Page 93 of Love, Magic and Misfortune
“I don’t need someone to make me happy, Jas. I need someone who can sympathize and listen when I complain about toxic masculinity and my period. I need someone who walks through the forest with me in the middle of winter to sketch an old bridge. I need someone who encourages me when I have doubts in myself. It’s not about you making me happy. I can make myself happy. Simone’s lemon meringue makes me happy. It’s about youseeingme—truly accepting who I am and loving me for it. That’s what I need, Jasper, and you give me that. A thousand times over.”
He stared at her in silence for a long moment before finally dropping his hands from his hair. His shoulders slowly rose and fell, eyes downcast. “Then… you have to see everything. All of it.”
“Show me.”
“You’ll change your mind.”
“I won’t.”
Jasper exhaled a heavy sigh. “Not today. I’m not ready.”
“Not today,” Violet confirmed. “I’ll wait.”
He shook his head and closed his eyes, tears running down his cheeks. “I’mterrified, Vi. You have no idea how awful—”
Violet stood and met him in front of the hearth, placing her hands at his waist as she looked up into his eyes. “If you don’t want to show me, you don’t have to. This isyourself-imposed condition.”
“Because I don’t—If you choose me, then I don’t want to hide anything from you. I don’t want to hide this. You need to know what you’re choosing.”
“I’m choosing you. Whatever that entails. Everything.”
The declaration was bold, and Violet stared up into his face, wanting to emphasize her conviction. To make him understand. In truth, she was nervous. Of course she was. Magic being real was still a new concept in her mind—let alone very dark and malevolent magic. She had no idea what she was truly in for, but whatever it was, she would deal with it. She’d push through because on the other side of it was her best friend, sitting isolated and afraid. Violet didn’t want that for him anymore. He’d handled it alone for long enough.
Exhaling, he leaned down, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and hugging her tightly. Violet snaked her arms around his waist, nestling into his lean frame and warmth.
“I feel like I keep crying in front of you,” he said, voice muffled from his face being pressed into her hair. “I guess… I’m the opposite of a ‘manly man.’”
Violet shook her head within his embrace. “That’s stupid. You’re a person and people can cry. And I’ll cry with you. Always.”
* * *
A couple days later,Violet was sitting in the living room, trying to figure out her pricing for portraits, prints and other art requests when someone knocked at the cottage door. She stood, running numbers in her mind as she walked toward the front of the house.
Since Simone had set up her profile, requests for print orders or personal commissions had been pouring in. It amazed her: that people would deeply value something that came naturally to her. Something wonderful that she enjoyed. She wasn’t sure, but it seemed as if she could make a true career from this if she took it more seriously. So she was starting to do just that, and getting her rates in order. She still had so much research to do.
She lifted to her toes and looked out the peephole, then frowned.
“Violet Ainsworth, please open the door,” Freddie called. “I saw a shadow pass over the peephole so I know you’re standing there.”
“Oh my God, what a creep,” Violet mumbled, unlocking the door and reluctantly dragging it open. “What?” she scowled.
“Why are you still mad at me? I thought we were over this? You invited me to the Christmas party and everything.”
“Simoneinvited you. And no, I’m still not thrilled to see you on my doorstep. What is it?”
She hadn’t noticed, but Freddie had been holding one hand behind his back. When he brought it around, he held a little turquoise bag that was synonymous with Le Petit Sweet. “I asked Simone what you like and she—I should say ‘she,’ right?”
“Yes, absolutely.”
“She suggested I bring this for you. It’s a strawberry lemon tart. She’s experimenting. There are two?”
Violet frowned, thinking she needed to have a stern talk with her friend. Without speaking, she pulled the door open and stepped aside.
“Thank you.” Freddie grinned. “I don’t dislike you, Violet. I told you what my problem was, but I just want to move past it.”
“Okay, fine, but I don’t get whyIneed to be involved in this.”
“Because I wanna get to know you.” Freddie moved into the doorway of the kitchen and paused. “Can you show me where the plates are? Maybe we can have tea?”
