Page 59 of Mistletoe & Magic
I breathe in the smell of her hair and the clean cotton. I listen to the steady beat under my palm where my hand rests over her ribcage. I listen to my heartbeat, not galloping, just strong and even.
“Peaceful,” I say. “Hopeful.”
Her breath leaves her in a small sound that might be a laugh or a sob. “Good,” she says. “Because I want to be here. With you. For all of it.”
I have to close my eyes because the ceiling blurs. I pull her closer because words are not big enough for what moves through me.Thank youfeels thin. I give her my mouth instead, and whatever she hears in it makes her fingers clutch at my T-shirt and hold me like she is the one keeping me steady.
Maybe she is.
Chapter 17
Ivy
Donna texted me and asked me to meet her for breakfast, and she picks the place, of course. I don’t mind when she says it’s my sister’s bookstore, because I love going there.
Wisteria Cove smells like salty sea air this morning, and Wisteria Books & Brews smells like cinnamon. The bell chimes over the door as I step inside. The windows are fogged a little from the ovens and the cold winter air. Someone is laughing near the fiction shelves, and an espresso machine hisses in the cafe. I breathe in and out and try to settle my nerves. Breakfast with Donna sounded casual over the phone, but this istheDonna Bennett. A woman whose paperbacks live on half the coffee tables in America. That part doesn’t intimidate me because I’ve known her all my life. But what intimidates me is that this is Remy’s mother. The man I’m falling deeply in love with, along with his daughter. His mother. That matters to me. What she thinks of me matters.
She is already here at a corner table under the bay window, scarf draped like a banner, hair swept up with a pencil stuck through it, sticky notes dotting the cover of a spiral notebook.She waves me over as if we have been doing this for years. Well, we have. Just not with me sleeping in her son’s bed.
“Sunshine,” she says, standing to hug me. She smells of vanilla and fresh paper. “You look beautiful, and you’re glowing and radiant.”
I’ve always loved Donna so much, and she’s called me sunshine for as long as I can remember.
“That is the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me,” I say, laughing, as she pulls me into a second hug just because she can.
Willa pops up from behind the counter holding a tray of scones and wearing a black apron and a smile. “Ivy! Hey! Your usual?”
“Make it fancy. I am trying to impress our favorite author,” I tease, which makes Donna press a hand to her chest and sigh.
Willa leans on the table like we are gossiping at a sleepover. “Two cinnamon rolls, one giant bowl of fruit, and a side of bacon. Coffee for Donna and a maple latte for Ivy. I am the boss, so you cannot argue. I know what you both like by now.”
“Boss of this entire town,” Donna says. “I should have brought you a sash.”
Willa laughs and flits away, calling hello to Tate as he ducks in. Rowan breezes past with a tray of scones for the display and squeezes my shoulder as she goes.
“You okay?” Rowan asks, eyes soft.
“I’m good,” I say, and I realize that I mean it.
“Excellent. I will be back to interrogate you about a certain tree farmer,” she sings, which makes Donna wiggle her eyebrows like she’s jumping in line for this, too.
“I’m nervous,” I admit when we sit. “I shouldn’t be. It’s just breakfast.”
“It is not just breakfast,” Donna says, tapping her notebook. “It is a fresh new start for you as my son’s love interest.”
I groan and laugh. “Donna…”
The laugh shakes something loose in me. I take off my coat and fold it over my chair. Outside, the harbor is a sheet of gray, and gulls cut the sky like paper kites. Inside, the table feels warm under my palms.
“Thank you for inviting me,” I say.
“Thank you for making my son smile again,” she says without missing a beat.
Heat rushes to my cheeks. “I like that smile.” The words come out honest and simple, and Donna’s eyes shine.
“That’s the magic,” she says.
Before I can ask her what she means by that, Willa arrives with plates and plates and more plates, then the maple latte with a foam heart so perfect I hesitate to ruin it. “Eat,” she orders. “And tell me something good.”
