“You did?”

  He nodded. “I did and I’m pleased to say it’s doing quite well.”

  My heart sank, but I kept my smile in place, even as I asked myself why Andre putting down roots in Portland bothered me so much. I just couldn’t understand why here and not Haven Hollow? What had made him leave the Hollow for Portland? It seemed kind of an odd choice him settling here, especially when Haven Hollow was an ideal place for a magic store. Not only that, but we didn’t have a magic shop.

  He took another sip of coffee, his eyes searching my face. “What about you? Where are you living now?”

  “Oh, I’m still in Haven Hollow,” I answered quickly.

  “Still running the potion shop?”

  I nodded. “The shop is doing really well.” At least, I assumed it was. It had looked fairly prosperous even if I was still worried about the fact that I’d stopped being able to brew some of my famous recipes.

  “And you said Finn is coming home from university for Christmas?”

  I nodded. “I’m just in town to pick him up.”

  That got a more genuine smile out of Andre, the corners of his eyes crinkling up. “That’s wonderful. He comes to visit me sometimes.”

  “He does?” I asked, the shock and surprise dripping into my tone.

  “Yes,” Andre nodded and his smile seemed sad again. “Mostly when dream walking. We haven’t really spoken lately, though—I suppose he’s just busy with his studies. I’m glad to know he’s doing well—he’s such a talented and exceptional young man.”

  That made me falter, and I grabbed my coffee to buy myself time to respond.

  Andre hadn’t heard from Finn? What did that mean? Had Finn given up on being a Magician? Hmm, it didn’t seem so—not if Finn was visiting Andre in his dreams. Once upon a time, Andre had volunteered to be Finn’s teacher, and he’d been planning to move to Haven Hollow to do it. Well, before he’d been called back to Portland. So, what could have changed that would make them only speak occasionally now? Surely Finn couldn’t have mastered every trick in the Magician’s Grimoire (known as ‘Ouire’) in just a couple of years?

  My son might be something of a magical prodigy, but no one was that good. At least, I didn’t think they were.

  How on earth was I going to ask Andre about it though? Or Finn, for that matter?

  Finally, after a few more minutes of painfully light small talk, I just bit the bullet and decided to start in on the heavier subjects.

  “So,” I started, as casually as I could. “What made you decide to move to Portland? You seemed so ready to settle in Haven Hollow.”

  Andre, who had just been about to take a sip of his coffee, set his mug down instead. There was a pause so long and so awkward that I desperately wished I’d just minded my own business. Andre’s gaze fell to the white tablecloth, and he seemed almost anxious as he traced the floral embroidery with his index finger.

  Finally, he looked up at me and gave me an apologetic smile. “Well.” He cleared his throat, an expression passing over his face that I would have almost called ‘rueful’. “I suppose it was… shortly after you’d gotten engaged to Marty.”

  “Oh?” I started, swallowing hard as my heart started to pound in earnest again.

  He nodded. “I just couldn’t seem to bear to be in the Hollow, after that.”

  I stared at him in surprise, not sure what to say. Something inside my chest gave a painful twist as I wondered if Andre’s words meant what I thought they’d meant. I didn’t know what kind of expression I was making, but it must have been something, because Andre made a little aborted reach for my hand.

  “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I don’t want to upset you.”

  “No,” I answered immediately and glanced down as I watched myself reach for him. I wrapped my fingers around his hand and was surprised by the warmth of him. “You haven’t upset me.”

  He nodded and then breathed in deeply as he shook his head. “It was my own fault, really.”

  I looked up at him, painfully aware of how he turned his hand around and closed his fingers around mine. “What was your fault?”

  “Never having the courage to speak up. Never having the courage to tell you how I felt,” he answered and there was a fire in his eyes and his words. “It’s one of those things I most regret, Poppy.”

  I couldn’t have spoken even if I’d known what to say. My throat felt too tight, like all my emotions had gotten tangled up in a messy knot.

  Andre smiled, but it was sad, almost wistful.

  “I… I don’t know what to say,” I managed finally, shaking my head as I breathed in deeply and told myself not to cry, even as I could feel the tears threatening. “I always thought… the feelings I had… that I was the only one feeling them.”

  Andre immediately shook his head then, and an almost angry smile overtook his mouth. “No, you weren’t the only one.” He looked at me and sighed. “Certainly not.” Then he took a deep breath. “I knew… I always knew but the truth… well, I suppose it frightened me.”

  “You knew… what?”

  “Who you were,” he answered on a laugh.

  “Who I was?” I was confused.

  He nodded and then took another deep breath, as if he were refueling his courage. “From the moment I first walked up to you, when you were about to drop all your potions and I froze them in the air, only to drop them for you,” he started on a laugh and I joined in as I remembered the moment. “From the exact second I laid eyes on you, Poppy, I felt… this… connection. I can’t rightly explain it, but it feels as if I’ve known you forever.”

  “I always felt that too.”

  “Even beyond this life,” he continued, sighing again. “As if it was my soul that recognized yours.” Then he shook his head and chuckled. “I know this sounds utterly bonkers.”

  “No,” I insisted as I squeezed his hand even harder than he was squeezing mine. “It doesn’t. Because I know exactly what you’re talking about.”

  He nodded and then glanced down at our hands as if he was only now noticing them. “I just couldn’t stay in Haven Hollow when I realized you were meant to marry someone else,” he continued, his voice deep and small. He inhaled deeply and shook his head as his eyes met mine again. His appeared even sadder than they had before. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to upset you…” he continued as he, no doubt, saw the sheen of tears reflecting in my eyes. “I just… perhaps I just needed to get this off my chest. Even if it is too late.” He smiled at me then and I was sure the smile I gave him in return was just as sad. “I wish I had told you how I felt all those years ago.”

  I managed to force my voice out past the tightness of my throat. It came out thin and a little wobbly. “I wish you had, too.”

  Then, in a motion that seemed completely out of sync, he pushed aside his half-finished coffee, clearing his throat as he stood up from the table. It was almost as if the chair or my hand had bitten him. He gave me a strange expression before checking the clock on the wall. “I’ve kept you long enough, Poppy,” he said with a laugh that I was more than sure he couldn’t feel. “I know you have to get to the station. I do hope you will give my best to Finn?”

  “Yes, yes of course,” I answered as I glanced up at the clock and was amazed to see that an hour had gone by. It had felt more like fifteen minutes. I stood as well and watched Andre pause after he’d pulled his coat and scarf back on, his hands tucked into his pockets.

  “I am so pleased I was able to run into you today, Poppy.”

  I felt like I was going to lose the battle with my tears and just managed to nod as I said, “Me too.”

  “Well, goodbye, Poppy. It was really lovely to see you.” He managed a small smile, just a slight curve at the corners of his lips. “And Happy Christmas.”

  Before I could come up with any kind of reply, he was gone.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  I sat at the bakery table for a long time after Andre left.

  My coffee was cold as people came and went, laughing, chatting, and stomping their feet against the cold outside.

  I barely noticed them.

  Instead, I stared at my left hand, at the place where my wedding rings were supposed to be. Strangely, ever since I’d taken them off, that feeling of frosty coldness had disappeared. And even more strangely, Andre hadn’t remarked about their absence—especially when he’d been holding that hand so he must have noticed…

  He was probably just too polite to comment.

  Thoughts about my rings and Andre not noticing them then led to thoughts about Marty and our marriage and I could feel that cloud of doubt pressing down on me—just the same as it had been from the moment Marty had popped the question at my Thanksgiving table.

  I didn’t know what to do.

  I loved Marty; I knew I did.

  But I also knew I wasn’t in love with him.

  And with this little trip into the future, it was pretty apparent those feelings or lack thereof wouldn’t change. Oh, sure, we were comfortable together, we always had been. And it appeared that we’d settled in together like a house sinking into its foundation.

  But there was no spark, no romance.

  We might be partners and the best of friends, but we didn’t feel like a couple.

  Marty was definitely the safe choice. The life I saw laid out in front of me was a good one, even. Companionable. Comfortable. Fun. That was more than a lot of people had. But, I wondered as I stared unhappily down at the table, was I content with that? Was companionable, comfortable, and fun… was that enough for me?

  Thinking back to the love potions in my store, I had a sneaking suspicion regarding why future me was having such a hard time brewing them. Love and intimacy potions required passion, and you couldn’t put into magic what you, yourself, didn’t feel. That could only mean one thing—that marrying Marty would equate to a lack of passion—a lack of desire in my life. Did I want to sign up for that?

  When Andre had blown into Haven Hollow, he’d seemed like an impossible dream. A Magician who traveled the country, helping people, saving them really, bringing hope to the hopeless. It was all very exciting, but I wasn’t twenty. I was a forty-something mom, and Finn and I were settled in Haven Hollow—we were happy there, building a life together. And even if Andre did have feelings for me, he still wasn’t a safe bet—he didn’t even have a solid home, for Pete’s sake!

  But I still couldn’t help the feelings I had for him.

  It was somehow better and worse at the same time, knowing that he’d always felt the same way.

  And while it certainly seemed like things might have worked out differently, if Andre and I had ever actually had a conversation about how we felt about each other, there was still no guarantee that such a conversation would have actually changed anything. Even if we’d both confessed what was truly in our hearts, there was no assurance that we’d have ended up together. Or that Andre wouldn’t have packed up and left the Hollow for whatever reason.

  Fate was funny like that. Fickle. You might see your path ahead, and think you were headed down a certain road, only to end up in a totally different place, all the while wondering—how in the world did I end up here?

  All told, Marty was always the safer choice. He was still the safer choice.

  We’d built a home together, shared our lives and, from what I could tell, we were happy or happy enough.

  Was that what I wanted, though? Was ‘happy enough’ going to sustain me for the rest of my life?

  The thought kept nagging at me, nipping at my heels like a badly trained dog. I finally grabbed my coat and left that bakery in the center of downtown Portland, completely forgetting my cookies. I only realized as much once I was halfway down the block and then I was too embarrassed to turn back for them—or maybe I just didn’t want to return to the scene where I’d realized the choices I’d made weren’t necessarily the ones I should have...

  I just needed to walk, to clear my head.

  My wandering eventually brought me to a city park that was across from the bus station. Finn’s bus still wasn’t due to arrive for another hour but I figured I could busy myself by watching children and their parents ice skating in an impromptu ice rink that had been set up over a frozen pond. The space was crowded with families, people drinking hot chocolate while Christmas carols belted out from the tinny speakers.

  I settled down on one of the park benches so I could watch the people skating by. The wood was cold underneath me, and I kept my hands tucked into my pockets to keep them warm. It was adorable to watch all the little kids skating in their brightly colored snowsuits. The littlest ones looked like starfish, their puffy jackets holding their arms and legs out to the side. Some teens streaked by, kicking up a wave of frost in their wake, while an older couple, their gray heads bent together, glided by serenely.

  My eyes caught on a couple with a small boy, his blond curls just barely peeking out from below his wool hat. They each held one of his hands as he slowly, determinedly, inched his way around the pond. His little tongue poked out in concentration as he shuffled his feet forward. Of course, the child reminded me of Finn at that age—they both had the same white-blond hair and pink cheeks.

  From the wide smiles on their faces, both parents were encouraging him as he picked his way forward. While I watched, they shared a glance over their son’s head, and the father leaned forward to steal a quick kiss from his wife.

  I turned away, a little pang running through my chest.

  How different my life had turned out. When you’re a little girl, you think Prince Charming will come riding up on his white steed to take you away to your own Happily Ever After. But then in adulthood, you come to realize that all of that is just a pipe dream.

  Only if you marry the wrong man.

  The thought interjected itself into my brain like the blade of a knife and even though the voice was my own, it still felt foreign.

  I breathed in deeply and forced myself to pay attention to the scene around me—I just couldn’t face my own thoughts at the moment. Across the way, a young woman was sitting on a bench like mine and looked like she was having an even worse day than I was. She was huddled into her coat, obviously miserable, and I was pretty sure the red in her nose and cheeks was from crying, not just the nipping cold.

  My mom instincts raised their head as I wondered what in the world could have happened that would have made this young woman so upset. No one should be alone on a park bench crying on Christmas Eve. Was she okay? Did she need help? I was getting ready to stand, to try and come up with some excuse to walk over and check on her, when a young man walked up to her and sat down beside her.

  It took a minute for the girl to even notice he was there, and then she seemed a little embarrassed that someone was witnessing her sadness, but the young man just smiled and struck up what looked like a casual conversation with her and pretty soon she was smiling and a second later, a laugh bubbled up and out of her.

  I was still debating walking over to make sure everything was okay, but something held me in place on my bench. I couldn’t hear what they were talking about since they were too far away, and the sounds of the people skating were too loud. But as I watched, some life crept back into the girl’s face. After a few minutes, the young man actually had her laughing out loud.

  She’d just looked so unhappy, huddled there in her misery, that the quick turnaround caused my eyes to narrow in suspicion. Especially since it had felt a lot like the two of them were strangers when the young man had first sat down. Watching them now, I started paying closer attention, and as I focused on the pair, I could actually see what was happening.

  There were little glimmers of magic working around the young man as he spoke to the girl, unpicking the shadows that hung over her like a shroud. With every word he spoke, she looked a little lighter, a little brighter, less dragged down by whatever was bothering her.

  The magic wasn’t a type I was familiar with, but just watching the young man work brought a smile to my face. What kind of supernatural was he, to stop and help a stranger feel better on Christmas Eve?

  It wasn’t that supernatural folk were bad people who wouldn’t do a thing like this, but they tended to be pretty insular. They stuck to their own groups, or to the Hollows, and tended to mind their own business so as not to draw too much attention to themselves, and here was this young man who was weaving his magic right out in the open, though to be fair, no mundanes would be able to spot it. I was fairly sure I was the only one who really knew what was going on.

  The magic was clearer to me when I didn’t look directly at it, so I took darting glances out of the corner of my eye, trying to place where I might have seen it before. The young man wasn’t a warlock, that kind of magic was pretty darn familiar to me after joining Wanda’s coven.

  He wasn’t Fae, either. I’d had far too much exposure to faerie magic in recent months to not be able to identify it. So what was he? It was a mystery.

  Whatever he was though, the young man’s power was strong. He had a light touch, but I could feel the effervescence of his abilities against my senses, like some of my fizzier potions.

  After another minute or so, he said his goodbyes to the young woman on the bench and stood. With his chin tucked down into the collar of his coat, he picked his way through the park, heading in my direction. His head down and his hands in his pockets, I couldn’t see much of him other than the blond hair tossed around his face by the wind.

  It wasn’t until he drew closer and lifted his head to smile at me that I recognized him. And then I sucked in a sharp breath, tears pressing against the corners of my eyes as my heart kicked into overdrive, so full I felt like it might actually burst.

  He smiled at me, wide, beloved, and so, so familiar.

  Finn.

  My son, all grown up and fully come into his power. The magic of a full-blown Magician hung over him like a cloak, brightening the day around him, just as he’d brightened that young woman’s day.