Page 106 of Love Spells: And Other Non-Refundable Magic

I think about her gold earrings. The coffee she orders. The way she talks faster when she’s embarrassed, as though enough words might get her safely to the other side of whatever she’s feeling. The way she reaches for something when she’s nervous—a glass, the edge of a table, my hand.

I know more than I remember ever deciding to learn.

Maybe that’s the part I leave out when I tell people that magic is attention.

You notice something once. Then again.

And eventually, without realizing when it happened, you start looking for it.

My phone lights up beside the laptop.

Merry

Update: I have secured the hostage

Your earring is safe

I assume you’ll need to retrieve it personally

I stare at the message, then I laugh.

Flora

I assume so.

I’m still smiling when another notification appears on my laptop. I look at it for a moment, wondering what else Primavera has to say.

Then my phone lights up in my hand, and I leave the Whisp notification unopened.

CHAPTER 29

MERRYWEATHER

The earring is sitting on my kitchen counter when Flora knocks on the door.

I put it there specifically so I wouldn’t forget it, which means I’ve spent the last twenty minutes walking past it pretending I didn’t invite a woman over with the excuse of retrieving an object small enough to fit in an envelope.

I could have brought it to The Spindle.

We could have waited until the next time we saw each other in a more formal capacity.

I could have put it in the mail, although that would have been deeply stupid considering she lives close enough to walk here.

Instead, at six forty-three on a Tuesday evening, Flora is standing on my front porch.

“Hi.”

She has changed since work, or at least I assume she has, because she’s wearing jeans and a soft-looking dark green sweater instead of the all-black outfit I’ve seen her wear behind the counter. Her hair is loose, and the sight of her standing beneath my porch light does something warm and immediate to the center of my chest.

“Hello.”

“You came for your earring,” I say, and I sound like an idiot and robotic, and I want to slap myself across the face because how is it possible that at my age I’m this awkward still.

“I did,” she replies, lifting one shoulder casually. The corner of her mouth tips up ever so slightly, and I can see the amusement in her eyes.

“Yes. I have it.”

“That’s good. Thank you.”