Page 79 of Witch Please

The new bits and pieces Maya had ordered from some online outlet were downstairs, still in cardboard boxes and plastic packing. He didn’t have any clear idea how it would all look when they were done, but hopefully his sister had a master plan. He grabbed his roller and sighed. Since they were covering lavender walls, they had to do a layer of primer first, let it dry before they could proceed with the main event.

“You should have gotten a sprayer,” Trevor said.

Maya scowled at him. “That wastes so much paint. And it gets everywhere. Rollers are slower, but it’s less of a mess overall.”

His friend lifted his roll of masking tape in a mock salute. “Yes, ma’am.” He turned to Titus as he finished up the windowsill. “You’re paying me for this, right? Not just in pizza and beer.”

“Of course. Twenty bucks an hour plus pizza and beer.”

That was cheap as hell compared to a professional painter, but Trevor didn’t qualify for top rates either. He didn’t seem to mind, as this was a hundred bucks, guaranteed, and probably more. It wasn’t like Trev had anything better to do.

Once Titus got into the groove, it was fun redoing Maya’s old room.

They watched a couple of movies while waiting for the primer to dry and with three of them working, it only took a couple of hours to get the actual paint on the walls. Around the ceiling and edges first with brushes then the rollers. Titus could hear his mother’s voice telling him the proper way to do this. How would she feel about Lucy moving into their family home? Since she had been a genuinely kind person, she’d probably be okay with it.

Before leaving the room, they opened the windows, and Titus threw together a few pizzas from dough he’d frozen after he’d made the big batch on poker night. They kicked back, joking around during a buddy comedy that Trevor picked. Doris knocked over a can of beer and roughhoused with everyone and then sprawled on top of Titus, finally dragging a real smile out of him.

I have good people in my life. I’ll be okay.

He should get to sleep, but Maya wanted to finish the room, so against his better judgment, he enlisted Trev to help him move the furniture back in, and then she added all the little touches—a cushioned footstool and fuzzy white pillows, an area rug in all the colors of the sea, glittery mirrored boxes to set on the dresser. It was all stuff he’d never have thought of, but when everything came together, the room looked beautiful. Maya had ordered new linens too, patterned in white and teal. Altogether, the space was bright and feminine, a little glam, and a lot cool.

“Looks great,” Titus said sincerely.

Maya yawned and arched her back. “Finally. Remind me never to do this all in one day again.”

He understood her hurry, though, because they were leaving as soon as the shop closed next Saturday, flying back to Arizona. And maybe it would’ve been okay to wait, involving Lucy in the process, but this felt like more of a gift.Here, we cared enough to take the time to do this for you. Enjoy the room, it’s yours, no effort required.

“Give me my money,” Trevor demanded, holding out a hand. “I’ve been here for like ten hours.”

He’d been drinking beer and watching movies for a good portion of that time, but Titus gave him two hundred bucks anyway. “Can you crash on the sofa for a bit? I need to get a little sleep before I open in the morning.”

“No prob. You’ve taken me home at 4:00 a.m. before.”

Usually Trev stumbled out to the car, snored all the way there, and then passed out again as soon as he got inside the basement at his parents’ place. He’d sleep until noon, at least, then play video games all day. It must be nice having permanently given up both stress and ambition.

The next morning, it went as he predicted, and Titus centered himself making the delicious pastries the citizens of St. Claire adored. When the cinnamon rolls came out of the oven, he thought of Danica, and Titus almost doubled over.Fuck. That’s new.It was like an internal rebellion within his body, as if his cells were trying to tell him this breakup was wrong—that he was supposed to be with her.

Fuck, I know that. What do you want me to do about it?

Stan shot him a concerned look as he clutched his side. “You good? That’s not appendicitis, is it?”

“Nah. I need to work out more. Think maybe I pulled something lifting that last tray.”

“Try getting old. You should hear how my knees pop in the morning.”

Titus laughed because he was meant to. Stan was always more talkative in the afternoon, disproving the stereotype that all old people were early birds, up at 5:00 a.m. and cheerful about it, eating senior dinner specials at 4:00 and snoozing by 8:00 p.m. Hell, Titus lived more like an elderly soul than Stan did.

The rest of the week buzzed by. Soon, Titus was wrapping up in the kitchen on Saturday afternoon, making sure everything was set for a longer-than-usual shutdown. “Don’t leave any valuables,” he called to Maya. “I hate that we’re closing, but—”

“I’m not a kid,” she shouted back.

Mrs. Carminian had been headed out when he popped out from the back. “Oh, hey. Sorry about the yelling.”

The old woman wore a troubled look, but she let herself be herded, and Maya locked the door behind her. “Hey, apparently they moved our flight up forty minutes.”

Shit. That meant they had to hustle. He hadn’t printed the FAMILY REASONS sign yet, so the usual CLOSED one would have to do. St. Claire might be mildly inconvenienced when they didn’t open on schedule Monday, but he’d give away some samples on Tuesday, apologize profusely. It should be fine.

Titus thought quickly. “Grab the deposit bag. I’ll drive you to the bank and swing by for Trev. We’ll head home, get our bags, then go directly to the airport. Half an hour tops?”

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