Page 55 of The Pumpkin Spice Spell
“Not to me. It only hurts me when you don’t say what you want to say and just leave.”
Later, Ivy shows up, hair in a ponytail, wearing a blazer that’s two sizes too big and sneakers with laces that don’t match. She drops her bag and slumps into the reading nook like a woman who has just finished hiking up a mountain.
“I swear to God,” she groans. “If I hear the words ‘charming curb appeal’ one more time, I will personally set the curb on fire.”
Willa laughs and slides her a cup of tea. “Rough day?”
“Someone made me explain what a water heater is. Another person asked if the ghosts wereincludedwith the house.” Shelifts her head, sees me. “Hi, Tate. I see you’re still pretending not to live here.”
“I’m working my way up to full-time squatter,” I say.
She lifts the tea in salute. “Solid plan.”
“Any buyers seriously interested?”
Ivy sighs and nods. “Yup. Lucky me.”
“You’re good at it, Ivy,” Willa says. “You really are.”
“I want to be walking a golden retriever named Pretzel right now,” Ivy mutters.
“Still time,” I say, glancing at my watch.
She snorts. “That’s the dream.”
We chat for a bit, light stuff. Ivy rants about real estate. Willa teases her. I stay quiet and soak in the laughter, the teasing, the rhythm of this strange little trio of women who’ve seen more than their share of heartbreak and still show up, anyway.
Eventually, Ivy heads out, grumbling about back-to-back showings tomorrow. The shop is quiet again.
Willa slides another book into place, then looks at me. “Thanks for helping.”
I shrug. “I like it here.”
Her smile is slow, steady. “I do, too.”
“Do you think Ivy will ever find what makes her happy?” I ask.
She nods. “Yes, I do. She’s been stuck with bozo Derek, who has led her on, used her, and it’s been hard to watch. Everyone saw it but her.”
We stay after closing, sorting the last of the books in the quiet. At one point, she sits on the floor, and I sit beside her. Neither of us moves.
“It’s weird,” she says softly. “Letting someone in like this. Not just in the store. In the quiet moments. In the places I don’t usually share.”
I don’t speak. I just reach over, slide my hand into hers.
She lets me. And that’s all the answer I need.
Chapter 17
Willa
The truth is, I still talk about you like you’re mine.
I catch myself…
and then I realize I need you to be mine again.
-Tate
