“I disagree,” he says in that rich, commanding tone that I’ve longed to hear again. “I love to obsess over details and make big, messy art. You love to organise. It may seem as if we are incompatible, but perhaps what we truly are is— Ah, that other half of my gift has arrived.”
“The what?”
My head jerks up, and I meet his eye. It’s a mistake, because I’m trying to hold on to the shattered pieces of my heart, and those dark, expressive orbs have me in their spell.
A knock sounds on the door.
EMAIL FROM CLAIRE DEMPSEY TO WINNIE PRESTON
Subject:You left the clutter queens!
Winnie,
I just saw on Faye’s insta that you’re no longer in business with her! I’m so happy. She was totally taking advantage of you.
If you read this far, I’M SO SORRY about everything.
I never meant to hurt you. Patrick and I just happened. I know you might not ever speak to me again, and I’d understand that, but I hope you read this because I have to tell you something about Lord Valerian, and you might not like it.
Patrick had to go to Argleton to meet with a new client, and I tagged along to look at wedding venues. But the client insisted on having their meetings in the middle of the night. Weird, right? Well, it gets weirder.
After the meeting, Patrick was shaky and listless and kept rubbing his neck and muttering strange things. And then he saw you with Lord Valerian and he got even more freaked out. He kept saying that he needed to warn you, that Lord Valerian was “one of them”. I think that’s what he was trying to do at the Midsummer Festival.
Patrick’s client was the Sanctus Estate. I don’t know what any of this means, but I hope it isn’t bad. I just thought you should know.
Miss you,
Claire
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
WINNIE
“My visitors have arrived.” Alaric skirts around me to answer the door.
Panic seizes me. If the manager is already pissed about Mum’s mess, he won’t appreciate us ignoring his “no gatherings” rule at one in the morning. “It’s awfully presumptuous for you to invite your own visitors intomyhotel room?—”
Alaric flings open the door. Into our tiny room traipses the entire Nevermore Murder Club and Smutty Book Coven.
“Winnie!” Isis throws her arms around me, her crystal necklaces clanking against my ribs. “We’re so happy to see you again! Your aura is all muddled up. You need one of Dora’s herbal teas.”
“We missed you.” Mina and Oscar burrow in beside Isis. Her arms encircle me. “No one stays behind to help me pick up after the meeting anymore.”
“I brought you a box of cupcakes because I know you’ll be eating junk London food.” Celeste dumps an enormous Glazed and Confused bakery box on the kitchenette counter before joining the hug. “Avocado toast and healthy smoothies and salads withoutany cheese. Gross.”
“And I added some of my famous mung bean brownies,” Beth says as she leaps into the fray. “If you soak them in your tea, you can get them soft enough to bite.”
Dora places a package of tea on top of the box and silently joins the embrace.
“I stole your parking space out front.” Komal kisses my cheeks as she squeezes me tight. “The hotel manager said he’d never seen someone park quite as jauntily as me. Can you believe I shaved thirty-eight minutes off the Google Maps driving time?”
“I’ve never been so frightened for my life, and I spent a summer internship at journalism school reporting from an actual warzone.” Maisie has to slide her arms around my hips to fit herself into the chaos.
“This place is an absolute dump,” Arabella sniffs as she stalks the perimeter of the room like a panther. She’s wearing an absurd wide-brimmed floppy designer hat that she does not remove even though she keeps bending the brim against the walls. As she passes me, she dares a quick kiss to the top of my head.
My heart fills with warmth. After a month in London, I’d started to wonder if I imagined them all – this chaotic, wonderful, supportive group of friends who have my back.
“What are you all doing here?” I laugh, squeezing them so hard my arms might fall off.
