Chapter Thirty-One
VIOLET
My bed is an icy wasteland in Devlin’s absence, and my heart isn’t fairing much better, the special combo-pack of anxiety, loneliness, fear, and confusion keeping me tossing and turning until the wee hours.
Eventually, after two nights of barely snatching any sleep, I give up and head downstairs in search of the only thing that can soothe me now. The one thing I still have, despite the fact that I’m about to lose it all.
Tea.
It’s still dark outside when I don my favorite mushroom shirt and a pair of well-worn jeans and creep down to the café, the chilly air a reminder of autumn’s last hoorah, the fire nothing but ash.
I sense Devlin’s energy—frenetic, but asleep—and slip past the purple couch without looking at him. I’m still not ready to see him. To deal with everything that happened between us. His confession from the other night. My ensuing freakout.
What any of it even means.
He told me he loved me, but how can I accept that? How can I allow myself to return those feelings when my failure to earn the grant—to get out of my own way and save my life’s dream, my heart’s desire—has doomed him to a mortal life in Wayward Bay? Doomed him to die?
That’s not love. That’s a death sentence.
Sniffing back tears, I turn on the kettle, find a clean teapot, and get to work. It’s either that or lose what’s left of my mind.
Put On Your Big Girl Panties and Get Over Yourself. That’s the name of today’s blend. Black tea, hawthorn berries, dried rose petals, elderflower syrup, and a dash of lavender-infused honey—a blend to help my grieving heart move on.
The kettle whistles.
My phone pings.
My heart clenches—more bad news on the way. That’s all I can think.
With one eye closed, I glance at the stupid screen. Another email.
Goddess, I don’t want to read it. But I’ve already lost the grant. Lost my last shot at saving the café. Stole Devlin from his friends and his home and the life he built, long before I came along and kidnapped him.
At this point, what else have I got to lose?
I tap the icon. Spot the committee’s email address in the sender field.
Take a trembling breath.
And read.
Dear Miss Pepperdine:
* * *
Due to an unfortunate computer error that had nothing to do with me or my staff, you were mistakenly informed that your business THE KETTLES CAULDRON did not qualify for the Keep Wayward Bay Beautiful Small Business Grant Program. The committee would like to rectify that error and inform you that THE KETTLES CAULDRON has been awarded one of this year’s coveted small business grants in the amount of $75,000 USD.
* * *
A member of my staff will be in touch later this week with further instructions on completing the appropriate tax forms and receiving the funds into your designated business bank account via electronic transfer.
* * *
Congratulations, and as always, thanks for doing your part in keeping Wayward Bay Beautiful!
* * *
Regards,
* * *
Brandt Remington III
* * *
President, Remington Capital Group
* * *
Co-Chair, Committee to Keep Wayward Bay Beautiful for Business
I read it three times to be sure.
Then I chug my tea, make another mug, chug that one too, and read it again now that I’m fully under the influence of life-affirming caffeine.
The words are still there, all in the same order, all saying the same thing.
I got it. I got the grant.
Holy hell, I got the freaking grant!
“Devlin!” I race out to the fireplace, heart galloping in my chest, my smile so wide my cheeks hurt. I don’t even care that he’s still sleeping or that I’ve just terrified my poor kitties that I look like a crazy person who just got kicked off the crazy train for being too crazy. “Devlin, get up! Get up!”
“Hmm?” He blinks at me. Smiles. Yawns. Closes his eyes and goes right back to dreamland. Three seconds later, he bolts upright and stares, taking in the full sight of me. Wild hair. Backward shirt. Bouncing on my toes. Laughing.
He rockets to his feet and grabs my arms. “What is it? Did something happen? Are you hurt?”
I shove the phone toward him, everything inside me buzzing from the news. And the caffeine. And the crazy. Complete package right here, folks. “It’s from the committee. Well, Brandt, but on committee business. Read it. Read it!”
I can’t even wait for him to read it. At the first glimpse of his morning smile, I shove the phone in my pocket and pounce on him, uncontainable excitement propelling me into his arms. Devlin doesn’t hesitate—just wraps me in a hug and spins me around, holding me tight enough to set the world back to rights.
“Tell me what we’re celebrating,” he says with a laugh, its rich timbre vibrating through my chest. “Not that you need a reason to throw yourself at me, but it is a bit unexpected. I thought you wanted… space.”
“I thought so too, but I…”
He finally sets me down and looks into my eyes, his gaze searching, hesitant but hopeful, still holding the echo of his confession.
The thing of it is, mushroom… I’ve gone and fallen in love with you anyway…
I suck in a sharp breath as the realization dawns.
Of all the people I could’ve called with this news, of all the open arms that would’ve welcomed me with a congratulatory hug—the aunts, my sisters, Mayor Singh, even Grumpy and Sunshine—I chose this person. These arms. This man whose every touch makes me feel cherished and safe and wholly accepted, even when I thought I was a complete failure who didn’t deserve to be happy. To find love.
In that moment, looking into his soulful eyes, feeling the hope and warmth of his energy, it hits me. Like a jolt of high-octane yerba mate straight to the heart.
I, Violet Pepperdine, empathic tea witch, romance bookworm, spreadsheet queen, grilled-cheese connoisseur, and rule-follower to the end…
Have fallen ass-over-teakettle in love with the Devil.
My heart sputters into an erratic dance, a wild beat I’m certain Devlin can hear, but all I can do is smile. Tears spill down my cheeks.
“It’s all right, love.” He cradles my face, swiping my tears with his thumbs. “You don’t need to tell me if you don’t want to. I don’t need a reason to hold you. I’m just grateful for the opportunity.”
I stretch up on my toes and kiss him, full on. It’s so perfect, so sweet, so electric I almost forgot why I ran out here in the first place.
The news hits me all over again, and I break away and hand over my phone once more, forcing myself to hold still. “It’s from the committee. I got the grant, Devlin. There was a mixup or a glitch… whatever… it doesn’t matter because I got it! I can pay off my rent and most of the debts and hire some help and… Devlin, I don’t have to close! Do you know what this means?”
He brushes the curls from my forehead and grins. “That you’re an amazing, incredibly smart, hyper-capable, downright formidable witch who’s going to take this town by storm again and again and again as she accomplishes everything she’s set out—”
I don’t let him finish. Can’t let him finish. Because I’ve never been so honest-to-goodness happy before. So complete, so hopeful about the future, so full of promise and joy and sunshine and… goddess, all I want to do is celebrate it.
Really, really celebrate it.
With the man I love.
“Devlin?” I loop my arms around his neck and flash my most sinful grin—a grin that wasn’t even in my arsenal until the Devil crossed my path and taught me all the best tricks. “Less talking, more kissing.”