“No, let me get this out.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I love you, Jordie. Probably more than any other person in my life. And after Meredith, I was so worried about you. I think... I think I just got used to worrying, you know? I forgot who you are, that you’re this amazing, strong, capable person. I wanted to take care of you, so much so that I forgot to believe in you. I should’ve recognized the design as yours. Now that I know, it’s so obviouslyyou, but I couldn’t see it before because I didn’t think you could... fuck. I’m sorry, Jordie. Please know how sorry I am.”
She blinked sudden tears away, but they just kept on springing into her eyes. “Simon. You...” She didn’t know what to say. Shecouldn’t sayIt’s okay, because they both knew it wasn’t. But neither was she angry. She was hurt, yeah, but mostly, she was grateful. She was so goddamn grateful for this moment, for a brother who loved her enough to care so much, even if he took it a little too far sometimes.
She looped her arms around his neck and pulled him close. “In your defense,” she said into his shoulder, “Iwasa big fucking mess.”
He laughed and held her tightly. Her twin. Her best friend.
“I’m proud of you, sister,” he said. “I’m so proud of you.”
She squeezed him one more time before letting him go. They both wiped at their faces, laughing at their matching red and watery eyes.
“So,” he said once they’d recovered. “What are you going to do about Astrid?”
Jordan’s smile slipped right off her face. “Nothing. There’s nothingtodo, Simon.”
Because Astrid was right—Jordandiddeserve every good thing. And maybe, as much as Jordan felt like her heart was going to tear itself to shreds at the thought, Astrid wasn’t good for her.
Jordan deserved someone who wouldn’t run away. She deserved someone who would talk through things, figure it out, give Jordan a chance to talk too.
Jordan deserved a great love.
She deserved a destiny.
And goddammit, she wasn’t going to settle for anything less.
Chapter Thirty-four
WEDNESDAY EVENING, ASTRIDcalled an emergency coven meeting. They gathered at Claire and Delilah’s, where the four of them were now huddled around the kitchen table, laptops and papers and pens spread across the wooden surface, along with cans of bubbly water and a barely touched bowl of popcorn.
Astrid had spent the last two days since she quit her job ignoring her mother’s calls and making lists. She had a list for her financial situation—she had a good bit of savings, along with the money from her father that she couldn’t access until she was thirty-five, so that didn’t help much right now. She had a list of real estate agents who weren’t in her mother’s pocket—if she got a job quickly, she wouldn’t have to sell her house, but more and more she was feeling like she wanted to sell it. Just start the hell over. And, of course, she had a list featuring possible career paths, which included anything and everything she could think of.
“Jesus god, if you get your real estate license and put a billboard with your Stepford wife smile up on I-5, that’s it,” Iris said, looking over the latter list. “I will cease to be your friend.”
Astrid groaned and dropped her head into her hands. “I don’t want to be a real estate agent.”
“Then don’t be one,” Delilah said. She picked up a pen and scribbled the option off the list.
“Receptionist?” Claire asked, looking at another bulleted item. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that, honey, but I don’t think it would make you happy.”
Astrid lifted her hands in defeat. “I need money, Claire. Being happy—”
“Is the whole point,” Iris said. “That’s why you quit your job. It’s why we’re sitting here. Not everyone gets that chance, and it’s an incredibly privileged position to be in, my darling.”
“You’re right. I know you’re right,” Astrid said. She was lucky. She had a solid savings account and friends who would do anything for her.
“So what do youwant, Astrid?” Iris asked.
She opened her mouth to beg off again—lucky or not, the question still scared the shit out of her—but Iris put up her hand to silence her.
“No. Full stop. If you could do anything, what would it be?”
A name flitted through her mind. A backyard with a hammock under the stars, calloused hands on her hips while she whipped up something in the kitchen. A rosebud mouth on her neck.
Astrid shook her head and focused on jobs. There was something there, way in the back of her mind and covered in cobwebs. But it was as far-fetched as Astrid herself becoming a Disney singer. “That might not be possible.”
“So what?” Iris said. “It’s a starting point.”
Astrid sighed and looked over her list. Her cobwebbed dream wasn’t written on here. She hadn’t had the courage.
