Cassie set down her spoon and hugged me. A real hug, the kind that meant something.
“I’m so proud of you,” she said into my hair. “You know that, right? A year ago, you would have run screaming from anything that felt this real.”
“A year ago, I didn’t have a possessed phone forcing me to confront my commitment issues.”
“Silver linings.” She pulled back, grinning. “The magic knew what it was doing.”
“The magic was chaotic and overwhelming and nearly drove me insane.”
“And yet.” She gestured vaguely at everything—the house, the people, the life I’d somehow built. “Here you are.”
Here I was. In a kitchen that wasn’t mine, eating ice cream with my best friend, while the man I loved argued about sports in the next room. Living a life I never thought I’d have because I’d been too scared to reach for it.
“Here I am,” I agreed. “Finally.”
Later,after the dishes were done and the goodbyes were said and we'd made it back to the apartment above the antique shop, Marcus and I collapsed on the couch.
The apartment was quiet. Warm. The kind of quiet that didn't feel empty anymore—that felt full, somehow. Full of his books and my shampoo bottles and the cat currently claiming the entire armchair like he owned it.
"Thank you," I said.
Marcus looked over, eyebrows raised. "For what?"
"For calling me out. Back when this started." I shifted to face him, tucking my legs underneath me. "For not letting me treat you like a backup plan. For demanding I actually figure out what I wanted instead of just... hovering forever."
"You deserved someone who'd fight for you." His voice was quiet. "Even if I had to make you fight first."
"That's either romantic or manipulative."
"Little of both." His mouth twitched. "I'm Scottish-adjacent by virtue of spending too much time with Liam."
I laughed, surprised by the warmth that bloomed in my chest. "Scottish-adjacent. Is that a thing?"
"It is now. I've adopted the grumpiness and the tendency to solve problems with tea. Next I'll develop opinions about whisky."
"Please don't. One whisky snob in the friend group is enough."
He pulled me closer, and I went willingly, settling into his side like I'd been doing it for years instead of weeks. His arm around my shoulders. My head against his chest. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat under my ear.
This was what I'd been so afraid of. This quiet, ordinary intimacy. The vulnerability of letting someone see you rumpled and real, day after day, without the escape hatch of knowing you could leave.
But I didn't want to leave. That was the miracle of it. For the first time in my life, I wanted to stay.
"I love you," I said.
The words came out easy. Natural. Like I'd been saying them forever instead of for just a few hours.
Marcus pressed a kiss to the top of my head. "I love you too. Even though you have seven shampoos."
"Eight, actually. I forgot about the one in my gym bag."
"You don't go to the gym."
"I might start."
"You won't."
"I won't. But the shampoo is there if I do."
