Chapter Thirty-One
CHARLIE
“You just have to pretend like we broke in. We’re not actually committing a felony,” I said, leaning against the bar, staring down two of the most unimpressed women in Chatham County.
Sutton raised an eyebrow as she popped open a bottle of red wine and poured herself a glass. “You sound like a man who’s about to get himself arrested trying to impress a girl.”
Magnolia stood behind the bar, casually flipping through her phone like this conversation wasn’t even worth her full attention. “But you have a key,” she said flatly.
“He knows he has a key, Magnolia. That’s not the point,” Sutton chimed in, chin propped in her hand, already halfway to plotting. “This isn’t about logistics. It’s about romance.”
“It’s not about anything,” I said quickly. “She’s waiting outside with the dog, and I figured, you know, make it fun. Something different.”
“Something borderline criminal,” Magnolia muttered.
“She’s got this whole séance thing she wants to do,” I said, ignoring the way my voice dropped when I mentioned her. “Ghosts and energy and all that stuff she was into in New York.”
“And you, big bad skeptic, are willingly playing along?” Sutton leaned back, narrowed her eyes. “She must really have you spun out.”
I cleared my throat and looked at the wall.
“She doesn’t have a boyfriend, by the way,” I added casually, though it landed with all the grace of a cymbal crash in a library.
Sutton’s face lit up. “Oh? And how do you know that tidbit, huh?”
“She said so. This morning.”
Magnolia didn’t even look up from the glass of wine Sutton had handed her. “Sounds like she has one now.”
I pushed off the bar. “All right, I’m leaving. Can you two just, I don’t know, go upstairs and make your giant pitchers of margaritas while you pretend not to stalk people on Instagram and watch bad reality TV.”
Sutton grinned and raised her glass in mock salute. “Tell her hi from us. And good luck summoning spirits and pretending you’re not completely smitten.”
“Try and have fun, Charlie. Don’t ruin her night by being… yourself,” Magnolia called after me.
I stepped out the front door and made my way around the block and into the alley, and there she was—holding the leash, Nancy Reagan circling her ankles in distracted, wiry loops. Her cheeks were flushed from the cold or the anticipation or both, and the second she saw me, she grinned.
“Did you get approval from the board?” she asked, nodding toward the building.
“What do you mean, I was just making sure the place was empty,” I said, hiding the keys in my back pocket. “Do you want spooky or subtle?”
“Oh, spooky, obviously.”
I unlocked the service door, pretending like I was jimmying it open, and held it open for her.
She stopped in the doorway, lifted her chin. “Look who’s casually doing a B she stayed there, focused, her fingers tightening slightly as if to remind me she was still with me.
And I sat there, pretending I wasn’t already falling headfirst into a place I had no map to navigate and no tools to help me climb out of it.
She closed her eyes. “Oh great spirits, we call upon you tonight with open hearts and open minds—”