Page 72 of The Pumpkin Spice Spell
Not now.
Not when you’re right here.
-Tate
The next morning when I come back from a supply run, I see Tate standing in front of the bookstore with a coffee in one hand and a smug look on his face.
The second thing I see is Cobweb.In his hoodie.Tate’s wearing a dark gray zip-up sweatshirt with one of those built-in pet pockets, the kind you see for women with teacup poodles and no shame. But instead of a yapping dog in rhinestones, he’s got a black kitten nestled inside the pouch like a king in a hammock. And Cobweb looksthrilled.
“I see you’ve fully committed to your new identity,” I say, biting back a laugh.
Tate sips his coffee. “I am but her vessel.”
Cobweb pokes her little head out, blinking at me likesup, peasant.
Tate strokes the kitten’s ears absently. “She screamed at the window for ten straight minutes. I offered her treats, toys, and cat food. But no. She wantedoutside.So, I improvised.”
“You put her in a cat pouch hoodie.”
“Correction.” He grins and holds up a finger. “I made abonding solution.”
At the Harvest Moon Festival, where we're finishing the last minute set up, they’re instant celebrities. Everyone wants to check out Cobweb.Tate struts through the cider booth area like a man with a mission and a sidekick. Cobweb stays tucked against his chest, peeking out at the world like a judgmental baby kangaroo.
A group of retired ladies from the quilting clublose their minds.“Look at that face!”
Junie runs up, wide-eyed. “Can I pet her?!”
“Ask the guardian,” Tate says solemnly, gesturing to the cat like she’s royalty.
Cobweb makes a little chirp and headbutts Junie’s hand like she approves. Ivy wanders over, cider slushie in hand, raises an eyebrow, and deadpans, “I like your emotional support animal.”
Tate shrugs. “She keeps me grounded.”
“She’s wearing your hoodie better than you,” she mutters. “Tragic.”
People keep coming up. Kids squeal. Grown men nod in silent understanding. Rowan insists Cobweb is “channeling harvest magic.” Donna calls her MadamMeows-a-Lotand insists she wants joint custody. I'm pretty sure Junie is working hard to try and convince Remy that she needs a cat to keep her company.
I can’t stop looking at Tate—soft-eyed, hoodie-wearing, kitten-carrying—and thinking:I really might be falling in love with the man who wears a cat.
The entire town feels like it’s been dipped in cider and strung with fairy lights. Everywhere I look, something glows. Lanterns hang from tree branches amid wreaths of dried apples and corn husks, and scarecrows wear flannel button-downs stolen from someone’s laundry line.
The festival is tomorrow, and the final touches are going up fast. Ivy’s directing people as if she’s the queen of autumn logistics.
Junie shrugs and drags the pumpkin back into place. Cobweb trails behind her, little tail flicking with purpose, like she’s the official festival supervisor.
I tug my orange cardigan covered in black bats tighter and try not to melt into a puddle of emotion. Because here’s the truth:I’m happy.Buzzing, warm, cinnamon-sugar-coated happy.And if I'm being brutally honest, it scares the hell out of me.
Because when life has taught you that good things don’t last, that people leave or die, and things fall apart, joy feels like a countdown. A soft, glowing time bomb. And while I know it's not healthy, I'm preparing my heart for that, and I hate that I do it. Like I can't live in the moment and really enjoy life because I'm afraid it will be taken away.
I push the thought away and turn back to the sign I’m hanging by the bookstore steps. It saysWisteria Cove Harvest Moon Festival: Kisses, Cider, and Community.
The “kissing booth” is positioned exactly fifteen feet from my door, and of course, it was Rowan’s idea, but Finn built it. Finn has been a godsend throughout the entire festival planning process.
“We can make a lot of money for Salt & Root,” she’d told me, wielding her staple gun like a weapon. “It’s all for the cause.”
Then she smooched Finn Bennett behind it and lookedsurprisedwhen he kissed her back. I waseven more surprised when neither of them moved away after.Now they are both pretending it didn’t happen, but every time they’re always near each other, I feel like I need popcorn and a front-row seat.
Maybe Tate and I aren't the only new lovebirds in Wisteria Cove this magical season.
