They drove backto her place together, Liam following in Margaret’s truck because neither of them wanted to leave it at the Shady Pines. The whole way home, Cassie kept glancing in the rearview mirror just to make sure he was still there. Still real. Still choosing to follow her back.
He was.
Every time she looked, he was.
The house knew they were coming before they even turned onto her street. She could tell because the porch lights started flickering in welcome from three blocks away, and by the time she pulled into the driveway, every window was blazing with warm golden light.
“I think it’s excited,” she said as Liam parked behind her.
“The house has emotions now?”
“The house hasalwayshad emotions. It just didn’t have a way to express them before I accidentally infused it with chaotic magical energy.” She paused. “That’s going to keep happening, isn’t it? Things getting… animated?”
“Probably.” He took her hand as they walked toward the door, and the simple contact sent warmth spreading through her chest. “Though I’d prefer it if the gnomes stopped watching me.”
“The gnomes are?—”
She stopped.
The garden gnomes had rearranged themselves while she was gone. All three of them, no longer in their usual soldier-line formation. Now the one with the fishing pole stood at the base of the front steps like a tiny maitre d’, while the wheelbarrow gnome and the third one flanked the walkway on either side—ceramic sentries welcoming her home.
Their painted smiles, scaled up to three feet of unsettling enthusiasm, gleamed in the porch light.
“That’s new,” Liam said.
“That’s a welcoming committee.”
“Still creepy.”
She stepped carefully around the gnome display—the one with the fishing pole had positioned himself to “cast” toward the door, line extended like he was reeling them in—and unlocked the front door.
Inside, the house had gone all-out. The walls were glowing soft rose-gold, warmer and steadier than they’d ever been. Candles she didn’t remember even having, let alone lighting flickered on every surface. And from the kitchen, Jacques was playing music—something lush and romantic, strings swelling like the soundtrack to a movie where two people finally stop being idiots and admit they want each other.
“Bonsoir, mes amoureux,” the toaster crooned. “Jesuis tellement heureux que vous avez résolu vos problèmes.”
“Did he just call us lovers?” Liam asked.
“He did. He’s been waiting for this.”
“The toaster has been waiting for us to get together.”
“Everything in this house has been waiting for us to get together. The walls change color when I look at you too long.” She turned to face him, suddenly shy in a way she hadn’t been when she’d been crying and apologizing in a motel parking lot. “Does that bother you? The magic? The chaos? The emotional appliances?”
He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I told you. I was married to a witch for twelve years. Magic doesn’t bother me.”
“But the chaos?—”
“The chaos is part of you.” His hand slid from her hair to the back of her neck, warm and sure. “And I like you. So I’ll learn to live with the chaos.”
Luna chose that moment to appear at the top of the stairs, yellow eyes gleaming in the candlelight.
“Finally,” she said, in a tone of profound exasperation. “I’ve been watching you two pine for weeks. It was embarrassing.”
“Nice to see you too, Luna.”
“Don’t deflect. You’re lucky I approve of him.” The cat descended the stairs with regal disdain. “Hegives good chin scratches and he doesn’t try to put me on a diet. He can stay.”
“Thank you for your blessing,” Liam said dryly.
