I huff and sip the wine. “I hate this. I hate feeling this much. I was fine before him. I had my bakery, my peace, my perfectly curated little life. Then he shows up and boom—I’m baking love cookies and having magical orgasms and feeling hopeful and now I’m just—ugh!”
“Scared,” Uzzi finishes gently.
“Angry,” I say at the same time.
He nods.
“Both are allowed. Both are real. But may I offer you a bit of witchy wisdom, my dear?”
“Please.”
He leans closer, lowering his voice.
“Being open-hearted does not make you weak. It makes you brave. There is nothing more powerful than a woman who chooses to feel it all and love anyway.”
I swallow hard.
“It still hurts,” I whisper.
“Yes,” he agrees. “But you’re still here. In your best dress. In full glam. With perfect eyeliner, no less.”
He smiles gently.
“Because you’re not weak, Marigold. You’re just in it. And no amount of magic can save you from the messiness of love. All we can do is show up with our hearts in our hands and hope the other person does the same.”
I blink back the sudden sting in my eyes and nod.
“Now,” Uzzi continues, taking my glass. “Let’s go inside. The party’s just beginning. And if the man in question does show up tonight, he’d better come with good explanations and better intentions—or I shall turn him into a Badger and make him clean chimneys.”
“He is a Badger.”
Uzzi grins. “Then the chimney part stands.”
Emery returns to my side with two sparkling punch glasses and a snowflake sticker stuck to her cheek.
“You good?” she asks, eyes sharp, taking me in.
“I will be,” I say, glancing around the glittering ballroom.
Because tonight?
I’m not running.
If Eb wants to explain himself—he can find me.
And if not?
Well, I’ll leave with a new sense of power, and maybe a peppermint truffle or two.
Chapter 19
Eb
“You know, I survived one accident this week, but I think I almost died eighteen times on the way here, Eb! I’m telling Mom!”
I don’t dignify my brother with a response.
Just a growl.
