“Same power. Different recipe.” He opened his eyes and held the vial up so she could see the liquid inside, which had turned from clear to a deep emerald green. “Growth potion. My mother’s recipe. She used to make this every spring for her garden.” He poured it into the planter’s soil. Within seconds, green shoots pushed through the dirt. They grew taller andthicker, leaves unfurling. White jasmine blossoms opened in clusters along the stems and its sweet scent filled the rooftop.
Olivia’s arms dropped to her sides.
He picked up the second vial, and once again, infused it with his magic. This time the liquid turned a deep indigo. “This one accelerates blooming. Works on anything dormant.” He poured it into the next planter and morning glories spiraled upward, winding around the railing.
“This is amazing,” she gasped. “How … I mean, you explained how your power works, but I still can’t wrap my head around it. You just think of what you want and you can turn any liquid into a potion?”
“Kind of. First, I have to know the recipe from memory. Almost any liquid works, but water is the easiest because it’s pure.” He reached for the third vial, and this time, it turned into a violet liquid. “Lavender propagation. My mother made this one to help her sleep.” He poured, and lavender spilled from the planter, filling the air with its scent. The fourth produced gardenias.
The fifth he poured into a shallow dish of water he’d placed near the railing. His hands glowed as he placed them over the surface, and the liquid turned iridescent.
“Luminescence,” he said. “She made this one just because she thought it was pretty.”
He held the last vial in his palm. The glow came slower this time, gentler. The water turned a pale gold. He didn’t pour it, but offered it her instead.
“This one was my mother’s favorite. She made it every spring. Said it smelled like the place she grew up.” He swallowed. “I haven’t made it since she died.”
Olivia took the vial. She uncorked it and held it under her nose. Whatever she smelled made her eyes close.
“Eli,” she whispered.
“My mother taught me that magic could make beautiful things. I spent my half my life hiding it because I was afraid of what people would do if they found out. But I don’t want to hide anymore.” He took in a sharp breath. “It’s part of who I am, what shaped me. Like my mother’s coven.”
She opened her eyes.
“I asked the Featherstones to come to New York,” he said. “They’re arriving next week. Margaux, Tabitha, and Astoria.”
Her lips parted. “You did?”
“I called Margaux. We talked for two hours. It wasn’t easy and we’ve got a long way to go. But I asked them to come, and they said yes.” He met her gaze. “Not just for you. For me. You told me once that I’d turned what they did to my mother into my excuse for never letting anyone in. You were right. I’ve been holding onto that anger my whole life because it was easier than dealing with what was underneath it.”
He wanted her to see that he’d made peace with his past, that he had taken her words from that last night in Kentucky and understood what he had to do. He planned everything carefully, but he hadn’t figured out what happens after this part. So, he just said the words he’d been longing for her to hear.
“I love you, Olivia.” Once he said that, the rest came easy. “I thought Garret and Ronan and the Boston clan had beaten it out of me, that I wasn’t capable of it. But then I remembered my mother. How she loved me and taught me that love wasn’t about being strong enough to protect someone. It was about being brave enough to stay. She stayed, even when her coven threw her out, even when she was sick and alone, she stayed with me as long as she could.”
His voice roughened, but he kept going. “For a long time, I forgot. And then I met you, and you reminded me. And I walked away anyway, because I was scared. Because staying meantletting you see all of it, the coven, Garret, everything. And I didn’t think I was worth that.”
A tear slid down Olivia’s cheek.
“Garret told me to break the cycle, that’s what I’m doing. And I’m starting with the Featherstones. I’m not running anymore.” He stepped closer and took her hands in his. “I can’t undo the last three months and I can’t earn your trust with magic or flowers. But I’m asking you to let me try. You deserve someone who stays and I want to be that person.”
Olivia gazed up at him and held his hands for the longest time before she spoke.
“You grew me a garden.”
“Yeah.”
“On a rooftop. In Manhattan.”
“I told you, I wanted to take you on a date and buy you flowers and stuff.”
A smile broke out on her face. She pressed her forehead against his chest and he wrapped his arms around her. The bump pressed between them, and the baby kicked once, hard, as if to sayfinally.
“I love you, too,” she said into his shirt. “I’ve loved you since the waffles.”
“The waffles?”
“Don’t ask. I’ll explain later.”
