There was a little cardboard carrier resting on the counter, with two takeaway cups of coffee still gently steaming in it.

  Andre smiled. “Do you have time for a little break?”

  “Yes,” I answered, fervently, thinking I’d never needed a little break more than I did at that very moment. I needed that coffee, badly. I’d felt like I was dragging all day, and every time I started to relax, the memories of my nightmare would flare up again. Or a horrible customer would walk through my door.

  Andre put the cup of liquid heaven into my hands, and the first sip had my eyes fluttering closed. Only the fact that I would never, ever be able to face him again kept the embarrassing noises from spilling out of my throat.

  Between his Magician magic, and the caffeine, I was starting to actually feel human again. Or at least less likely to burst into tears if one more thing went wrong.

  “So,” Andre said, settling an elbow on the counter as he sipped at his own drink. “How is the planning going for the festival?”

  I had to swallow before answering. “Pretty good. We’ve got most things settled now. Oh! That was what I wanted to ask you.” I hastily put my cup down on the counter as I looked up at him and found those beautiful and deep blue eyes focused on me. There was a little smirk on his lips that suddenly seemed to be the sexiest thing I’d ever witnessed. God, did I have it bad.

  “Something you wanted to ask me?” he reminded me after a long lapse.

  “Oh, right... do you think it might be possible for you to do a short magic show at the festival? I’m still looking for a few entertainment acts to fill up a couple of blocks. I was thinking you could do it before the big bonfire.”

  “Oh.”

  I nodded. “It doesn’t have to be anything involved or difficult. I was just thinking something fun, while everyone is standing around, waiting for the fire to light. Maybe you could incorporate the bonfire lighting into the act? I mean, only if you want to, of course. Or... you could just—”

  “Poppy, take a breath.”

  I took a breath. “Or you could also just attend the festival and not perform,” I finished, in a mousy voice.

  He just looked at me and chuckled, his eyes full of warmth and mirth. When he reached out to take my hand, I let him. His fingers felt warm and when he wrapped them around mine, my heart started to pound. What was it about this man that made me feel like a teenager again?

  “You are quite adorable when you ramble.”

  “Was I rambling?” I asked, eyes going wide as I realized I was most definitely rambling. The flush that had been fading slammed back to life full force. “Oh, God, I was rambling.” I then did this weird, high-pitched laugh. “If you’re busy, or you just don’t want to perform, of course I understand.”

  “I would be delighted to.”

  The tension eased out of my shoulders, my own lips curling up. “Really?”

  “Of course,” he said, his tone warm as he looked down at me. “I have a few ideas, actually. Perhaps we could discuss them together—”

  “Oh, sure.”

  “—Over dinner.”

  “Oh.”

  “Say, Friday evening?”

  I sucked in a startled breath and swallowed hard for the nth time. “Oh.”

  Andre looked at me, searching my face. “Is that alright?”

  “Of course,” I started, but then dropped my gaze to the floor because I wasn’t sure if it was alright.

  You’re no good at relationships, I reminded myself. And you’ve already destroyed one friendship, so don’t destroy this one too.

  “Poppy?”

  I looked up at him. “Right. Sure. Dinner is... well, it’s fine.” But I didn’t sound like it was fine.

  “Am I misreading this?” Andre asked.

  “No,” I answered as I shook my head and took a few steps away from him, needing the space.

  “We haven’t really talked about what this is between us,” he continued. “I understand that it hasn’t been the right time, and I’m not trying to rush you, Poppy. But perhaps, it’s time now?”

  That one sentence, ‘what this is between us’, had butterflies taking flight in my stomach. Because just those few words told me that I wasn’t alone in whatever this was. The feeling like we’d known each other for years, that familiarity, the draw to be near him, it wasn’t just coming from me. It gave me hope that Andre felt it too. But along with the excitement was fear.

  Regardless, he was right. We did need to at least talk about it. It had been eight months since Marty and I had ended things, and while I was still scared about screwing up yet again, I was still hopeful.

  I really didn’t want to screw up again. And not just for myself, but for Finn. He adored Andre, and Andre was important to Finn’s future—to finding out just what it meant to be a Magician. And while I’d been really hesitant before, since getting involved with a traveling Magician sounded difficult and stressful, Andre had already decided to settle in Haven Hollow. And that had to mean something, right?

  The anxiety inside me was ramping up, a nervous buzzing like bees in the back of my head, but I shoved it aside. He was just asking for a conversation, that was all. We might decide to just be good friends, which would mean I was worrying about nothing.

  I tried to ignore the little sliver of disappointment that lodged itself into my heart at the thought of just being friends with this incredible man. Without even realizing what I was doing, I reached out my hand to him, only to find his strong fingers folding over mine. We’d reached for each other at exactly the same moment. Maybe it was a sign.

  “I’d like that,” I told him, and I meant it.

  Andre grinned, the skin at the corner of his eyes creasing. “Wonderful.”

  His hand was warm, and when he squeezed my palm, it sent little tingles shooting all the way up to my elbow.

  Inexplicably nervous, I wet my dry lips, and Andre’s gaze dropped to my mouth. The world seemed to hush, and anticipation coiled tightly in my chest as I watched him come closer. The breath caught in my throat as his eyes clouded over with an expression that looked a lot like someone about to kiss someone else.

  The door flew open then and two older ladies stepped inside, chatting brightly to each other, and the moment popped like a soap bubble.

  “You have customers,” Andre said as he immediately pulled away, dropped my hand, and cleared his throat. “I should be on my way, I suppose.”

  “Yeah,” I said, trying not to show how disappointed I was. “But I’ll see you the day after tomorrow?”

  Andre gave me a grin, walking backwards towards the door. “It’s a date.”

  Chapter Six

  Andre and I walked down Main Street as the fog lapped around our ankles.

  Everything was dark, and quiet, the street surprisingly empty. Usually, Haven Hollow’s downtown would be bustling on a summer evening. Or as bustling as a small, tourist town ever got, at least.

  “This fog makes it feel more like Halloween than Summer,” Andre said with a laugh. “Do you normally get fog in Haven Hollow?”

  I shook my head. “No, I’ve actually never seen fog this thick before.”

  Of course, it crossed my mind that maybe the fog was magic in nature, but there didn’t seem to be anything suspicious about it. Sometimes nature just threw you a curve ball, I figured.

  When we passed Poppy’s Potions for the third time, I realized that we’d just been going in circles, but I couldn’t bring myself to mind. It was nice just to be with him. The two of us, wandering aimlessly. The fog made everything seem soft and quiet, like we really were just off in our own little world.

  A dull red light flickered in the windows of Sweeter Haunts, looking like flames, but when I frowned and checked again, it was just the street light hitting a display of candies wrapped in gold foil.

  I shook off my nerves, feeling silly. What was there to worry about? And why was I so paranoid? Not finding an answer, I glanced up at Andre, only to find him looking at me.

  “Can I hold your hand?” he asked.

  “Of course,” I answered, feeling awkward, like we were two teenagers on our very first date. When he took my hand, I reveled in the feeling of how well we seemed to fit together. Like the final two pieces missing in a puzzle.

  There was something off, though. The feeling that I’d forgotten something nagged at me, keeping me from being able to fully enjoy the evening. I frowned, trying to remember what that thing was.

  Andre must have felt my unease, because he stopped and turned so that we were now facing each other. “What’s wrong, Poppy?”

  “I…I’m not sure.” The fog lapped a little higher. I could feel it, cool against my calves, pressing against the fabric of my jeans. “I just have this strange feeling that I forgot something.”

  Andre just patted my arm and started forward again.

  When we passed my shop for the fourth time, there was an old leather-bound book leaning in the front window where my display of sun protection and insect repelling potions should have been. It was a beat-up old thing, the spine cracked in two places, pages all but falling out. The tattered red ribbon bookmark was limp against the shelf, and for some reason that made a little ball of ice form in the pit of my stomach.

  Ouire.

  I sucked in a breath, feeling cold down to my toes as the answer dawned on me and my stomach dropped. Finn. I was supposed to pick Finn up after school. I was hours late! The sky was dark, for heaven’s sake! How could I have forgotten my son?

  Andre watched impassively as I fumbled my phone out of my coat pocket, and my heart sank when it alerted me that I had dozens of missed calls and text messages.

  “Mom, I’m waiting out front,” Finn’s first message read.

  The second one, Finn again. “Mom, where are you? Is everything okay?”

  How could I not have picked up my son? How could I have forgotten?

  “I have to go,” I gasped, the first hot tears streaming down my cheeks.

  My hands felt clumsy as I tried to dial the phone, the numbers wouldn’t hold still long enough for me to hit them. I had to call Finn, to tell him I was on my way—to ask him where I should pick him up and to tell him how sorry I was. How could I have forgotten him?

  A sob caught in my chest and I shot upright in bed, my sheets tangled around my legs. My chest heaved, tears still leaking from my eyes. The room was dark, not even a sliver of moonlight coming in through the window. The tiniest flicker of orange light from the sheltered tea light in the diffuser was the only bright spot in the room, and the dancing flame just made my panic spike higher.

  It actually took me a few seconds to realize that it had all been a terrible dream. I couldn’t stop myself from jumping out of bed and hurrying into the hallway to crack the door to Finn’s bedroom open.

  Finn was sleeping soundly, his mouth open a little to drool on his pillow. He looked younger when he was asleep, his face relaxed, and seeing him there, right in front of me, finally helped to calm my racing pulse.

  Thank God it was just a nightmare. Thank God none of it was real.

  I closed the door as quietly as I could, and almost sagged to the floor.

  Finn was okay. I hadn’t left him somewhere, forgotten and abandoned. He was fine, tucked into his bed, safe and sound.

  The guilt still dragged at me, like barbed wire around my heart.

  After a few long minutes, I managed to stumble my way back to my room, but I knew sleep would elude me—if not for the rest of the night, then at least for the next couple of hours.

  The scent of lavender lingered on the air like a ghost, courtesy of the wax melt I’d popped into my diffuser earlier. The wax was now reduced to a golden puddle in the top basin, the tea light I’d left burning to keep it warm was holding out surprisingly well for something so small.

  Normally for Dreamtime Oil, I would have anointed a candle and left it to burn through the night, guaranteeing me a peaceful rest. It was just, after all the nightmares I’d been having, I hadn’t been able to leave a candle burning unattended through the night. What if the dreams were some kind of warning or premonition?

  Foresight wasn’t one of my gifts, but with all the wonky things that had been going on with my magic ever since I’d joined the coven, I wasn’t willing to risk Finn’s or my safety, or our home, just in case the dream was more than just the mutterings of an anxious subconscious.

  So, I’d added some of my Dreamtime Oil to a little bit of wax and popped it into the diffuser. The oil had always helped me to have a good night’s sleep, keeping my dreams sweet and easy, or just velvety darkness until I opened my eyes in the morning. I didn’t know what had gone wrong this time. Maybe I’d gotten the potion wrong? Or something had changed when I’d added it to the wax?

  I stumbled into the bathroom to splash some cool water onto my face to wash away the sticky tear tracks still clinging to my skin. Yeah, there was no way I was getting back to sleep. Even glancing at my bed had that same nauseating blend of panic and guilt that had swamped me in the nightmare, and the idea of lying down again made my heart pound.

  I figured I may as well get up and do something productive. I still had a few supplies at the farmhouse that I could use to get some work done. It wouldn’t be much, but anything was better than empty shelves and no stock. With any luck, my emergency order would arrive later in the day and I’d be able to make what I needed, both for the shop and the festival.

  I got dressed quickly in my comfiest sweats and a Christmas sweatshirt before heading downstairs. It was a sweatshirt Marty had given me, but I tried not to think about that.

  And I made sure to blow out the tea light before I left the room.

  After debating outside my closed bedroom door for a minute, I ducked back inside and took the little candle downstairs with me, just in case.

  Chapter Seven

  I was shoulder deep inside a cardboard box when the newly repaired bell over the door chimed, and I had to fight back a frustrated groan.

  It wasn’t that I wasn’t grateful that the store was having a busy day, not at all. It was just that the order I’d been waiting on had finally come in. But I still had to sort through it all, and make sure everything I needed was there. Not something easily done with a store full of customers. Not to mention the enormous list of potions I had to start brewing for the store, and for the festival, and on top of all of that, I had yet another list of personalized orders to make for customers who’d come in and pre-ordered while the shelves were bare.

  Unfortunately, it seemed like every time I started to make any kind of headway, another customer would come in needing attention. And I’d have to slap on a smile and see if I could help them, or if they were just looking.

  I’d just finished up helping a lady who’d lost a battle with a stubborn rose bush. She ended up purchasing a potion infused bandage that would speed up the healing of the dozen stinging little cuts in her left hand. Just as I was ringing her up, my phone rang and Finn’s name popped up on the call display.

  It was barely lunchtime, and it was odd for Finn to call me from school. With my bad dream still lingering in my thoughts, I said a quick goodbye to the lady and immediately answered Finn’s call.

  “What is it, what’s wrong?” I tried to keep the low drum of panic out of my voice, but I was clutching my phone case hard enough that the plastic creaked.

  “Hey, Mom,” Finn said, in a relaxed voice that was very different from the tense, unhappy one from my nightmare—so much so that I actually managed a shaky breath of relief. “Is it okay if I go to Marty’s after school? We were going to play video games, and I forgot to ask you this morning before school.”

  I sagged against the counter, letting it take my weight. That was another thing to be relieved about. Finn and Marty, in spite of everything, had kept up their friendship. And that was something I was really grateful for. And I think Marty was too because despite their age difference, Finn and he were pretty close. Maybe because, at heart, Marty was a big kid. It was one of the things I liked best about him, and I’d loved it that he genuinely enjoyed Finn’s company.

  “Of course,” I told Finn, feeling lighter than before. “Just make sure you’re home for dinner.”

  “Okay, thanks, Mom,” he said before hanging up.

  I slipped my phone back into my pocket, glad I hadn’t let the ‘Say hi to Marty for me’ that had been on the tip of my tongue slip free. Marty had asked for space, and I was going to give it to him. If he was reaching out to Finn, then that was awesome. And if that was as much as he could do for a while, well, it was something.

  I swallowed the lump in my throat, blinking to clear my eyes. I missed Marty, missed my friend. But I kept that sadness to myself, because whatever he needed from me, I was going to give him.

  Between customers and sorting the shipment from an unfamiliar supply company, I lost all track of time. When I finally glanced at my phone again, I realized I was going to have to pack up and go if I had any chance of getting home and making some kind of dinner for Finn and myself. Just as I was reaching for my coat and keys and looking around in dismay at how much work there was still left to do, my phone buzzed in my hand.

  Finn had sent me a text. Is it ok if I stay for dinner? We’re ordering pizza, followed by a bunch of pizza emojis, and one of a person drooling.

  Guilt wrestled with gratitude, but gratitude won. If Finn had plans for dinner, it meant I could stay at the store and try to power through some of the backlog.

  So, I sent Finn a text telling him that was fine.

  Another one buzzed through about four seconds later. Cool. Marty says he’ll drive me home later.

  I let out a breath, and sent him back a thumbs up emoji. I was glad they were having a good time, and it did help me out. I still had so much to do. But I’d miss having dinner with Finn. Lately it felt like that was the only time we saw each other.

  A couple hours later, and I was standing in the center of an absolute mess. My hair had long since started to fall out of the bun I’d pulled it back into, blond strands hanging in my face while I tried to reconcile all the lists I had and the shipping inventory.