“To actually wanting something.” She lit one of the candles, began walking a slow circle around my living room. “Your magic senses it. It’s escalating.”
“The magic is ESCALATING?”
“The gift responds to the witch.” She paused to sprinkle salt across my doorway. “You spent a week in that antique shop. You almost kissed someone. You started closing doors—or at least, you started thinking about closing doors. The magic felt it.”
“And it didn’t like that?”
“It panicked.” She completed her circle, muttered something in a language I didn’t recognize. The air in the apartment shifted—felt cleaner somehow, like after a thunderstorm. “Every ex, every possibility, every what-if you ever entertained—it’s pulling them all in. Trying to overwhelm you. Trying to keep you in that comfortable space of endless options.”
I looked at Ryan, who was quietly humming “As Long As You Love Me” in the corner. At Derek, who was making notes on a napkin, probably cataloging my grammatical sins. At Greg, who had finished his cereal and was now attempting to meditate.
“How do I make it stop?”
“You know how.”
“I really don’t.”
“You choose.” Margaret packed up her supplies with efficient movements. “Close a door. Commit to something. Show your magic that narrowing down doesn’t mean disaster.”
“And if I choose wrong?”
“Then you’ll survive it.” She shouldered her bag. “The new wards will hold for a few days—no new arrivals. But the ones already here won’t leave until you start making decisions.”
She left. The door clicked shut behind her.
I stood in my warded apartment, surrounded by men from my past, and wondered if I was ever going to figure out how to do this.
Todd showedup three hours later.
Not a magic-summoned echo of Todd. Not a younger version pulled from some romantic timeline. The actual, present-day, fifty-one-year-old Todd, standing outside my door looking older and tireder than I’d ever seen him.
“How did you get past the wards?” I asked.
“The what?”
Right. He wasn’t magic. He was just… here. Because he’d driven here, like a normal person, probably using GPS and everything.
“Never mind.” I stood in my doorway, not inviting him in. Behind me, I could hear the muffled sounds of Ryan explaining to Greg why NSYNC was actually inferior to the Backstreet Boys. “What do you want, Todd?”
“I told you in my message. I want to talk.”
“We don’t have anything to talk about.”
“I think we do.” He looked past me into the apartment, caught a glimpse of the chaos inside, and blinked. “Are you… having a party?”
“No. It’s a long story. What do you want?”
“I don’t know.” He ran a hand through his hair—greyer now, thinner, and standing up like he’d been doing that a lot. “I couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t concentrate. Couldn’t stop thinking about you. It’s been weeks now—this pull, like something was dragging me here. I finally just got in the car and drove.”
He looked as confused by this as I was. The confident man who’d told me I “wasn’t the woman he married anymore” was gone. In his place was someone haggard, uncertain, like he’d been fighting something he didn’t understand.
“The magic,” I said quietly. “My magic. It’s been pulling in every romantic possibility from my past.”
“Your what?”
“It’s a long story.” I stood in my doorway, not inviting him in. Behind me, I could hear the muffled sounds of Ryan explaining to Greg why NSYNC was actually inferior to the Backstreet Boys. “Why are you really here, Todd?”
He was quiet for a long moment. Then: “I thought maybe we could try again.”
