Page 58 of Extra Witchy

Margie:It’s understandable. Win the election.

She sent a private text to Vanessa:Everything okay? Do you want to talk?

Vanessa:There’s some stuff going on, but I’d rather not get into it right now.

Leanne:Okay, but I’m here if you need me. Day or night.

Vanessa:I know. And thanks.

***

A few days later, Trev got a message from Dante, a little unusual.

Among their poker pals, Trev was closest to Titus. Everyone else, he joked around with in the group chat, but he’d never hung out with Dante, Calvin, or Miguel one-on-one. Poker night was the height of him being social, and he never hosted because why the hell would the guys want to get depressed in his basement? It occurred to him that Leanne might be okay with him inviting the guys over, though, maybe on her book club night?

Trev read the text twice.I need some advice. Want to get a beer?

Does he actually think I can help?

Leanne had said she’d be late at the campaign office tonight. She had some local media interviews lined up, so he mentally shrugged.Sounds good. When and where?

Dante:Seven Grand at 7.

Trev had sold his car a couple days ago, and now he actually had money in the bank. He hadn’t bought the electric bike yet, as he couldn’t decide between a cheap, low-speed model and a Vespa-type ride. It would make sense to go with the former, though, to pay for classes and pay down the balance on his card and bank the rest until he started earning.

Thus making up his mind, he registered for the two courses Leanne had endorsed and noted the start dates on his digital calendar. How…wild. Since moving in with her, he hadn’t spent more than a few hours here and there playing games. While he’d expected to miss it, he enjoyed having stuff to do and places to be. He spent the rest of the day tidying the condo and updating Leanne’s campaign socials. Pics from her past few talks went up, then he made some more reels, as the first ones were still spinning out there, gathering interest and responses. Before heading out, he left a note for Leanne on the fridgeandtexted her his plans.

She replied right away:Have fun, sweetheart. See you later.

There was no need to dress up, but if he recalled correctly from the single time he’d been to Seven Grand, the place had a business-casual vibe. So he put on a gray-and-white striped button-up and his good jeans. After checking the time, Trev got a rideshare from Howard Carruthers and arrived before Dante.

Seven Grand was a freestanding brick building toward the highway, decorated with ornate shrubberies and fairy lights. The place probably hoped to grab traffic from the freeway and from town; he wasn’t sure how successful it was. Inside, it was all burnished wood and well-dressed people with mellow music purring from the speakers. He suspected the fixtures and sconces weren’t real antiques, but they were excellent reproductions.

He grabbed a table and ordered a beer while scrolling through memes. Soon, his phone started pinging nonstop with new notifications, as his newest post went viral. It turned out if you suggested your wife hire a goofy ginger cat to run the city—why not put the fat cats in charge for real?—netizens loved it. He was laughing at a list someone had made of Goliath’s qualifications when a shadow fell across the wood.

Glancing up and expecting Dante, he felt like the room went still around him, and his heart practically froze in his chest.Sarah. Sarah Croft. Wait, that was her maiden name.The room seemed to get smaller and hotter as she smiled at him as if she hadn’t once ripped his heart out and stepped on it.

“You look amazing,” she said, scanning him in a manner that felt intrusive.

Sarah didn’t have the right to look at him that way. Nobody but Leanne did. As if from a great distance, he noticed she’d lost weight, the last ten pounds he’d always thought looked good on her, and her light-brown hair was streaked blond. She’d always preferred natural makeup, and that hadn’t changed, though her brown eyes were darker than he recalled. After the way things ended between them, he couldn’t bring himself to return the compliment.

His face might as well be covered in cement, like the muscles wouldn’t even move, and his throat felt tight. Trev prayed that his voice didn’t reflect the strain. “Thanks.”

She cocked her head with a friendly smile, setting a hand on his table as if she meant to linger. “You must be wondering why I’m in St. Claire.”

He just stared at her because, in fact, he wasn’t. Words wouldn’t come for this awkward, awful situation. What evenwerewords? Instead, he got a live-action replay in his brain of how hard he’d cried when she’d left, the way he’d pleaded for one last chance to get his shit together.You’ll die in this basement.In all likelihood, the only shock from their breakup was that she hadn’t left when he was forced to move back home—that she’d given him a little time.

Somehow she was still talking. “I’m here for my cousin’s wedding. Sent you the invitation for mine, but you didn’t respond.”

Are you surprised?

If only teleportation was a thing, he’d vanish, or hell, maybe he’d poof her somewhere else, so she wouldn’t be standing there staring at him, waiting for…what? Did she need closure or something? Until the request for RSVP arrived, he’d have said Sarah would answer any questions about him with a head toss and, “Trevor who?”

“I’ve been busy,” he said. “Did you need something else?”

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”

He blinked. That was the last thing he’d expected to hear from her. “About what?”

---