Page 17 of A Witch in Notting Hill

“Tomorrow,” I confessed. “She’s trying to spend as little time in the city as possible, I guess so that she can get back to her gran or her movies or whatever, and Wesley has been asking for more hours, so he can hold down the shop for the afternoon.” I typically hated leaving the shop during business hours, but even I had to admit, Wesley was getting good. And I wasn’t exactlyinterested in working overtime to help Willow, so this would have to suffice.

“Where are you going?” Lola asked. “My boss is out of the office tomorrow, so I can sneak away to give you a hand.”

“What help would I need from you?” I laughed. “Last I checked she wasn’t designing a video game or listening to Gracie Abrams or making sourdough, so—”

“Rude,” she said, swatting my arm.

“You just want to meet her.”

“Obviously.”

“If Lola gets to go then I get to go,” Minho said.

“This isn’t a group activity. So unless either of you have become an expert in occult books and reversal spells for fake magic overnight, I don’t want to hear it. She’s supposed to be hiding from fans, remember?”

“We aren’tfans, Oliver. We’re yourfriends.”

“At least promise if you do anything really exciting we’ll get to come along.”

“I’m not sure what could possibly be exciting about looking for an old book, but sure. If suddenly this becomes a proper treasure hunt, I’ll be sure to extend the invite.”

Chapter 9

Willow

We’d agreed to meet on the South Bank in the morning, as the outdoor book market was coming to life. And once again, Vera and I wordlessly decided she’d stay in the hotel room. She didn’t seem to love the Tube, and it was a nice day by London standards, so I figured she’d rather spend it lounging by the open window and watching the city than stuck in the carrier on public transport. I hoped I was right.

I got a Vietnamese coffee from a street vendor and walked the length of the river while I waited for Oliver, contemplating any other way out of this mess. The book I’d brought home last night seemed to have what I needed to hopefully grant Vera the power to speak, but I was lacking the confidence necessary to cast a spell, and we all knew what happened when someone cast a spell without conviction. (See: literally any witchcraft movie where any spell backfires.) With my luck, I’d cast the spell and suddenly neither of us would be able to speak.

But since I couldn’t leave her hanging, I’d have to find the confidence somewhere.

I stared at the river, watching it cut its centuries-old path through the city, murky and unforgiving and still somehow oddly peaceful, if I didn’t think too hard about it. I tracked it under the London Eye and past Big Ben, watching it wend its way around landmarks it wasn’t impressed or intimidated by. Landmarks that reminded me I was alone in the city, six thousand miles from home, solving a major problem with only the help of a man I’d met three days ago who didn’t believe in magic.

I’d hoped the realization might give me the confidence I needed, might make me feel like an empowered woman on a mission, but instead it only made me feel more alone. And while I knew there was a solution to this feeling, it came at a price. One of endless mockery andI told you sos and the kind of teasing only family was capable of.

I was going to call my sister.

I hadn’t done more than shoot my mom and my sister a quick text telling them I was headed to London for “work stuff,” so calling Ivy would mean I’d have to tell the whole story, from the beginning. Fortunately, my mom was on some women’s spiritual retreat in Banff all summer, so she was mostly unreachable. One fewer explanation of my stupidity. And one fewer burden on my family.

Even before I dialed, I was already trying to figure out how to spin it in a way that wouldn’t make Ivy look like the Good Witch and me look like... well... Even the Wicked Witch was way better at magic.

It was 10:00 a.m. in London, which meant it was 5:00 a.m. in New York, which meant Ivy was on her way to the gym before she put in another twelve-hour day doing whatever portfolio strategists did all day. Perfect. I’d catch her on the walk to her workout class, so we wouldn’t have more than a few minutes to talk. That way, she couldn’t ask questions. She couldn’t besecretly annoyed or disappointed in me. She could just skip to the support part, and we could all get on with the day.

She answered on the second ring, and hearing her voice brought an unexpected lump to my throat.

“Morning, Wills.”

“Hey.”

“Everything okay? You sound weird.”

“How do you know I sound weird? All I said was ‘hey.’”

“Yeah, and it sounded weird.”Sisters.Especially the witchy ones. They knew everything.

“I am weird,” I moaned eventually. “I’m going to tell you what I’m really doing in London, but you can’t freak out. I’m only calling for sisterly support, not unsolicited advice or reminders that I’m the black sheep of the family or anything, okay?”

“You’re freaking me out. It’s too early in the morning for me to be freaked out.”