Page 39 of A Witch in Notting Hill

Even if I hated the idea of Oliver thinking I was with someone else. Though for all I knew,hecould be with someone else. What mattered was that I was removing any temptation, which would hopefully reduce the threat of errant magic, and we would be on our way to reversing this spell without causing any other damage in the process.

Easy enough.

Chapter 16

Oliver

Coven & Codex was so peaceful in the mornings, it was easy to remember why I agreed to keep it running after Uncle Arthur passed away.

The shop might not have housed the kind of books I loved, but I was surrounded by books nonetheless, and I would have been a selfish bastard to complain about that. And first thing in the morning, with the pale light streaming through the windows, the silence, the warmth of the fireplace, and the day stretching lazily ahead of me, I couldn’t think of anywhere I’d rather be.

Wednesdays were the slowest days—the “Hours” sign on the front door readWednesdays: Maybe—but I often kept the shop open while I inventoried, caught up on paperwork, and did the other boring administrative tasks that came with the territory of being a shop owner.

It was easy to fulfill special requests, reorganize, clean, and update seasonal displays when I was mostly alone in the shop, and for that reason, I didn’t hate Mondays. A slow start to theweek, just me and the shop and a to-do list with things I was actually able to check off by the end of the day.

This morning, I was rearranging the windows to include a new series by a local author, surrounding the stacks of books with flickering electric tea lights and crystals of varying colors and sizes. I hadn’t the foggiest what any of her books were about , but if I wanted good business, the shop had to look the part.

The series was calledCosmic Collision, and each cover featured a constellation. The author, Agatha Hemlock, was doing a reading here next week, and I’d hoped the display would attract some guests. Her lecture was meant to cover something about unlocking your inner Urania, whatever that meant. Where did these people get this from? Maybe I’d have Wesley cover the floor that night...

I was organizing a selection of crystals in a way that would hopefully catch the light, when I heard a faint tap at the front door. It wasn’t uncommon for tourists to peek in before or after business hours, so at first, I ignored it, hoping they’d read the sign and come back if I decided to open the shop later.

Only when I heard it again, more insistent this time, coupled with a faint call of my name, I realized exactly who it was.

After she’d slammed the door on me last night, I wasn’t sure I’d ever see her again. Not to mention whatever was happening to her face... and her hair? I grew up with a sister, I’d heard all about heat damage, but I’d never seen it actually... smoking. Maybe we’d just interrupted her in the middle of styling it. Or, more likely, I was just tired and seeing things. That must have been all it was.

I left the stones scattered in the windowsill as I climbed out of the display and raced to the front door before she gave up and left. The morning was wet, and she was huddled against the door under the awning, signature hat pulled low and trench coatwrapped tight around her waist. Raindrops sat on her shoulders and her hair, and the way they shimmered under the light of the doorway made her look like a painting. I could have stood there, on the other side of the translucent glass, watching London paint her a million times over. The only thing more tempting than an art study was opening the door and letting her in.

“Willow,” I said, my voice scratchy. This was the first word I’d said all morning. I cleared my throat and started again. “Come in, get out of the rain.” I opened the door wider and gestured for her to step inside, relieved at her grateful smile.

“Sorry I’m here so early,” she said. “I hope it’s okay. I was just trying to avoid the crowds, and I figured it was my turn to apologize for yesterday. For being so abrupt last night. I just needed... I was tired, and embarrassed, and overwhelmed. And I’m sorry.”

See?I knew that was all it was. “Apology accepted,” I said, nodding firmly for emphasis. “Thank you.”

“And I wanted to take you up on your offer,” she said. “If it still stands. For help on the quest.”

It didn’t seem like it was easy for her to say these words, and I wondered if she was someone who had a hard time accepting help. There must have been certain help that came with the territory of being an actor, of course, like managers and security and hair and makeup teams, but those were paid employees. We were strangers. And we knew nothing about her and nothing about this fake magic, and it seemed none of us knew where to begin, so I couldn’t blame her for struggling to get the words out.

“And if you three changed your minds, that’s okay,” she continued. “I understand it’s a big ask, and will require a lot of time and energy, and since you don’t even believe in any of this in the first place—”

“We haven’t changed our minds,” I said. “And I don’t have to believe in it to help you stay safe and check items off the list. We’re in, Willow.”

“Thank god,” she said, and exhaled, like she’d been holding her breath since I left last night. “I was starting to wonder how I was going to do any of this on my own.”

“I’m sure you’d have been just fine,” I said. “But now you’ve not to worry.”

Even as I said the words, I had no idea whether they were true. Didn’t we all have to worry? This whole thing was barmy. I had no idea how she thought we were going to fix a problem that couldn’t have existed in the first place, and Lola and Min were definitely going to get too invested, and I was more than likely to put my foot directly back into my mouth every time we talked about “magic,” which was likely to be most of the time. What the hell were we thinking?

But when she thanked me, when I caught the warmth in her eyes and the pleading written across the lines in her forehead, I remembered exactly what we were thinking. And I feared Lo and Min weren’t the only ones who risked getting attached.

As soon as I remembered this whole thing was about her thinking she was a witch, however, I snapped back into myself. Whenever I needed to keep my distance, I just had to remember I didn’t believe in what appeared to be quite a large piece of her life, and for that reason, among millions of others, we’d never work. Not that I wanted us to work. But sometimes my imagination ran away with me. I was a bookseller. It happened to all of us.

“So, I guess whenever you’re ready to get started...” she was saying when I refocused. “Though I suppose we’re not in a rush, since I’m stuck here until December.”Stuck.I hadn’t expected such a simple word to hurt, but there was an undeniable twinge in my chest. This wasn’t a holiday for her. She wanted to getout of here as quickly as possible: another reminder to keep my imagination in check.

“Right, yeah, of course,” I said. “Maybe we’ll, er, meet Minho and Lola at the pub this weekend and figure out a plan?”

“Perfect,” she said. “Thank you.”

“This is going to be a long journey, Willow,” I said. “You don’t have to thank me every time we make plans. Especially if we’re only meeting at the pub.”