She sighed and reached over to take his hand, needing a little extra comfort for a moment. Roan laced his fingers through hers and squeezed tightly. Their hands were beneath the bar, so Conrad shouldn’t have been able to see anything, but he looked between the two of them in suspicion.
“You two look awful cozy,” he said, directing his thoughts to Abigail, who could feel herself blushing.
“Knock it off, Conrad,” Roan said.
“I’m just saying,” Conrad said, raising his hands in innocence. “I like it.”
“I’m sure you do,” Roan said, glaring at him.
“I think I’m gonna go talk to Tanner,” Conrad said with a grin, taking the full glass and leaving the bar.
Abigail let herself lean into Roan’s side a little, her head resting on his shoulder.
“One more night,” she said.
“I know.” Roan’s voice was as heavy as she felt.
“You still don’t remember,” she said. It wasn’t a question.
“No.” The words were harsh, so reminiscent of the Roan before the curse.
She hadn’t missed that. “We’ll figure it out,” she said quietly.
Roan sighed and let go of her hand to wrap his arm around her waist and pull her closer. “I know we will, darling.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead and Abigail tried not to melt into his arms.
Tomorrow, they would find out what was going to happen.
Tonight, she would savor every moment with him.
Abigail woke the next morning with a sense of finality in her bones.
It was the last day.
She’d done everything she could, and now it was up to Roan and the curse.
The sun had not yet risen, but she could tell it was coming, and she couldn’t sleep anymore, so she got up and started making tea. If she couldn’t sleep, at least she could get something done.
She made her way out into the tavern, planting her hands on her hips as she looked around the room at everything she had accomplished since the curse sent them back in time.
The whole room felt different with the curtains gone. Even in the early morning, with the light barely beginning to shine through, the room felt bigger and brighter, and it almost sparkled after all the cleaning she had done.
The warm glow of the dream world almost existed in the waking world as the sunrise began peeking through the windows.
She looked around in satisfaction, her eyes landing on the tapestry that Roan’s grandmother had made with the lucky goat embroidered on it. She frowned at the rip, which seemed as if it had grown larger this week, though surely it hadn’t.
Perhaps Roan wouldn’t mind her fixing it now that things had changed between them. But perhaps it was best to ask for permission first this time, instead of throwing herself into it as she always did and getting in trouble for it.
She made her way back to the kitchen just in time as Beastie bounded in and scratched at the back door.
“Good morning, Beastie,” she said, scratching under her ear as she opened the door and let her out.
She followed Beastie into the garden, sitting down on the edge of one of the beds that they’d fixed together and drawing in a few deep breaths of the fresh morning air. There was something special about an early summer morning when the breeze went through your hair. It was perfect.
Except for the lingering realization that everything could be ripped away from her after today.
She took a deep breath. She couldn’t worry about that now—if she did, she would be worrying all day, and she had a few more tasks to accomplish before, if all went well, life returned to normal.
She made her way back into the kitchen, and Roan was there putting the kettle back on.
