Page 3 of Mistletoe & Magic
“Come here, Cobweb,” I whisper as I stroke her fur and pull her up to my chin and kiss her soft head. “You’re a good baby, aren’t you?”
She meows softly and snuggles into me. “Time to go to the bookstore, Cobweb.”
The front door opens, and Tate comes in. “Hey,” he calls to me as he pulls the door closed behind him and glances around.
“Hi,” I call back, waving with Cobweb’s paw.
In an instant, Cobweb is off of me and over in Tate’s arms. He strokes her fur and murmurs to her. “Where’s Willa?”
“Right here,” she calls as she comes out of the bathroom and goes to him, wrapping him in a hug and kissing him. Those two are endgame and goals.
I grin at them; they’re so cute. Crazy cute. I knew Derek wasn’t for me when I saw how good it was for Tate and Willa. And I want what they have someday.
Someday.
“What are you guys doing here?” he asks me, still holding Willa.
“Today’s Ivy’s first day as Junie’s nanny,” Willa says as she grabs the cat carrier and loads up Cobweb. “I’ve got to get to the bookstore. Mom’s watching things for me, and she’s probably rearranging everything as we speak. Can you take Ivy up to the house with you on the side by side?”
“He hired a nanny?” he asks, giving me a confused look.
“Ummm…well, yeah. What do you mean?” I ask nervously, feeling my emotions roll over me.
Tate shrugs, “I didn’t realize he hired someone. Actually, you know what, this is great. He’s been having to miss a lot of work, and he’s been really stressed out lately. This will be a big help to him.”
I shrug. “Donna said it was okay, and I assumed?—.”
It’s about that time that I realize that Donna probably set us up. I should’ve known. Great.
Heat crawls up my neck. My smile feels pasted-on, and I picture Remy walking in and finding me here, uninvited, like a stray cat who wandered into his kitchen. The old worry flares fast.
You do too much.
You’re in the way.
You read the room wrong.
I think of my suitcase by the door, how easy it would be to zip it, mumble an apology, and disappear before anyone has to say it out loud. I can already hear the story I will tell myself in the car.No harm done. You tried. It was a misunderstanding.Only it wouldn’t feel like a misunderstanding. It would feel like proof.
I try to breathe. The house feels warm and safe, and for a second, I let myself want it. I want to belong here. Then doubt slides in again, quiet and sharp. If he didn’t sayyes, if he didn’t say he wanted me here, then I’m trespassing on the softest parts of his life.
I glance toward the doorway, half expecting Remy to appear with that guarded look he wears. My chest tightens. I could make a joke. I could spin this into something breezy and charming. That is the old reflex. Smile. Minimize. Make yourself smaller so no one can hurt you when their jabs land.
I straighten instead. If I’m going to be here, it has to bebecause he wants me here. Not because his mother nudged the chess pieces around and called it fate. The thought steadies me. I can ask him. I can risk the answer. My heart knocks against my ribs like it’s trying to get out, but I lift my chin anyway.
Please let him want me here.And if he doesn’t, let me be brave enough to hear it.
Chapter 2
Ivy
Tate drops me at the end of the drive with a quick squeeze to my shoulder. The taillights fade, and the quiet of the Bennett Tree Farm settles around me. It smells like pine and cold and the faint sweetness of sap. Gravel crunches under my boots as I follow the path toward the house.
Remy’s place sits back from the lot, sturdy and square, the kind of farmhouse that looks like it has weathered a hundred winters and plans to meet a hundred more. There is a stack of split logs under the eave, neat as a picture. A child’s pair of glittery purple mittens is clipped to the railing with a clothespin, forgotten and waiting. My chest warms at the sight.
I slow on the last step and just stand there, taking it in. The windows glow honey-gold. Somewhere out by the trees, a saw hums and then stops. Wind moves through the rows and the whole farm stirs. I search for signs of chaos or company. No extra cars. No boots scattered on the mat. No music. Only quiet and light.
My breath fogs the air. I rub my palms against my jeans nervously. Donna said it was fine. Maybe she meantwell. Maybe she nudged me right where I am supposed to be. Or maybe I am about to knock and regret this.
