Page 23 of Magic & Matchmaking
Just trying to figure out how to navigate my fake relationship after that kiss last night. A kiss that had rocked me to my core. I’d spent all day thinking about it, reliving it over and over. I was torn between wanting to do it again and wanting to run as far from Riven as I could.
I’d seen him briefly today. He’d come in, given me a chaste kiss on the cheek, and then said he had plans for the day so he wouldn’t be around. Now I knew what those plans were. He was probably resting and preparing for his show.
The smells of ale and honey butter filled the air as we entered and walked down a short hallway until we emerged into the main room of the tavern. Booths filled one side, tables populating the middle, and a long bar top spread across the other wall with bar stools tucked underneath.
Draven Darkstone stood behind the counter, serving up frosted mugs of ale while Riven walked through the tavern, strumming his lute and singing one of his newer songs, a tale about a witch who was sent by a king to kill a monster terrorizing the king’s kingdom.
Layla was about to sit at a table in the front, but I grabbed her arm. “Let’s sit over there.” I pointed at a booth tucked into the corner. We made our way toward it, settling in.
The strap of Riven’s lute looped around his shoulder and across his chest, his chest that I had my hands on just last night. He strummed the instrument effortlessly, walking from table to table as patrons clapped, cheered, and interacted when he came near. His thick black hair gleamed, not a single strand out of place, and every time he smiled, his dimples appeared.
“Wow, he’s really talented.”
“Hm?” I said. I’d forgotten anyone else was here for a moment, so lost in Riven and his music.
“Are you okay?” Layla bit her lip. “You seem off tonight.” She looked at Riven. “Is there something wrong with you and Riven?”
“No,” I said quickly. The last thing I needed were rumors spreading that we’d broken up.
A young woman walked up to us, hair dark and short. She folded her hands in front of the apron she wore over her green dress. “What can I get for you two?”
I wasn’t sure I wanted to drink ale. I’d tasted it a few times, but it was so sour and bitter.
“How about apple ale?” Layla shot me a questioning look. “It’s a new sweeter drink Draven has been tinkering with. I think you might like it...” Her words trailed off, her voice growing quiet toward the end like she wasn’t sure she should’ve suggested it.
“And some bread and butter?” I added.
The barmaid nodded and hurried away to another table of witches waving to get her attention.
“I hope you don’t mind that I ordered for you.” Layla looked down at the table. “It just seemed like you didn’t know what to get for yourself.”
“I guess I don’t get out very much,” I admitted. “Between running my father’s business and caring for him, I’m not very social.” I tucked a curl behind my ear.
“Mr. Thorne seems to be doing good on his own,” Layla offered.
Riven swiveled around, starting up a more lively tune that had everyone tapping their feet and clapping along as his voice rang out.
“Yes, I agree,” I said absently, stomach clenching tight.
“Are you sure you’re alright?” Layla asked, gaze bouncing between me and Riven. “I don’t want to pry, but you’ve been distracted since we got here, and every time you look at Riven, you’re frowning.”
At that, all my feelings bubbled up at once. “Riven and I are in a fake relationship,” I burst out. “It was Morty’s idea, a way to get the tea shop to accept me. Everything has been going well, but then last night after everyone left he kissed me, and now I’m having all these confusing feelings that I cannot be having because Riven isn’t really my boyfriend, and he’s going to be leaving again soon, so it wouldn’t work anyway. Not that I’m assuming he would even want to be in a relationship with me. Not when we’re friends.”
Layla stared at me with wide eyes.
I groaned and sunk my head into my arms. “That was a lot. I’m sorry.”
“No.” Layla put her hand on my arm, and I lifted my head. “Do you have real feelings for him?”
Riven and I had been friends for as long as I could remember, and I’d never thought about him as anything other than that until we’d gone away to the Coven Institute. The more time we’d spent together, the more I began to see him in a different light. The more I began to see a future with him.
“We almost kissed once,” I admitted. “A decade ago while we attended the institute.”
“What happened?” Layla leaned forward.
Two tankards of golden ale floated down on our table, followed by a loaf of dark bread and smooth honey butter. I grabbed a chunk, dunking it in the smooth butter and popping it in my mouth.
“I liked him,” I said miserably. It wasn’t something I’d ever admitted out loud. That I’d barely even admitted to myself. It would be like cutting open a wound that I’d stitched closed, and I couldn’t bear the thought of it. “I think he might have liked me, too, but I don’t know because we never talked about it. We were just about to kiss, then a carrier pigeon had burst in through the door, a letter clutched in its little talons. My father had suffered a heart attack. I left immediately to come home.”
