Chapter 20 Alex
Alex
The sun hasn’t risen yet, but I’ve given up on sleep. My eyes sting, raw from a night of silent tears. I furiously shove the last of my clothes into my suitcase. My dry cleaner will never forgive me for the damage I’m causing them, but I can’t help it.
My phone buzzes for what feels like the hundredth time—Tish again.
I can’t bring myself to answer. Of course, now the cell service decides to work.
Magnolia Cove kept me off the grid when I wanted connection, and now that I want silence, it delivers full bars.
One word of pity from Tish, one mumbled ‘Oh, honey,’ and I know I’ll crumble.
Sending her a text at all was impulsive.
Like every decision I’ve made since arriving in Magnolia Cove.
God, I’m such a fool.
How did I let this happen?
Part of a summer in a picture-perfect town, and suddenly I’m nursing a broken heart like some lovesick teenager?
I’ve spent years building walls, protecting myself from this kind of pain.
From this kind of emotional compromise. And for what?
To let my life come crashing down over a small-town baker with secrets in his eyes and magic in his hands?
Magic. The word sticks in my throat, bitter and mocking.
My article on the Whisk is overdue, and I don’t know how I’m going to write it.
Part of me—the part that’s all jagged edges and hurt—wants to tear Ethan’s bakery apart.
Because despite everything he said, I know he loves that place.
You can’t fake the way his eyes light up when he talks about a new recipe, the gentleness in his hands as he kneads dough, his patience with Jas.
Then there’s another part. The part that wants to write something so bland, so utterly forgettable, that Vivian will relegate it to the back pages of the magazine.
She’ll be furious. There goes my promotion.
There goes everything I’ve worked for, all because of some man who would rather lie to me than trust me.
Because everything Ethan said to me on the cliff was a lie.
A knock at the door startles me from my spiral. I glimpse myself in the mirror—puffy eyes, tangled hair, yesterday’s clothes rumpled from a sleepless night—and I consider not answering. Another knock sounds, and with a sigh, I rise and open the door a crack.
Zoe stands on the other side, her dyed hair braided into a pompadour. She shoves her hands into a maroon leather jacket. “Hey, City Girl, mind if I come in?”
I step aside wordlessly, letting her enter.
She slings her backpack onto the overstuffed chair in the corner, then walks around the room, closes all the blinds, and pulls the curtains tight.
I cross my arms as she peeks through the last set of blinds before closing that window and leaving the entire room in the dim glow of a single lamplight.
“I have something to show you.” She walks over to her bag. “Can’t get caught, though. Would hate to end up on restriction. Mia wants to see the Grand Canyon next year, you know what I mean?”
I drop into the boudoir chair. “I have absolutely no idea what you mean, and you must know that.”
She grins at me, then meets my eyes, her expression dropping into a frown. From the backpack, she pulls a bakery box from the Whisk. She grabs a chair, swings it around backward, straddles it, and then opens the box between us.
The air fills with the scents of the bakery, of Ethan. Spicy, rich cinnamon and boldly sweet vanilla. Zoe pulls a red velvet cookie out and offers it to me. “Taste this.”
I don’t know what she’s trying to tell me, but I’ve had no ice cream to nurse my broken heart with, and a cookie will do just fine.
The bite I take isn’t a food-editor-saving-her-palette-sized bite, but a third of the cookie.
It’s soft and cakey, the sweetness perfectly balanced with a subtle depth and hints of rich cocoa.
Ribbons of luscious cream cheese burst across my tongue with the first bite.
I take a shaky breath after swallowing and swipe a tear away.
“It’s delicious. It tastes like one of Ethan’s recipes. ”
Zoe gives a sharp nod, then looks over her shoulder, as if locking the room down wasn’t enough. When she turns back, she raises her hand over the cookie. A shimmer appears beneath her fingers, pale gold and undulating.
My hands tremble, and I fumble to keep from dropping the cookie. “What did you just do?”
“You know what I did.” She’s as serious as a delayed flight in a country closing its borders. “Taste it now.”
I lift the cookie and smell it. It looks the same—a perfect treat from Ethan Hart’s kitchen. I bring it to my lips and pause for a second before taking another more modest bite.
The flavor remains—it’s still luscious and pillowy with perfect crisp edges and a dynamic, balanced flavor.
But it’s also changed. My shoulders relax, my breath comes easier.
It tastes like kicking heels off after a long day.
Like snuggling down into your favorite blanket and putting on a comfort show.
I gasp and look up at Zoe again. “How?”
She grips the chair’s back so tightly her knuckles turn white and rocks it slightly off its feet.
“Seriously? That’s the question? Here Ethan and I have been running around like caffeine-addicted squirrels in a coffee bean factory trying to hide this from you, and now that it’s handed to you on a silver platter, you don’t know the answer? ”
The remainder of the cookie shakes in my grip. I release two heaving breaths before I find the word. “Magic.”
I look at Zoe, squinting as though I can see the magic. She’s the same colorful, purple-haired woman I met earlier in the summer, though. No glittery light or moonbeams or whatever should be there.
“So that’s the big secret Magnolia Cove is hiding?”
Zoe nods, her usual mischievous smile replaced by something more solemn. “We’ve protected our world for a long time. Not telling non-magical humans is kind of our number-one rule.”
“Then why are you choosing to tell me?”
Her eyes meet mine, steady and sure. “Because I trust you. And I can’t have you leaving here with a head full of lies.”
The words hit me like a punch to the gut. Trust. The very thing Ethan couldn’t give me.
“And Ethan can do magic too?” I ask, barely above a whisper.
Zoe grins, a spark of her usual self returning.
The lights in the room brighten, and the sweet, vanilla smell of golden cookies fills the air.
It’s like now that I’ve seen a bit of magic, she thinks I’m ready to watch dishes come to life and start singing and dancing as they prepare me dinner.
I’m not. I’m barely able to breathe, and I haven’t lowered the hand holding the cookie.
It’s just frozen there, and I’m gripping the treat so hard crumbs dust the floor.
“Ethan can do a lot more than me. He’s a rare one, even for those of us around here. Was born with more magic. Most of us can just polish things up a bit, enhance flavors, that kind of thing.”
It all makes sense now. The too-perfect town, the way the food here always tastes a little better, a little more comforting. I know, with a certainty that surprises me, that I would never betray their secret. Zoe was right to trust me.
But someone crucial didn’t.
Zoe must read my expression because she straightens. “Whatever the hell he told you, it was meant to scare you off. It wasn’t true, Alex.”
A sad smile tugs at my lips. “That makes sense. The problem isn’t even the magic, really. I get having people you need to protect. The problem is that you trusted me, but Ethan didn’t.”
Zoe’s shoulders slump, and the speed of her speech increases. “Ethan has more magic than most of us, and more riding on his actions. It’s not my place to say what, but he’s forbidden to share.”
“And you’re not forbidden to share?” I ask.
Zoe’s face falls. It doesn’t suit her—the down-turned lips and flared nose. Finally, she sighs. “I am as well.”
I want to hug her but also cry. “Thanks, Zoe. It means a lot, and I swear it, your secret is safe with me. But… you understand why I have to leave, don’t you?”
Her eyes glimmer, and I’m not sure what I’ll do if she cries. She nods. “I couldn’t convince you to stay if I baked you a lifetime supply of those Hopeful Tarts, could I?”
I laugh, but it comes out more like a sob.
“No, I’m afraid not.” I wonder how much the magic has tugged on my emotions.
If the Hopeful Tart’s magic made me put my cynicism aside and see the future in a new light.
But that’s not real life. I’m not the person who gets a happily ever after.
I’m the one who orchestrated them for others.
“My sister needs me, and I’m not”—I hold the cookie up—“magical. This isn’t my world, Zoe. ”
I stand. I have so much to think about and process.
But if this proves anything to me, it’s that Ethan and I never were meant to be together.
I’d already thought we had insurmountable differences.
Him having magic? That just turned them into the Pacific Ocean between us.
We had a sweet moment together, one that gave me hope, even without magic involved.
But vacation is over. It’s time to catch a plane and return home.
Zoe eases off the chair. “He cares about you, Alex.”
“And I care about him. A lot.” So much that I know I’ll never write a piece destroying the bakery he’s built from the heart.
Even if it costs me the raise I desperately need.
Maybe I’ll see if I can get a few of Jas’s Courage Cupcakes before I go because I’m going to need them.
“But we can’t make this work. Ethan knows it too, or he’d be here. ”
Zoe’s face crumples, but she pulls me into a fierce hug. She smells like old books and caramel, and I somehow know magic isn’t enhancing any of it. It’s just Zoe. “You’re always welcome back in Magnolia Cove, City Girl. Always.”
As I pull away, I can feel the tears threatening again. “I’m going to miss you.”
“I’ll miss you too. Though not as much as someone else will miss you.”
“He should have told me that.”
She sighs but pulls me into another hug. “Yeah, he should have.”
Hours later, after the ferry, a taxi, and making it through the perils of TSA, I’m on a plane, twinkling lights of cities passing below me. Silent tears track down my cheeks, but I don’t wipe them away.
For once in my life, I’d found magic. Real, honest-to-god magic. But it wasn’t mine to keep. It never was. I was foolish to believe I could reach for more, that I deserved more than the life I’d carved out for myself.
I have to go home. Salvage my job. Pay for Missy’s tuition. Focus on her happiness. That’s what I’m good at—taking care of others, making sure others live their dreams.
Even if it means sacrificing my own.
As the plane carries me farther from Magnolia Cove, I close my eyes.
In my hand, I’m clutching a Whimsical Whisk cookie bag.
The gold logo has a whirling whisk surrounded by glitter.
If I squeeze it tight enough, I swear I can feel magic humming against my skin.
A reminder that, for a brief, shining moment, I touched something extraordinary.
And maybe, just maybe, a tiny part of that magic will stay with me.