“I can build things, I’ll have you know,” I grumble in jest, but poke his ribs, which is guaranteed to make him laugh. Pulling my phone out, I hand it to Eddie. “If I could trouble you . . . I want a photo with my son and his teacher.”
“Make it a good one, Eddie, because we’re notleaving until you do,” Story adds, slapping him on the shoulder, only to follow up with a kiss on his cheek.
The window is designed to keep the subjects close together, which is fine by me, as the three of us squash into the space. Max, being Max, almost puts his head into the hole, while Story and I stay a little farther back.
I find Story’s hand again, lacing our fingers together while I have the opportunity.
“Are you okay?” she whispers.
“I’m perfect,” I reply. “Are you?”
She doesn’t speak, only leans in as gently as possible and angles her cheek toward me, to which I oblige.
And that’s the photo we get—Max between us in the foreground while I’m kissing Story.
There’s so much to see, and the morning passes quickly, especially with Max dragging us from stall to stall.
We manage to avoid being targeted by the overly enthusiastic Cupids, and Max requests a poem about butts, which sets him off giggling for the rest of the day. On our second trip past Agatha’s shop, she rushes out and, before we can stop her, hugs us tight.
“Wonderful. So wonderful. The reunion we’ve all been waiting for.” Her hand cups Story’s cheek, and it takes all my willpower not to laugh at the expression on her face. “I told you that spell would work. All you needed was a little faith and trust in magic.”
“Sure.” Story smiles sheepishly. “Thanks, Agatha.”
Agatha takes my hand along with Story’s and squeezes hard. “You’re welcome, you’re welcome, my darlings. Come back this week, and we can make a little potion to set your journey off with success.”
She rushes back into the store as quickly as she left. She’s not out of sight before I spin around to Story, who’s already wincing.
“What spell?”
“Nothing.” She waves me off, but unlucky for her, I know when she’s lying.
“Story MacIntosh,what spell?”
She rolls her eyes. “What? Agatha gave me a spell to summon what my heart desired most. It’s not a big deal because it didn’t work.”
“Um . . . yes, it is. And Agatha seems to think it worked. When did you do this spell? Am I under it right now?”
“I never said it was about you.” Brown eyes narrow at me.
I waggle my eyebrows, enjoying the annoyance on Story’s face. “But it was, though, wasn’t it?”
She’s on the verge of stomping her foot. “It was ten years ago, Hendricks. It didn’t work.”
Barking out a laugh, I sling my arm around her shoulders and pull her in close enough that I can drop a kiss on her temple. “I’ve always been under your spell, Story MacIntosh.”
Her body softens into my side. “You’re so cheesy.”
“But you love it,” I whisper.
She doesn’t reply, but as she starts to walk ahead,I hear her chuckling. I wait, and watch, and when she spins around, I’m hit with the full weight of her smile. It’s spectacular, and for a second, I can’t breathe. I survived too many years without it, and in this moment, I honestly don’t know how.
“Max”—she holds her hand out—“it’s time to go to the concert. Come with me, and Daddy can watch in front of the stage.”
He glances up at me, eyes begging to get him out of it. “We’re all going to be watching and cheering, Maxy. I’ll be standing next to Granny and Uncle Lando.”
“All right,” he grumbles and takes Story’s hand.
She leads him off, and I head for the stage, wondering how the hell I’m going to find the rest of my family in the crowds. But Lando is the first person I see, arm around Holiday, who’s wearing the biggest pair of sunglasses, a beanie, and a thick winter coat with the neck pulled high. Locals are getting used to having a Hollywood star around the village, but there are so many people here today that she’s decided to come in disguise.
