Page 52 of Hex Appeal

We were married in Gran's backyard in May.

And tonight, on Halloween, almost exactly a year after he first walked into my candle shop and accused me of setting the town on fire, we're tucked into bed while the last of the Halloween festivities wind down below us.

Spellbound had its busiest night ever. Valerie is still downstairs finishing up.

Gran, who is back for a visit, spent most of the evening telling customers increasingly outlandish stories about our family's history.

And Welles confiscated a plastic cauldron because someone tried to put a real candle inside it.

Some things never change.

The candle on my dresser flickers softly. Absinthe. Dark cherry wood. Amber. Black honey. Vanilla. Clove.

Our own Clove's ears twitch.

I smile.

The scent takes me back to that first night with Welles every time I light it. But tonight, there's something different about it. Or maybe something different about me.

I've been thinking about this for months. We've been talking about it almost as long.

But sometime today, surrounded by kids in costumes and families wandering through the shop, I realized I'm ready.

Really ready.

“Welles?”

“Hmm?”

I reach across him and close his book. He looks down at it. “I was reading that.”

“I know.”

“Okay.”

I take a breath. “I want to start trying.”

He goes still.

Clove lifts his head, annoyed that his bed has apparently stopped breathing.

Welles looks at me.

“For a baby?”

“No, another cat.”

His eyes narrow.

“Yes, for a baby.”

Now, he sets the book aside. “You're sure?”

I nod.

“I think so.”

“You think so?”