But he’s not going to be living at Watchmere Light.
This isn’t real — our little habits we’ve formed now, him waking me up with the pistachio lattes, massaging my back and watching me comb my hair, snuggling close at night, easylunches, and work — because the minute the ritual happens, it could all fall apart.
I sigh, tying a ribbon around a box and turning back to my laptop, wheels turning in my head.
Our grandmother’s on the first flight back up here to visit once her artist retreat ends, but at that point it’ll be the full moon, and the ritual will have passed, and we’ll know for sure — or I will know for sure — if Caleb will be scared off or not.
Then there’s the whole vision of the snake, the massive black bird, and the shattering glass bothering me too.
You know, small apocalyptic witchy things and future relationship problems.
I stare at the window, like maybe the answers will manifest between now and tonight. Caleb didn’t come with me to Sugar & Salt today. Instead, he’s back at Watchmere Light, finishing packing up the boxes of his uncle’s life.
He might be packing up and leaving again after tonight, too.
“Dammit.” I’m a mess.
I’m scared the ritual’s going to go wrong. I’m scared that he’s going to decide this isn’t what he wants after all, because tonight is not the cozy quirky witchiness he’s grown accustomed to.
I still want Caleb to be different. I want him to see me, all of me, and not run away. Wanting it doesn’t mean it will happen, though.
I flip the sign toClosedon the front door of Sugar and Salt, and Gunner’s nails click across the black and white floor as he greets me with a soft sound, rubbing his velvety ears against my knee and body.
“Hey,” I tell him. The mere pressure of his sleepy body against mine relieves a solid portion of my stress. “You have a good nap?”
“Yeah. You two kept me up all night again, so I really needed it.”
“You don’t have to listen,” I tell him, both amused and annoyed all at once.
“I can’t help it,” he says. “Not trying to listen to you two acting like absolute monkeys.”
“Gross,” I tell him.
“You’re the one doing it,” he says.
I laugh and head back to the counter, doing one last check to make sure everything is clean.
Posey managed to get my espresso machine up and running again, and it’s been strange to not come into work and make a latte right away, because Caleb’s been the one making them for me. It hasn’t gotten nearly as much use this week because everyone’s been so busy picking up from the flood and catching up on work they missed while they were helping everyone else out.
I give the machine a little pat, head to the back, finishing up my closing chores by making sure that everything is put away, the fridges are closed, powers on, generators fired up just in case the town loses power if there’s another freak storm tonight.
“You’re stalling,” Gunner accuses.
“So what?” I tell him. He’s not wrong.
“Get over it.”
I blink. “You don’t have to be rude.”
“Yeah, really. You can’t put it off forever.” Gunner stares at me, like he’s daring me to disagree.
“I know that,” I tell him, “but I also own this business, and I have to make sure that if we cause something to happen tonight that I’m not going to lose everything in the fridges and all of my hard work out front, or that there’s going to be some kind of freak fire?—”
“Stop,” he interrupts my anxious diatribe. His tongue lolls out. “It’s going to be fine,” Gunner says quietly.
“You can’t know that.” It comes out sharper than I meant.
“Don’t take out how weird you feel about Caleb with me. I’m not going anywhere, and if you get sassy with me, you face the consequences.”
