Page 33 of The Witch is Back

“Of course you do.” She looked away from the label, forehead creasing. “‘Dig’?”

“Archaeological,” he clarified, choosing to ignore her comment. He felt a nudge and smiled down at Chester. He threw him a piece of sausage. “I help out on digs as an antiquities expert.”

She looked taken aback. “Are you?”

“Sort of. I specialize in occult items.”

Her chin lowered in a nod. “Right.” She hesitated. “And you like these digs?”

“I really do.”

Emma seemed to argue with herself for a minute before asking, “Why?”

Was she that reluctant to get to know him that she had to force it? “I like the comradery between the team. I like the work, sweaty, hard, but when you unearth something that came from a different time...it’s a magic all its own.”

“You work? Wait, no. More important—you sweat?”

His grin was quicksilver, a flash of amusement at her sass. “It’s a late development.”

“I thought you were just...” She trailed off, hunting for words. “...partying.”

“Maybe when you knew me—when I was twenty-one. On a dig site, I’m the guy who starts sawing Zs at ten p.m. This bartender gig will be the latest I’ve stayed up past my bedtime in a while.”

The word bedtime sat uncomfortably between them, draping long arms around both their shoulders.

“Well,” Emma said without apparently having an end to the sentence. Her cell went off and she lurched for it. Whatever the message read had her lips curving upward.

Another pang made his jaw harden. “Boyfriend?” He hadn’t considered that. Hadn’t even asked.

She looked up, startled.

“I didn’t...” He tapped his fingers on his bottle, uncomfortable. “Sorry if this has caused a difficult situation.”

“It’s not that.” But she didn’t explain anything more.

And he supposed he didn’t have a right to it, but again. Secrets.

The pang became harder to keep inside.

An awkward silence descended again and with it, a flutter of anxiety. He needed to do something, to remind her that she wanted to go through with this.

It came to him and he set the paella to simmer, turning to her.

“I almost forgot.”

He snapped his fingers and a cupcake appeared in between them, chocolate with yellow frosting, complete with small birthday candle.

As she stared, he picked up the little cake and touched a finger to the wick. Raising it slowly, he tugged a flame into life. It flickered merrily.

“It won’t be as good as yours, I’m sure, and it’s late, but here.” He held it out. “Your favorite flavor and color. Happy birthday. Again.”

“Bastian...” Her voice was shaken. Wide eyes looked from the cake to him, clearly seeing more than sponge and frosting. “You don’t need to—I don’t want—This is...unnecessary.”

He continued to hold the cake out. “I’m sorry I missed your other birthdays.”

She jerked a shoulder, glancing down at her twisting hands.

“I’d like to make a pledge now that no matter where we are, as your husband, I’ll always come back for your birthday.”

---