On the morning of the 5K race, I show up at the volunteer tent ten minutes early with a large, salted caramel latte in hand. The sky is a bright haze of clouds, making it hard to decide if my sunglasses are necessary or not. I’m cozy in my fitted navy-blue joggers and gray hoodie, and let out a contented sigh when the wind whips around me, kicking up fallen maple leaves around the entrance of the tent. This is the best time of year and somehow feels even better in Mapletown.
“Natalie,” Mayor Crane says with a warm smile. “Lovely to see you. How are you doing?”
I nod, trying to smile. “Great,” I lie. “Excited for the race to begin.”
She puts a hand on my arm and gives me a knowing look. “I know you’re not okay, but I need you to hear me. First of all, heartbreak is an inconvenient bitch, and I’m sorry you’re going through it. Please keep in mind that I’m a witch, part of a coven, and a member of the most powerful family of witches in the country.” She lowers her voice, looking over her shoulder. “If you’d like a hex put on someone, turning their dick into a shriveled banana, turning their carpets into sheets of Legos, unleashing a curable but messy illness on them and everyone they care about, you let me know, okay?”
I laugh, thanking her with a hug. She squeezes me back, and I feel an overwhelming sense of belonging, for the first time in, maybe ever. “Was there a second of all?”
“Ah, yes,” she says. “I’ve said this before, but you’re welcome to stay here for as long as you’d like. The zoning laws require property to be transferred to and from those with monsterblood, but I’d be happy to make an exception for you, should you ever decide to buy real estate.”
“Oh,” I say, honored. “I’m probably a few decades away from that, but I really appreciate it.”
She pats me on the shoulder. “What I meant was, you have the town’s support. You’re one of us, regardless of your boring normie blood.”
I’m not sure I’ve ever received such a wonderful compliment. I ride the high of feeling at home among the monsters of Mapletown throughout the race, cheering on the runners, offering cups of water, and breaking down the tent long after the race is over.
It was a nice few hours to forget the pain slicing through my middle. But it all comes crashing in on me once I’m back in my room at Vyla’s place. And the next thought I have––one I know I shouldn’t have and certainly don’t want to have––is whether anyone has made Winston feel as loved and supported as the people of Mapletown have made me feel. The likelihood of that is tragically low, and as furious as I am at him, my heart squeezes on his behalf, wishing I could be that person.
Chapter 23
Winston
Time goes by in a blink, or it trudges on like spilled molasses. I don’t know, nor do I care. Nothing matters anymore. My Natalie is gone. It’s what I intended, but the last thing I wanted.
If I had let her say…what she started to say, I would’ve said it back, promised her forever, and as long as I treated her with even a hint of kindness, Natalie wouldn’t have left my side. She would’ve felt beholden to me, and I won’t do that to her. I won’t let her know that my universe is in her eyes, her smile. I’ll never go a day without her filling my mind, but she deserves to be cared for in ways that I can’t.
She deserves this kindness, because of how much she freely gives to others. My suffering is my burden. It’s for the best. I know that.
Hopefully, she’s happy, smiling that wide, sparkly grin of hers, lighting up the sky with it. I hope she’s applying for nursing school, adopting a cat or dog or lizard, whatever she wants. Finding a man who can give her the child she deserves. The life she deserves.
I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to forgive myself for breaking her heart. Replaying it, I have no idea how I got through it. With each word, with each savage lie, I put more distance between our bodies, a brick, and then another, laid in the wall I erected separating our hearts.
What I didn’t lie about was that she deserves better. That’s always been true. I’m not enough for her. I’m a poor, prickly ghost who spent his final years alive pretending he was a member of the upper class, and the century thereafter pretending to enjoy being alone. Bullshit. All of it.
Being alone was only enjoyable until I knew what it was like to be with Natalie. The companionable silence we shared in between the wild laughter and the intimate moans. Now that I know how full life can be, I can’t go back to how it was before.
I try.
I make the rounds, tidying, dusting the shelves, and sweeping the floors. Then I go outside, checking the exterior of the house, and the fence that runs along the edge of the property, looking for repairs. I’ve been avoiding Ethel since Natalie left, and she knows it.
When I spot the bright red lips and dark brown hair, I spin on my heel, pretending to head into the forest, but it’s too late. She’s spotted me.
“Winston! Come here, would you?”
I keep my stride short and slow, delaying this as long as possible.
“How are you, my dear?”
“Fine, Ethel,” I say quickly. “Thank you for asking.”
She’s trimming the ends of a pile of flowers into sharp diagonal points. Next to the flowers is her blooming strawberry patch, the berries a striking bright red beneath the warm sun. “And your lovely wife?”
The word is like a bullet lodging itself in my chest, the tissue necrotizing around it. “Uh, Natalie is doing well, I assume.”
That last part has her gaze lifting to mine. “You assume?”
“She’s gone, Ethel,” I say in a single breath. “I fucked it up. I fucked it all up. I told her to leave, and she left.” Everything spills out of me. Every emotion and thought and plea I held back in Natalie’s presence that last day we spoke, it erupts from my mouth. I fall to my knees, pressing my palms and forehead into the rich soil. “She’s not coming back. I told her to go, and she’s never coming back.”
