Page 38 of Fangs with Benefits

"Hello," I say with a smile. "Welcome."

She looks up at me with worried eyes, and that's when I notice she is wearing nothing but a thin T-shirt, ragged jeans and shoes with holes in the toes, in the dead of winter, which are bitter to the bone here in New York City. This poor woman isn't here for a reading or celestial guidance—she's simply here to bask in a moment of warmth and drive the chill out of her bones.

"Please, come in," I say. "I have a pot of tea brewing; would you like some?"

"I can't afford to pay for a tea leaf reading," she says. "I just came to browse for a minute if that's okay."

"Of course, it is." I smile. "Take your time."

I go ahead and fix her a cup of tea anyway, knowing that she probably would love one, and not for a tea leaf reading.

"Here you go," I say as I walk over and hand her the steaming cup. "On the house."

"Really?"

"Absolutely. It's freezing out there. Nothing better to warm you up than a hot cup of cinnamon and anise tea."

She takes the cup and thanks me, then holds both hands wrapped around it as she presses it to her chest. She's so cold that her fingertips and lips are blue.

"How do you know about tea leaf readings?" I ask. "Have you had one done before?"

"Yes, once when I was little," she answers as she begins to sip the hot tea. "My mother took me to a fortune teller who read tea leaves and told me that someday I would be a thriving artist. I loved to draw so much, and my mother probably told her that." The woman pauses for a moment and looks melancholy. "I guess she was wrong."

I'm not sure what to say so I just stand there beside her for a while and offer some company while she drink her tea. When she's finished, she thanks me again and leaves quickly before I have a chance to offer her any more help.

When the door to the shop opens again, I expect it to be the same woman, but it's Treyton. I'm pleasantly surprised to see him here.

"Okay," he says like he is bracing for my objections. "I know you don't want to read it, but I think it's time." He hands me the letter from the coven. "I can't keep walking past the coffee table and seeing it sitting there unopened, but I also can't throw it away. What if it's something important or you regret not reading it? It's time, Blair. Just open the letter."

I sigh and take it from him, sliding my finger under the seal and tearing it open. For a moment, I stand there reading it silently while Treyton anxiously awaits my reaction.

I'm expecting a scolding, most likely from Sybil, since she tends to speak for the others when they are too upset to handle things. But instead, it's a letter from Isla.

Dear Blair,

I'm sorry that I was so angry on the day you left. I know you probably think it was because I was mad that you didn't help in the kitchen with the potion, but the truth is that I knew you were going to leave. That's a story for another day.

I wanted to write you this letter to tell you that we are all happy for you. We are happy that you have found your own happiness, and that you have found love and purpose. And I wanted to write to tell you not to worry about the coven because we are doing just fine.

You are always welcome back here whenever, and if ever, you need us. Sybil, Elspeth, and I wish you the best of luck in your new life.

Always yours in sisterhood,

Isla

Tears fill my eyes and Treyton embraces me and starts to console me, until I tell him that the letter is a good one, and share what Isla wrote.

"This is it," I say as I smile and wipe the tears from my face with the back of my hand. "This is the final thing I needed to be truly free and happy."

He hugs me and we close up the shop early for the day to go home together. It's a nice, cold winter night and we can celebrate our new life together with a spiked hot chocolate sipped in front of the fireplace.

On our walk home, we pass a subway station and I just happen to look over to see a woman sitting curled up in the corner to hide from the bitter wind. It's the same woman who came into my shop, the one with nothing but the T-shirt, jeans, and shoes filled with holes.

"Hang on a second," I say as I pull my hand from Treyton's and walk over to her. Before he lets me go, he pulls a wad of cash from his pocket that he has just stolen from a very undeserving corporate acquisitions manager and shoves it into my hand.

"This is why I love you so much." I smile as I whisper to him.

"Because I'm so handsome?" he teases.