Honey.
I sent three texts. Called twice. Nothing.
What if she’s already at the gala?
What if she doesn’t want to see me at all?
What if I’m too late?
I shove my phone back in my pocket and head toward the truck, chest burning.
I’m going to the gala. I don’t know what I’ll say. I don’t even know if she’ll listen. But I’m not leaving tonight without trying.
Because whatever this thing is between us—it’s real.
And I’d rather face down an entire farm of outraged bees than never see my Honey again.
Hell, I won’t be able to live with myself if I let her go without a fight.
Chapter 18
Marigold
“You’re here! And you’ve brought a friend. Wunderbar!” Uncle Uzzi exclaims, arms flung wide like a Broadway conductor welcoming us to the grand finale of his enchanted matchmaking opera.
His sprawling estate glows like the cover of a Christmas card—pillars wrapped in garland, icicle lights twinkling with actual stardust, and snow drifting lazily down despite the fact that it’s not snowing anywhere else in the county. Typical.
I take a deep breath, my hands smoothing the front of my deep emerald dress.
“Uncle Uzzi, this is Emery,” I say, gesturing to my best friend, who’s currently trying not to gape at a trio of floating wreaths singing O Holy Night in tight three-part harmony.
He claps his hands. “Of course she is! Come in, come in!”
We follow him inside, the air thick with cinnamon, pine, and something older—ancient magic humming in the walls like a second heartbeat. I should be enchanted.
But I’m not.
Not entirely.
Because even as I admire the floating candlelight, the ice sculptures that refill champagne flutes, the glittering chandeliers with enchanted snowflakes dancing beneath them—my stomach is in knots.
I don’t ask him what I really want to ask him.
Not as we pass a group of shifter socialites comparing enchanted nail charms.
Not as we wind through a forest of crystal Christmas trees, each one glowing in a different color of the aurora borealis.
Not even when we stop in front of a hot cocoa bar staffed by literal sugar sprites.
Each one of them is outfitted in the most beautiful Christmas regalia with peppermint-striped wings as they zip around behind the bar, dusting cinnamon in midair, seemingly heating mugs with a flick of their fingers, and spreading joy in that way only magical creatures can.
One of them winks at Emery and makes her cocoa foam swirl into a heart shape.
Show-off.
Seriously, Uncle Uzzi has outdone himself.
As if the enchanted, snow-globe-of-an-estate wasn’t already festive enough, this cocoa bar is next-level.
