Page 91 of Enchanted to Meet You

Derrick shook his head. He didn’t like the sound—or look—of any of this. The Hopkins woman was gone, too, he noted. It was only his jackass brother on the stage, still droning on about pre–Revolutionary War West Harbor. The gasbag had never been able to resist an opportunity to listen to his own voice over a microphone.

“I’ll be right back,” Derrick whispered to Esther, whose only response was a long, bored suck through the straw of her cranberry juice.

Exiting the dining room, he nearly collided with Rosalie Hopkins, who was coming back in.

“Pardon me,” she said, giving him a hefty dose of side eye.

He held the door open for her. “No, pardon me, ma’am.”

She sailed past him with a self-satisfied little smirk. Derrick couldn’t help thinking what a good pair she and Bart would make. Too bad she was already married.

Back out in the bar, the jazz trio were nearly packed up.

“Hey,” Derrick said. “Did you see a woman in a blue dress with dark curly hair—”

“And the face of an angel?” the drummer said. “Yeah, she was looking for you. She was in there with the blonde who just came through.” He pointed toward the door to the ladies’ room. “Blonde came out, brunette is still in there.”

Derrick grinned, then reached into his pocket for his wallet. “Thanks, guys. Have a good night,” he said as he slipped a hundred-dollar bill into the tip jar the drummer was holding. They wouldn’t be able to tell it was a hundred until one of them unfolded it. Derrick was always careful to crease his tip bills nine times, so the recipient would receive good fortune.

But even without knowing this, the musicians beamed in appreciation.

“Thanks, man,” they said, and left with all of their equipment.

“Drink?” the bartender asked Derrick when he settled onto a barstool, his gaze locked on the door to the ladies’ room.

“Club soda would be great, thanks,” Derrick replied. He needed to keep his head clear for what he knew was about to occur...

And then it did.

The door to the women’s restroom swung open, and Jessica slowly emerged, looking shell-shocked—though whether it was from what she’d heard in the dining room moments before, or just now, from Rosalie, he had no way of knowing.

“Jessica.” He rose from the stool, the drink that had only just been placed on a coaster near him completely forgotten. “I—I can explain.”

Her gaze rose from the floor to center on his face, and his gut immediately twisted from the pain and betrayal he saw in those twin dark pools.

“You canexplain?” Her voice was rough with sarcasm—and possibly even some unshed tears. “Oh, really? Just how can youexplainthe fact that you’ve been lying to me this whole time, Derrick?”

The bartender, who’d been standing behind him polishing glasses, took that as his cue to beat a hasty retreat for the kitchen, and then the two of them were alone... except for the hundred or so people Derrick could hear laughing in the dining room next door.

“Look,” he said, taking a step toward her, his hand outstretched.

But to his utter heartbreak and horror, she retreated from him, shrinking against the wall as if she were afraid of him—of his touch.

He knew she had a right to be.

“Jessica, I never lied,” he said. “I just couldn’t tell you the truth.”

“What truth?” Her dark eyes flashed. “The truth that your own brother founded the most exclusionary and screwed-up organization for witches that’s ever existed? You meanthattruth?”

He dropped his hand. This was going to be much more difficult than he’d thought.

And that was the problem, really. He hadn’t thought. Not with his head.

“Okay. Yes, you’re right. But I didn’t tell you that because I knew how you felt about the WCW. And also because the truth is so outrageous, I never thought you’d believe me.”

“Uh, the fact that I’m theChosen Oneis more believable than whatever else you’re hiding?”

“No. I mean yes.” He couldn’t stand the pain in her voice. He wanted to walk over and put his arms around her and sweep her back in time, back to this morning and the warm coziness of her cottage, of her bed, where the rain pattered against the roof and the outside world couldn’t intrude and it was just them and Pye and her endless supply of leftovers and miniature chocolate bars and coffee.