your ratty gift. Perhaps if I lay it across your ample bosom—
“Aaaaeeeeee!!!”
Something smashes. The wall shakes behind me as something hits it. Rafe mrrrrps in delight as he chases a screaming Veronika around the room. Lights flicker on. Footsteps clatter from the bar area. I hear a door burst open.
“What’s the trouble, ma’am?” It’s Lilac, the bartender. “You’re waking the whole building.”
“Your blasted cat dropped a rat on my face. I have rat goop in my eeeeeeyee.”
Something warm and soft lands in my lap. Rafe looks up at me with innocent blue eyes. I hug him to my chest as I press my back against the wall and cover my mouth with my hand so Veronika can’t hear me chortling.
“We don’t have a cat, ma’am. And I can’t see any animal in this room.”
“This rat didn’t walk here on its own, did it? How do you suppose it got here?”
“He probably went out the window,” Lilac huffs. “You’re not in London, you know. Wildlife exists. If you leave the window open, we can’t be responsible for what happens.”
“You can’t be responsible? There is a rat in my bed. This is a health violation. I demand to speak to your manager.”
“I am the manager.”
“Fine, then I demand a new bed.”
“There are no other beds available.” The sash slams as someone pulls it down.
I can hear the muffled sounds of Lilac’s calm voice and Veronika’s increasingly feral shriek.
A few moments later, the door to the pub slams open and the woman runs across the green in a flimsy silk negligee.
She yanks open a car door with a shriek, tosses her suitcase into the back, and peels away with a squeal of tyres.
“Thank you for that,” I whisper into Rafe’s fur. “You’re right. That was absolutely worth it.”
The best celebration is always revenge.
He’s not wrong.
Rafe climbs onto my shoulder as I clamber out from the bushes.
I have twigs in my hair and dirt smeared across the arse of my jeans, but I don’t care.
His tail swishes as we race across the green to the shop.
I unlock it and collapse inside, finally letting out the laughter that I’d been holding in.
Rafe shifted into his human form and changed into his clothes.
“I will never forget that shriek for as long as I live.” My cheeks hurt from laughing.
“Aaaaeee!” Rafe does a perfect impression, which sets me up all over again.
I’m still laughing, tears streaming down my face, as I lock up the shop and we walk across the green, his fingers knitted in mine.
There are a couple of people walking past, their faces shadowed by the night, and I worry that maybe they’ll see us, and they’ll say that I’ve moved on awfully fast. That Warrick isn’t even officially gone.
And I don’t care. Because I have moved on.
Because maybe all it takes is your husband being kidnapped or brutally murdered or running away with his assistant to make you realise that you’ve been standing still for years while the world whirls past you, and that it’s time to take a big leap onto that ball of spinning chaos and hope that you can hold on tight enough.
We’re passing that beautiful wisteria bush, and the scent swirls around me, and although my bees are at home sleeping, the ones in my belly are dancing in the moonlight. I stop, letting the magic of this day warm my veins. “Rafe.”
He stops, too. “Are you okay? Do you—”
I stand on tiptoes and kiss him.
His lips are so soft and warm. For a moment, it’s the only place where we’re touching, and the kiss hangs in the air between us, a promise, teetering on the edge between the world we live in and some unknown fey realm of magic and possibility and what ifs, and then his lips open a little, and he tastes, he teases, he bites, and we’re falling into that realm together.
This is what I want.
This is—
Rafe pulls back so sharply that I lose balance and stumble into him. He steadies me, then backs up again.
“We shouldn’t,” he says, gently but firmly.
It’s the loveliest rejection, but it stings.
“Why?” I whisper.
Rafe turns his head away, his gaze on the pub. His shoulders shudder, and a tiny sigh escapes his lips.
“Come on, My Favourite Disaster.” He throws an arm around me. “Let’s get you home.”