He shrugs.“That’s why they call it old-married-couple fighting.It’s arguing with the one you love.”His smile drops, and he raises eyebrows in alarm.“I mean, like…I didn’t mean to say that we’re married, because like…”
“I got you, Lulu.”I bump his shoulder again and give his hand a squeeze.He’s so adorable, and at the rate we’re going, we’ll be married one day, I’m sure.“You should know, I’ve never done this whole…boyfriend thing.”
“What?No boyfriends for the great Taz Devries?”
“None that I was serious with.”I stop and turn to him, and we listen to the waves crash to my left.“None that knew me as a punk teenager, and none that let me be…me.”
“You knew me back then, too.”He brushes my cheek.“Maybe if I hadn’t been so immature, then?”
“Then everything would have been different, and I wouldn’t have my brother back.”I kiss his hand.“And I may not have fallen in love with you.”
His smile is the most beautiful piece of art, so immaculate.Way better than his frowns that I secretly enjoyed as a kid.We walk for a few minutes more down an alley, and Luther says, “I think we would have ended up here.Fighting crime and hooking up around the world.”
I chuckle.“It was inevitable?”
“It was destiny,” he says in an overdramatic whisper, and I laugh.
“Destiny…” When I say the words, something peculiar catches my eye.“No way.”
Striding down the block, I arrive at one obscure storefront.“What is it?”Luther asks.
“You don’t recognize it?”I point up to the Chinese letters on the sign.“This is the exact shop we went to in Paris.”
Luther shoots me a skeptical look.“So, what, like a chain?Because that wasn’t that long ago.”
“No, it’s the exact same.Don’t you feel the magic?”Luther and I both wag our fingers to subtly detect pulses of sorcery.He nods in confirmation, and, wordlessly, we step into the store.
The bell rings, and we’re struck with the scent of tobacco.This may be in Portugal, but it’s like we’re in Paris all over again.I don’t get to peruse the wares before a familiar woman walks out from behind the backroom.
“Welcome,” she says, lighting a pipe.Her gray hair is the exact same length, and I know she recognizes us; she has to.
“How…how are you here?”I ask.
“How are any of us here?By the grace of the universe.”She grins and takes a puff on her pipe.
“Not what I meant,” I mutter.
“Are you the same shopkeeper from Paris?”Luther asks.
“I’m right here, aren’t I?”she replies without so much as blinking.
I huff.“What’s your game, lady?”
“No game.I’m just a simple shopkeeper.”
“But you were in Paris.The same night we…” Luther looks at me, and I recall the rainy night we had sex for the first time.
The pipe-smoking woman looks between us and simply smiles.“It sounds like the two of you are happy and in love.”
On instinct, I take Luther’s hand again and give it a squeeze.“We are.But if we find out you’re a warlock?”
“Once again, I do not know what you mean.”She blows out smoke, and I frown in annoyance.“But we’re all safe and content now, aren’t we?”
Luther’s face softens as he looks at me.“I’d say so.”
“Then buy some wares.”She stands up and, with a grin, adds, “Or get out of my shop.”
I frown, but before I can say more, she walks to a far shelf.“Might I interest you boys in rings?”The woman winks at us.“Engagement rings?”
