Page 18 of Spice
He blinks slowly, as if coming out of a stupor. He slowly lifts his hand, closes his eyes briefly, his lips moving, and then he snaps his fingers.
A glowing, floating jack-o’-lantern appears out of thin air, hovering beside us as it flickers gently. He laughs, and it’s the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard in my life. I can feel his stunned joy, radiant like sunshine on my skin.
“It worked,” he chokes out, then lets out another one of those glorious laughs. “Willow, it worked.”
Relief and joy flood my system, and tears slip down my cheeks. But this time, they’re happy tears. Joyous, ecstatic tears.
We move towards each other at the same time, and I throw my arms around his shoulders. We cling to each other, laughter bubbling out of us. He gently wipes my tears away and then crashes his mouth into mine. We laugh through the kiss, even as my tears drip down and I can taste the salt of them.
The bond thrums between us now, peaceful and permanent. It feels like home in a way I’ve never experienced before. He kisses my forehead, my cheeks, my nose, my lips, tears sliding down his cheeks now, too.
“You saved me, Willow. You saved me, and gave me something to live for, all in one fell swoop.” He kisses me again, deeper and hotter, and I realize that we’re floating a few inches off the ground. “I love you. Stay here with me. Be mine. Always.”
I laugh through the fresh tears falling from my eyes. “I love you, Ezra. Forever.” As if there’s any other answer I could give him. “So this means I’m…” We both look down at my stomach. The rest of the runes and sigils from the ritual have vanished without a trace from my skin, but the one signifying life is still on my lower belly, glimmering and golden.
“Yes. You’re pregnant.”
I let out another laugh as an overwhelming rush of love consumes me. Love for Ezra. Love for this life we’ve made. Love for the future we’re going to create together.
We float in a slow circle as we kiss in front of the once again crackling fire, the life we made glowing between us.
Eight
Willow
Halloween - One year later
I step out of The Cauldron and onto the tree lined street, which looks much the same as it did a year ago. The air is crisp, the leaves are falling all around me, and everywhere I look, I see signs of Halloween. I glance up at the sky, taking in the nearly full moon, already visible in the growing dusk. The air smells like cinnamon and bonfires, and the leaves rustle in the breeze.
I can’t help but think back to how I’d been feeling just a year ago—a bit lost, uncertain of my power, jaded about the holiday.
It’s nothing short of amazing how much can change in a year.
“Bye, Willow! Thanks for dropping in. It was so great to see you and the little one,” says Alicia, one of my former fellow baristas, as she steps out of the door behind me. I’d come by about an hour ago to visit and chat with my old co-workers, and the time had flown by.
“Bye, Alicia. I’ll stop by again soon. It was so good to see everyone.” And it was. I mean it.
“We miss you. No one makes a pumpkin spice latte quite like you.”
I laugh and accept the compliment. Thankfully, the only lattes I make now are for my extremely handsome husband. I stopped working at The Cauldron early into my pregnancy, once I gathered the funds (thanks to Ezra) and the courage (also thanks to Ezra, at least in part) to open my own magical supplies shop. I also make and sell magically enchanted candles, give tarot readings, and host monthly coven meetings in my cute and cozy little space, called the Moonlit Market. I’m not scared of my power anymore. I’m not afraid to take risks. I’ve stepped into who I was always supposed to be.
I’ve invited my mom to come by the store, but she hasn’t yet. We had words when I confronted her about my Everwane status. It came to light that the man she’d claimed was my father wasn’t, and things have been tense between us ever since. But, we’re working on it. Slowly. It’ll take time to heal, but I’m confident we can get there.
I glance down at my daughter Briar, who’s snug in the baby carrier I have strapped to my chest. She yawns and shoves a fist in her mouth, clearly ready for a feeding and her crib. I take a careful sip of my pumpkin spice latte, hoping the plain white to-go cup doesn’t spark her interest. But it catches Briar’s attention anyway, and she reaches for it, letting out a squawk of protest when I hold it out of her reach.
“No, baby girl. It’s hot. And I need the caffeine. I have a hot date with your handsome daddy tonight.”
Her fist goes back in her mouth, and I chuckle, tracing the tip of my finger over her cheek. She coos softly and my heart melts just a little more.
The pacifier clipped to the baby carrier levitates into the air in the tiniest, wobbliest burst of magic. Briar leans toward it, herlittle bow-shaped lips open. The magic bursts like a delicate soap bubble, and I can tell she’s about to lose it.
“Here, baby girl,” I say, offering her the pacifier. She gloms onto it greedily. Yep. Definitely dinner time.
As if on cue, a very familiar black Mercedes pulls up to the curb in front of the coffee shop. The engine shuts off and Ezra steps out, wearing his usual all black.
I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the way my heart flips over on itself when I first see him after any time apart. Doesn’t matter if it’s just a few minutes. Every reunion makes my body come alive.
“Hello, gorgeous,” he says, his deep voice washing over me and making me melt in a wholly different way that Briar’s baby sweetness.
