“That’s the best part.”
“You evil creature.” But even as he says it, he begins to dance us outside, away from witnesses.
“You started it.”
He carries me out behind the barn and pins me to the smooth wood, music reverberating through the boards. We’re invisible in the cool shadows, safe from prying eyes. Alex positions his hands flat against the barn on either side of my head and bends his head close, hips aligning with mine. I arch to feel him, nails digging into his back.
“Shhh,” he half laughs, burying his lips against the base of my throat. Releases a tender little sigh that sweeps over the swell of my breast. The straps of my dress are well past my shoulders, traveling south. I didn’t say anything to earn ashhh, but I know what he means by it and try to rein in my enthusiasm.
It’s a struggle.
“Don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you.” Alex groans. Slips his fingers in my hair, dropping kisses on my cheeks, jaw. Then his eyes fall closed and his mouth is covering mine, my head spinning with a delightful combination of the new and familiar; I can taste his eagerness, but I also taste his resolve. He’s being methodical about this.
His touch is a slow burn, tongue exploring my mouth with the agonizing sweetness of someone who knows his power butknows how to dampen it, too, slowing time. An intoxicating rush pounds through me, fading to gray, to quiet, to feel these arms, and these lips, right where they belong.
He strokes a finger along my spine to make my back arch. Smiles against my skin. I make a noise of desperation, moving against him again. Alex laughs.“Romina.”
“Sorry.”
“Let me enjoy you without losing my ability to focus. Keep going like that and you’ll lose another pair of underwear.”
I consider it. “I’m fine with that. You undress me too slowly.”
He bats my hand away from his belt. “Let me kiss you. Kiss me. I want you to kiss me.”
“I can do that.” I hook a leg around his hip, sucking his lower lip between my teeth. Let it go. He brushes the hair away from my face, mouth curving.
So we kiss, long and slow.We have all the time in the world, his touch says.
But I’m not sure if that’s true.
He hums with pleasure, deep down in his throat, unaware that I’m not entirely present. Kissing him like this is tumbling through a void, tethered to him with nothing to find purchase on, not knowing when or where we’ll land, how punishing the impact will be. I’m going to crash. It’s going to bruise.
I hook my fingers in his belt loops, pinning us together, and although his eyes remain closed, his forehead furrows like he’s clinging to grounding forces, mind made up. “Tomorrow,” he says, eyes flashing open again, words fluttery, “we’ll have breakfast together, play Go Fish with Miles. I’ll look the other way when you cheat.” Then he kisses me again, blazing trails of heat. “I’ve missed you. I’ve missed you so much, you have no idea, I can’t describe it. It’s like I’d forgotten what it feels like to bewarm.” His words are breaking. “I thought I’d never get to touch you again.”
I peer up at him, his words sinking into the earth around my feet. I feel as if this moment sits next to our real lives without overlapping. I feel like I’m compressing into a tight coil that could spring up in surprise at any moment. A ticking clock strapped to dynamite.
He unhooks my other earring; I watch it sparkle in his palm before it joins the rest.
“Touch me now,” I whisper, but he takes me by the hand abruptly, tugging me back into the barn, into the lights and the noise. It’s as if he only peeled off one of my layers when he led me away, and the other half of me is still leaning against the back of the barn, staring up at the stars, that knot of dread drawing tighter, tighter.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
BLACK MULBERRY TREE:
I shall not survive you.
It’s late when Alex takes me home. He can’t stay long, because he has to get back to Miles, so he drives off with a smile curving his lips, anticipating the morning, when he plans to introduce me to Miles in earnest. They’ll be staying at Half Moon Mill—a few wedding guests left right after the reception, which opened up a room for them.
I’m in the courtyard behind The Magick Happens, prying up stones buried in the four corners of my flower beds. Amethyst, rose quartz, moonstone, jade, all planted with the hopes of growing love. In their places, I leave black tourmaline, citrine, tiger’s-eye, carnelian. For protection. My haven is fragrant with fresh rain, straw from the chicken coop. Dark, moist dirt. The pavers below my shoes are eternally wet from a hose—not only from watering my plants but also from Aisling coming back here to play with it. I can tell by a thick wedge of twigs, petals, and leaves turned to mulch, caked into the crevices along one wall where the ground dips. Indicative of water flowing down there, time and time again, carrying loose debris. I close my eyes to breatheit all in, grounded in this sanctuary where I feel the most at home, where I know what I’m doing, that my choices arerightbecause they are often guided by ancient forces.
I love flowers. They’re beautiful and predictable; some are capricious, some are hardy. They bring all different scents—woody, fresh, clean, earthy—and all different textures. Caterpillarish chenille plants, waxy heart leaf philodendron, velvety purple passion, papery cupid’s dart. I like putting them to bed in soil and watching them slowly rise, knowing I helped create life, that I’ve brought loveliness into the world. Closing my eyes as I run my fingers over a plant, feeling every cell of it from root to leaf, responding to my touch. I should have just stayed in my garden and minded my business. I should have declined Kristin’s invitation to participate in the scavenger hunt.
The charm bags tied to our witch hazel tree, weeping higan cherry, and royal purple smoke bush are turned out next, cinnamon and crushed rose shaken loose into a dustbin. What was I thinking, filling my home and garden with such dangerous requests? I’ve done nothing but draw trouble.
It was horrible enough when Alex and I broke up the first time—if we break up again, I don’t think I’d ever recover. The fact that he has a child makes it riskier, because I don’t know how to have a child in my life without making them part of my family.
I’m tired of losing family.
