Page 89 of Witchful Thinking
“When did you get so wise?”
“I learned from the best.” Callie squeezed her hand.
“We’ll see this spell to the end. We’re all in,” Lucy said.
“All in,” Sirena and Callie echoed.
A calm washed over her like a slow wave. Lucy turned her thoughts inward. It was never the wish. It was her finding the courage to pursue the life she’d only dreamed about. She’d been sleepwalking through her life, but now she’d forced her eyes open to see the world and all its splendor. She’d been wading in puddles, safe from harm, but she was unsatisfied with shallow living. There was no way she could go back to living her life in fear.
She could sing. She could fail. Or she could live with a courageous heart.
If she admitted to making the wish, would she lose her nerve?
Would she lose the nerve to love Alex? There was only one way to find out, and she had one chance to be brave. She’d have to come clean with everyone in the Grove and herself.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Alex watched from the living room, arms crossed and jaw clenched, as potential buyers went in and out of his house. He felt like ants were crawling all over his skin, and he couldn’t knock them off. A single thought kept running through his mind. I don’t like strangers in my house. This morning he’d woken up and pressed his hand to the wall. It was cool to the touch, but there was a pulse of energy there that forced him to stand back. He should have canceled the open house visit, but he’d made a commitment to at least show off the cottage. Visitors tracked dirt in from outside. They touched his couch. They even scoffed at Lucy’s colors. Annoyance set fire to his blood at people giggling behind their pamphlets. One potential buyer, a pale man wearing a black turtleneck and wire-rimmed glasses, came and scanned the living room.
“Blue and orange,” he said with a slight sneer. He showed his fangs. “How sporty.”
Alex cleared his throat. The turtlenecked man snapped a sharp look at him.
“It’s tangerine and cobalt. It’s complementary,” Alex said forcefully. No one was going to diss their color scheme. They wanted to make it feel…like home. Alex glared at him.
The glasses man jolted, nodded to him, and went off into another room, shaking his head. Pop and Mom came into the house, wiping their feet on the mat. They shared the same look of displeasure as they took in the people moving throughout the house like ants on a hill. Horatio followed them, giving him a guarded look.
“Do I smell cookies?” Pop asked. He sniffed deeply and made a happy sound.
“The real estate agent put out some cookies,” Alex said.
“They’re free, right?”
“Pop, I guess so,” Alex said, suddenly tired. He wanted to get this whole thing over with and spendtime alone in his—home. Why did he keep using that word?
“It looks good, Alex.” Horatio glanced around. He took out his cell phone and snapped a few pictures. “You did good.”
“Yeah. It was all Lucy,” Alex mused. There wasn’t a single room that she hadn’t touched with her personal influence. She’d been there to pick out the coral-colored pillows, the secondhand lamps she’d showed him at the flea market, and the paint samples. She’d given this cottage another chance at life. He’d gotten the second chance he wished for. Now, he was on the verge of walking away.
Mom shook her head side to side. “This isn’t right. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be.”
“Kia, please,” Pop warned under his breath.
“You can’t sell your cottage! Where will you live?”
“I’ll find a place. I’ll be fine.”
He had to be fine. The cottage was going to be better off without him. Lucy would be better off without him.
“It’s not fine. Where will my grandbaby live?”
Alex’s face burned. Say what now? He stared down Mom. She slapped a hand over her mouth and slid a wide-eyed glance to Pop. He heard Horatio groan next to him.
“Excuse me. Repeat that again,” Alex said.
“Uh…” Mom looked to Pop for help.
“Leave me out of this. I’m going to get a snack,” Pop said. He gave a salute and went into the kitchen. Horatio followed him silently.