Page 33 of A Love Like Pumpkin Spice
She nods slowly. “Girl, your little rants when he was out of earshot were 100 percent you trying to convince yourself that’s he’s a good guy, trying to reason with yourself that he still loved you.” She takes a deep breath. “Obviously, I can only go off what you told me, and since we barely managed to see each other in person, I never knew when to bring it up. I had an intervention planned for two days after your engagement party, though.”
“You didn’t!” I stare at her in disbelief and slow down.
“Yes, I did. Why did you think I had my freezer stocked with ice cream?”
We’re across the street from Caleb’s now, and she pulls me to a stop, taking both of my hands in hers.
“Not even I saw it coming, Nic.” I try to avoid her eyes and the pity shining in them, but she won’t let me. “You might be embarrassed or feel like a failure for not seeing it, but you’re the one who got manipulated. You were never supposed to realize what was going on. He made sure of that. Cut yourself some slack and don’t let another great opportunity at happiness slip through your fingers because of Jay. He stole enough of your years andyou. Don’t let him steal more. Don’t let him win.”
Fora moment, we stay like this, gazing at each other in the middle of the sidewalk, until she squeezes my hands one more time. Then the emotionally charged moment ends as she drags me with her to the entrance of Caleb’s. A smile washes over her face as soon as she opens the door while I’m still trying to make sense of her words.
She’s not wrong. In fact, she apparently knows me better than I do.
But worry still gnaws at me, more persistent than a tick clinging to my skin.
“What if you’re wrong?” I ask her in a whisper once we find a spot to sit down.
“The world will still turn, the sun will still shine, and the seasons will continue to change.” She reaches over the table and squeezes my hand. “It would suck, but it wouldn’t be the end of the world.” Then her expression turns softer. “We can always give up and become cat ladies. And while that wouldn’t be such a bad thing”—she takes a deep breath—“don’t you want to try one more time? What if this is something great that will slip right through your fingers because you’re too scared to hold on?”
“Maybe you’re right.” I nod. I hate how much sense she’s making, but this whole conversation is like an emotional bomb goingboomright inside my head. I have a lot to think about. For now, I change topics. “Do you think the cat distribution system will pick you soon?”
“I’m counting on your ghost cat, to be honest.”
“Still going on about the ghost cat?” We glance up at Caleb, who appears next to our table, with his notepad in hand and his signature backward cap. Lauren’s lips instantly curl into a sweet smile, and I bite my lip to keep from grinning. She might be extremely invested in me and my potential love story here in Wayward Hollow, but maybe it’s time I nudge her toward her own.
“Get that amusement out of your voice,” I scold him playfully. “Her name is Chaos, and she’s part of the family now.”
He shakes his head, but I can see his cheek dip where he bites the inside of it to keep from smiling. “What can I get you two?”
Chapter 11
Nic
As soon as we enter the antique store, a prickly, cold shiver runs down my spine—a mixture of feeling watched and like the temperature has dropped several degrees.
“Wow,” Lauren whispers next to me, scooting closer. Why does it suddenly feel like we’ve entered a haunted maze? I half expect a fog machine to turn on and horror-clowns or discount Freddy Kruegers to jump out and yell “Boo!”
“What a vibe, right?” I whisper back and take a few steps further in. Every sound in here is muffled, quieter than trying to hear under water, as if we’re suddenly cut off from the world outside. Even though the store has huge windows, barely any light makes it inside.
Furniture and paintings are stacked from the ground up to the surprisingly high ceiling. It’s chaos, beautiful, and borderline cursed. Couches are stacked on tables, tangled chandeliers hang from hooks at eye level as if someone tried to weaponize home decor. Antique tea-sets are displayed in dusty cupboards decorated with the occasional spider web. The scent of lavender and dust clings to the air, and with every step, I feel more like Belle wandering the Beast’s castle—vast, abandoned, but I’m more than ready to bolt.
Either we will find the most beautiful treasures in here … or die, and I’m not sure which one is more likely.
“Hello?” Lauren softly calls out, the sound echoing, practically bouncing from dusty mirror to dusty furniture.
“Ah, finally. There you are, girls.” The two of us startle, a squeal escaping me at the sudden voice. “Come in, come in, you two. I made a pot of tea, just in time. Earl gray, right?”
Lauren and I glance at each other as if she’d guessed our blood type simply from this so far one-sided conversation. We’re both fierce coffee girlies, but if we were damned to a world without coffee, earl gray would be our drink of choice. How did she know that?
“The cards told me you were coming. Oh, come on now, don’t look so surprised.” She waves us in, clearly having expected us. As if pulled by an invisible string, Lauren and I follow her.
I knew there was something about this town. First, I get a cat ghost, and now we’re probably getting Hansel and Gretel’d.
When we step into an adjoining room, the woman is already seated at a table, like this is a prescheduled séance, and we kept her waiting.
The dim lighting in the store hadn’t revealed much of her, but here, under a slightly brighter candle glow, we finally get a clearer view.
Unkempt curls stick out in all directions, glowing a deep, fiery red. She’s wearing a dark green dress with embroidery that could have been hand-stitched by forest elves. When she motions for us to sit down, I notice countless rings adorning her fingers and hear her thick bracelets chiming against each other.
