Page 110 of Fairy Godmothers Aren't Cheap

Homey could mean having someone at your side for both the fun and the work, similar to what Mrs. Laven had told me. It was having someone easy to love, no matter what the day brought you or where you were. Homey, but with a slice of serendipity.

“I want someone who is happy wherever she is, and no matter what she is doing.”

“Nobody is happy all the time,” I said absently.

“I know. But some people find fun where they are, and if they aren’t enjoying themselves, they change gears. I’m just looking for a woman that I get along with. Someone I can have fun with, no matter what our days bring us.”

My hands were shaking. As terrifying as it was, we wanted the same thing. Homey didn’t mean a 1950s housewife to either of us.

It meant…us.

As we were.

But I didn’t have the lifelong example of a healthy relationship to model after like he did. I didn’t know how to resolve a fight or keep things spicy. I wasn’t sure I could live up to our current dream or that, over time, I wouldn’t fall short.

“I don’t know how to do this,” I whispered, unable to look at him.

He pulled me to my feet, drawing me to his side of the table and into his lap, where he wrapped his arms around my waist. “It looks like today. It looks like friendship. It looks like love and commitment. Kindness and trust, as well as compassion for each other.”

My heart was hiccuping. I wanted all of that so desperately.

He tenderly kissed me, whispering. “That’s the secret. The real magic to making it work.”

I nodded, sniffing back tears. It felt doable, even though I’d consistently been pulling away and reserving a piece of my heart. Even though my wishes had nudged this relationship ball into rolling on false pretences.

I wanted things to be messy and real, and without my wishful interference. I might not get that, but I had right now. I had this moment along with many others. And I could hope that enough of them were real, and that James truly knew who I was, and that he would still love me even when he was no longer looking at me through the lacy gauze of a magical spell.

CHAPTER41

~ Char ~

Iwoke up with one of my many park lists stuck to my cheek. I yanked it off my face and squinted at the morning light blinding me, trying to figure out where I was.

The Backstrohm’s kitchen.

Did I have work today?

Was James still in love with me? Or had Estelle finally taken him away?

There was someone in the house. My heart thundered, and I clutched the edge of the table, listening, ready to bolt in the opposite direction of the scuffling sound.

“Char?” a male voice called.

It was James. I sagged into my seat. “In here.” I scrubbed my hands down my face and tried to wake up.

I swivelled in my chair, waiting for him to appear in the doorway. Moments later, there he was, fresh-faced and as handsome as ever. My heart lifted as he came over to kiss me.

He still liked me.

I smoothed my shirt, then wiped my fingers under my eyes in case my mascara had travelled in the night.

“Did you sleep here?” He took a chair close to me, swinging it around to sit backward on it, studying my rumpled appearance. It was way too early in our relationship for him to see me like this, especially when he looked fresh, as though he’d been up for hours and was having the best day of his life.

Then again, we were doing this. We were doing real. And right now I was a very real mess and completely me. I snatched him by the hand and tugged him closer. Catching what I wanted, he leaned in, letting me kiss him again. Slowly, wonderfully. He pulled me to my feet, wrapping me in his arms, angling his jaw to deepen the kiss. Someone once told me there was always space between particles or matter. I didn’t believe it. Or at least I didn’t want to. I wanted no space between me and this man.

When we broke apart, I asked, “Want coffee?”

James was grinning, and he had sort of a wired, bouncy energy, like he’d already had seven cups.

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