Chapter 42
Chapter Forty-Two
LILITH
I leave for Carmel the day after Sera's unwelcome visit, tearfully bidding both Jack and Gracie a bittersweet goodbye.
But perfect timing, really. Roman's calendar has been packed lately—juggling resort operations, investor meetings, and those long sessions with his father about the eco-resort chain.
One night at the resort, when I got off work there, I found him in his office, blueprints spread everywhere, his father leaning over his shoulder pointing at something while Roman nodded and smiled.
Twenty-two years of absence, and now they speak a shared language of sustainable materials and energy-efficient designs.
When Roman texted me at midnight—"Still working with Dad.
Miss you."—I hugged my phone to my chest. For a man who once swore he'd never forgive Michael Kensington, those late nights planning together say everything words cannot.
I get to Carmel-by-the-Sea about six hours after I left LA.
My car's engine quiets as I slow to the town's mandated 25 mph.
The village looks like something from another century—cottages without street numbers, shingled roofs at odd angles, streets with names instead of numbers.
Cypress trees twist overhead, and salt air mixes with wood smoke from stone fireplaces.
Ocean Avenue slopes toward the white-sand beach and the Pacific.
The new shop space sits in one of those storybook cottages Carmel is known for.
It has a steep roof of cedar shingles weathered to silver, leaded glass windows that catch the morning light, and curved eaves.
Stone chimneys rise from either end, and a rounded wooden door sits beneath an oak archway.
Cypress trees surround the property, filtering sunlight onto a path lined with lavender and roses.
I can’t help but look around at this new space and think that it’s absolutely perfect for my new shop.
After all, I’ll be opening a New Age shop, a place where you could find everything from spell books to tarot cards to crystals to books about subjects such as chakras, reiki healing, to astrology to channeling spirits.
There’s something about all those subjects that remind me of fairy tales, so how perfect is it to have a shop in a fairy tale house?
I texted Raven on the way up, telling her that I’m anxious to check out the space, and she shows up while I’m admiring the architecture of the special space.
“Lilith,” she says. “When I got your text, I was so surprised. When I last talked to you, I was sure that you would want to stay in Los Angeles. I thought there was a special person down there for you.”
"There is," I say. "But I think my time in his life has run its course." I sigh.
I met Roman when he needed someone to guide him back to his father, to help mend that broken bridge.
Has he completely healed from those old wounds?
No. Some scars might always remain. But his father stands beside him now, and with each passing day, their relationship strengthens.
This resort they're building together—I see it as more than steel and glass.
It's a monument to their reconciliation, even if the final healing takes years.
Roman is becoming someone new before my eyes.
Someone steadier, more at peace. And I know that perhaps it was my entire purpose in meeting him - so that I could help them bridge their divide.
I'd like to think that my midnight prayers to Brigid, the rose quartz I slipped into his pocket, the hours spent cross-legged on my meditation cushion visualizing father and son embracing—that somehow, in some small way, it all helped push them toward each other.
My mind insists I was just the catalyst for this transformation, nothing more. My heart argues differently—whispering that he's the one person I've been searching for my entire life, my other half. The kind of connection I never truly believed existed.
But I need to silence these feelings. His investors would balk at him dating someone like me with my crystals and tarot cards. They'd question his judgment, his stability. And Serafina would ensure every tabloid splashed our relationship across their pages, humiliating him completely.
Worse, Serafina could whisper the magic words "recovering alcoholic" into the right ears. As a respected hotelier with connections throughout the industry, she wielded enough influence to ensure Michael's resort project would be strangled in its cradle before the first investor's check cleared.
Raven sinks onto a jewel-toned floor pillow, patting the one beside her. I hesitate before joining her, my legs folding reluctantly beneath me.
"Your aura," she whispers, her eyes widening. "It's jet black, Lilith. Not your usual pink or green. Something's torn you apart."
My throat tightens. Roman's face blazes through my mind like a lightning strike—that smile that cracks open his granite facade, revealing the raw, beating heart beneath.
When we're together, my entire body hums with recognition, every cell screaming that I've found the other half of my fractured soul, the missing piece I've been searching for across lifetimes.
God, I want him. Need him. But then I see the Bloomberg headlines: "Kensington Hotels Plummet as CEO Dates Self-Proclaimed Witch.
" I imagine his brothers' disappointment, his father's concern.
Maybe I'm being paranoid. Maybe investors wouldn't care.
Maybe I'm just scared of how desperately I love him, how completely he could destroy me. But what if I'm right?
I tell Raven everything—how Roman and his father are staking their entire relationship on this eco-resort, how the project is like some fragile, beating heart between them.
"If it fails," I say, my voice cracking, "Michael will shatter.
He'll crawl back inside a bottle and never come out.
And Roman—God, Roman will never forgive himself.
Never forgive his father. Never forgive me. "
I grip the edge of the table until my knuckles turn white.
"And I'm dying inside, Raven. I found him—my actual soulmate—and now I have to walk away.
These billionaire investors Roman needs?
They'd take one look at me, at my crystals and tarot cards, and they'd laugh him out of the room. If that doesn’t do it, the knowledge of Michael’s alcoholism would.
His father's dream would collapse. Their relationship would implode.
And it would be my fault—all my fault—because I couldn't stay away from a man I had no business loving in the first place. "
Raven exhales, her shoulders dropping. We're both spiritual, just in different ways.
I read tarot; she does Reiki and sound healing with crystal bowls.
Her clients leave with the same peaceful look mine do.
She's booked solid for months. "We should work together," I've suggested more than once.
"My readings followed by your healing—it'd be perfect.
" I'd find what's broken, and she'd fix it.
She cocks her head to one side, her waist-length auburn hair cascading over her shoulder like a waterfall of fire.
Those sea-green eyes narrow slightly as they study me.
"Well, one thing's for sure," she says, her voice melodic but firm.
"Your chakras are completely out of alignment.
Your root chakra is practically screaming.
" She taps a slender finger against her lips, adorned with a simple moonstone ring.
"See me tomorrow morning, first thing, and I'll do something about that mess of energy you're carrying around. "
I force a smile, my lips stretching like an elastic band about to snap. God, when was the last time I actually meant that smile? Before Sera, definitely. Maybe some stones on my back would help.
I've seen clients emerge from chakra sessions looking reborn—eyes bright, shoulders relaxed, as if someone had finally unscrewed a valve letting all that toxic pressure escape.
But who am I kidding? My heart feels like it's wrapped in razor wire.
No amount of sandalwood smoke or crystal vibrations will fix what's breaking inside me. I’ve lost him.
Period. All my new-age remedies are just expensive Band-Aids on a wound that won't stop bleeding.