Page 107 of The Witch is Back

Uncomfortable, Emma rolled her shoulders. “It’s just a dress.”

Tamsin came forward. “I don’t think a veil,” she said, studying her. “The back dips low, and with that pearl button detail, you want to show that off. A tiara would draw too much attention, so maybe hair up and with a diamond hair clasp.” She nodded to herself, probably making mental notes.

Emma caught sight of her reflection in the mirror. Her chest squeezed.

She looked like a bride.

It was just a dress, she reminded herself, pressing hard against the rapid beat of her heart. It didn’t mean anything. Except that at least she’d feel pretty on her wedding day. She couldn’t ask for more than that. She wouldn’t.

After one last look, she turned away from the mirror.

Emma put the wedding dress and how it had made her feel out of her mind, compartmentalizing as she and Bastian continued their practice for the Exhibition—and as they continued their affair. If you could call sex between an engaged couple an affair.

But she didn’t think of them as engaged. Not really. Engaged meant you had chosen each other. Partner, best friend, lover. The soul that would join seamlessly with the fractures in your own broken one. She and Bastian fit well—anyone could see that—but the fit was loose. Eventually, over time, they would slide away from each other.

Knowing that, she could enjoy him as he did her. No expectations. He made her feel free to be sensible or wild, to try new things or to sit in her PJs on the couch watching reruns of Friends. It was what had led them to be friends before, she thought as she walked up the flight of stairs to her apartment after a dinner at a sushi restaurant Bastian had dragged her to. That easy nature of his that made her feel safe to be, to try. To live.

“Admit you liked it,” he was saying, one hand on her hip as they walked up.

“It was interesting” was as far as she’d go. “I think I’d try the California roll again, but not the wasabi.”

He laughed, tiny lines around his eyes. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen your face go so red.”

“Remember that time you convinced me to join the Mardi Gras parade?” She twisted her head to grin up at him as she put her hand on the doorknob. “You pushed me into the lineup and suddenly I was wearing a cheerleader outfit. My face was definitely redder, then.”

His expression turned cautious.

“What?” She turned the doorknob. “I’m not still mad.”

Chester ran at them like he was in Jurassic Park with a T-Rex chasing him. Behind him, Hallie trotted best she could at a sedate pace. Safe to say, Chester had no clue how to deal with the curious cat that had invaded his home. He wanted to be friends, but always seemed to lose his nerve.

Emma bent to hug him, shooting warm, safe vibes down their bond. “Big baby.”

She pushed to her feet. Bastian was still standing in the doorway, the same expression on his face.

She paused. “Bastian? You okay?”

He shook himself, stepped in, shut the door behind. “Fine. You just... We don’t talk about the past. It threw me off, I guess.”

Emma set her clutch on the breakfast bar. No, the past had been a verboten subject since they’d made up. One of the unspoken conditions that had let them move on. She hadn’t even fully realized that they’d both taken a giant step away from it until now.

But their friendship had meant a lot to her, and it was part of their history.

“You were my friend.” She leaned back against the counter, considering him. “Before I hated you, you were one of my only friends. It meant a lot. It still does.”

“It meant a lot to me, too.” He came forward, stuffing his hands into his jeans pockets. “I know it might not have seemed like it, but I always knew I could talk to you or go to you and you’d be happy to just...listen.”

The words did something to her, punched her chest so her breath evaporated and her lungs strived for air. It put her off-balance. She didn’t like it.

“Then why did you make me do all that crazy stuff?” She aimed a mock-threatening look his way, pushing through, lightening the moment.

His grin flashed. “Because you needed to live a little. And it was always fun watching you.” He frowned, suddenly. “You were mad about the Mardi Gras thing? You looked like you were having the time of your life.”

“Don’t make me say it.” She rolled her eyes, stepped out of her heels. “I wanted you to think I was cool, not a loser who didn’t want to freeze her ass off in skimpy shorts.”

“Ah.” Humor danced in his eyes and the sight was enough to stop her breath. Again. She should probably get that checked. “But you wore them so well. Almost as well as the Jasmine costume I got you to wear for the Perritons’ Halloween party.”

Still sore about that, Emma drilled a finger into his chest. “You told me you would go as Aladdin if I wore that. And then you showed up with your friends as the Three Musketeers.” She’d have cheerfully melted back into the wall when she’d seen him. His friends had jeered until he’d cut them off with a look. Ever her hero.

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