A Breath of Magic (15 page)

I swore. After not hearing so much as a peep from him the entire weekend, I’d begun to believe that Elizabeth’s wish had fixed everything. Apparently not. I gave Paige her check and worked to keep my voice steady. “He didn’t bring flowers again, did he?”

“No, but…he seems kind of angry. We were talking and…” She slicked her hands down the front of her skirt. “Should I send him back?”

“Yeah. Go ahead.” I knew, after my intimate weekend with Ben, that even if everything with him exploded in my face, I would never be happy with a man who didn’t make me feel as alive as Ben did. So at least my lingering doubts regarding Kyle were gone. Now I just had to remove his own so that
he
could be happy.

I stood in the open doorway, watching him approach. I gestured for him to come in and closed the door tightly behind us. “I’m glad to see you,” I said softly. “I was hoping we’d have a chance to talk.”

“I have one question,” he said. “Did you use magic on me to make me say yes to your proposal?”

“Wh-what? Where did that come from?” Stupid question. This had Grandma Verda’s name written all over it. I just wished she’d given me a heads-up. So I could’ve had some semblance of an appropriate response ready.

“Just answer the question, Chloe.” He narrowed his eyes. “Is. It. True?”

Fisting my hands, I nodded. “Yes, it’s true. But you’ve never believed in anything supernatural or metaphysical, so what…what did Verda say to make you believe?”

“She brought me cookies. ‘Magic cookies,’ she said. I told
her I didn’t want them, and she started talking crazy—said you’d cursed me, and that I needed to eat the cookies to undo part of the curse.”

“And that was enough?” I pushed out a squeaky laugh. “Verda has some…odd ideas.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought, but I ate a cookie anyway. Then, over the weekend, I gave it a lot of thought and realized something.” He shot me a look that dared me to argue. When it became apparent that I wasn’t going to, he continued. “I’ve thought more about you since the night you proposed than I have for the entire time we dated. Like an addiction I can’t get rid of. Is that just a coincidence?”

“It’s not as if I gave you a love potion or anything. It was just a little spell that was supposed to relax your fears about commitment. But”—I swallowed—“it seems I spelled you twice, and that’s why you’re so…um…dead set on us being together.” Oh, did Verda have a thing or two to hear from me. I’d done her a favor. A freaking huge favor. One her granddaughters wouldn’t even do, and how did she repay me? By ratting me out!

“Say I believe this, and I’m not saying for sure that I do, but pretend I believe. Can you fix it?”

“Yes. Or…I think I can, anyway. You say you ate the cookies?”

He glowered at me but didn’t speak. Then he nodded.

“Have they helped at all? Do you feel any different? Maybe everything is already fixed, but you’re thinking too much about it so you haven’t realized. Is that possible, Kyle?”

Crossing his arms, he stared me down. “I’m standing here and all I can think about is how I can get you to agree to marry me. But I know I’m not in love with you. Does that sound like whatever the hell was in those cookies worked?”

“N-no. Not at all.” I sucked in a lungful of air. “Let’s do this…So, um, close your eyes. I don’t want you to see this. It might, uh, freak you out a little.”

“You’re serious? You want me to close my eyes?”

“I’m not going to beat you over the head or anything. I just…well, I’ll have an easier time doing it if you’re not staring at me. Okay?”

“Whatever.” He grumbled and frowned and his entire body tightened, but he did as I asked. “Just hurry up. I’m late for work.”

Nervousness whisked through me, but I centered my thoughts and focused on my breathing. I thought about Kyle, about how much I cared about him, about how important he was to me, but that I knew we weren’t right for each other and that I wanted to set him free so that he could find the person—whoever, wherever she was—who was right for him. I envisioned him locked in a cage, one that I’d built with magic through my misguided emotions and wants, and then I imagined the bars melting to the ground and disappearing. When I saw this clearly, I reached deep inside and grabbed my magic. It switched on, fast and furious, alive and potent, whipping through me, feeding off of my thoughts, off of the image, off of everything I felt and wanted for Kyle.

I grabbed Kyle’s hands and thought, I abolish whatever spells have been cast on you by my hand so that you’ll regain full control of your will, and your choices, feelings, wants and desires are yours and yours alone.

I opened myself fully to the energy, allowing the magic to zip from my hands into Kyle’s, knowing the physical touch wasn’t necessary but not wanting to leave anything to chance. Several seconds, maybe a minute, passed in a blur of pulsating power that electrified the air. My lungs hurt from the effort to breathe, and my body trembled from the outpouring of magic, but I held on with everything I had, refusing to give up, refusing to turn away. Finally, I felt the subtle shift of power that told me the spell had been cast.

Squeezing his hands tighter, I breathed in through my nose and out through my mouth, trying to find my balance.
Another long lash of energy trickled through me, the air returned to normal, my shivers vanished and the power evaporated.

I dropped his hands and backed up a step, and then another, until I bumped up against my desk. “Done,” I whispered. “That should…well, that should do it. You should be back to normal fairly fast.”

Kyle opened his eyes and the tension in his shoulders eased. “How will I know if it worked? Not that I’m saying I believe in this or anything, but if I were to believe, how would I know?”

Good question, but I had a better one. “Do you still want to marry me?”

He didn’t answer immediately. Angling his head to the side, he grew pensive, as if searching himself to find the answer. This, believe it or not, told me that the magic
had
worked, that I had cleansed him of the other spell. If he had to think about whether or not he still wanted to marry me, the chances were high he didn’t.

Slowly, he shook his head. “No, I don’t. I remember wanting to marry you, feeling as if I had no choice but to keep trying, but it’s barely there now, and even that is fading away the longer I think about it.” Clearing his throat, he stepped backward toward the shop door. “Magic,” he scoffed. “What was I thinking? Maybe I just had to see you one more time to get those thoughts out of my head. Because we’d been together for so long.”

Trying hard not to smile, I nodded. “You’re right. That’s probably it.”

“The simplest explanation is usually the correct explanation,” he continued. “So, thanks for humoring me.”

My smile emerged. “Okay. If that’s how you want to play it, then you’re welcome.”

His gaze darted around the room. “So this is it, huh?”

“It doesn’t have to be. Can’t we remain friends?”

A quirky, happy-go-lucky grin lit his face. In that second, my heart squeezed. Our relationship had meant so much to me for a long time. “You still want to be friends?” he asked.

“Of course I do! I owe you a lot, you know. No one else really stuck by me this past year, not the way you did. And back in high school”—I closed my eyes briefly as the memories swept in—“you…well, you made me very happy. You entered my life when I needed…when I felt lost and afraid, and even though I had Alice and Sheridan, you did something for me that no one else could. You”—I gulped as I made the admission—“took care of me. You made me feel special.”

“You are special, and you helped me too, Chloe. It wasn’t all one-sided.” He cleared his throat again. “Come here.”

I did, and he pulled me in for a hug. I held on tight, pressed my forehead against his chest and mourned one final time the fact that we hadn’t been more than we were. I’d held on to the belief that what we had in high school was real and lasting, and that he’d made a mistake in leaving me. Letting all of this go was easier now. We separated, and my heart squeezed again. Not so much in pain as in loss, because we were finally, really and truly through.

“Hey, why are you looking so sad?” Tweaking my chin with his thumb and forefinger, he grinned again. “I’m not going anywhere, Chloe. Friends it is.”

I gulped, and the tears I’d barely held back dripped from my eyes. Not a gush, not a flood of emotion, but appropriate nonetheless. “I want you to be happy. I want you to find the love you felt—feel—for Shelby with someone who can return it.”

He kissed me on my forehead for old time’s sake, and then gave me one more quick hug. “I wish the same for you. But I should take off, so I still have a job. Friends, though, right? You’re not going to change your mind on that too?” he teased.

“Absolutely not.” I watched him leave and then gave myself
a few minutes to feel whatever I was going to feel. The four drawings, the futures that Alice’s magic had created, came to mind. Miranda had said that one of those futures would be the one I’d claim, and that the others were there because of certain choices and decisions.

I envisioned the drawing that had shown my future with Kyle, and then I visualized ripping the picture up and throwing the pieces away, because this choice had removed any potential for that specific future. Relief that I seemed to be making headway fluttered in, easing the bittersweet moment. Then, with my romantic relationship with Kyle put where it belonged—firmly in the past—I went to set Paige free so that I could wait for Mari.

“Sheridan, it’s Chloe again. Your sister. You know, the girl you grew up with? I really want to talk to you, so could you please call me back?” I rattled off all of my numbers again then hung up the phone with a frustrated sigh.

Damn Miranda and her assurances. Sheridan obviously did not want to talk to me, did not miss me and had no desire to reconnect. The fact that she hadn’t responded to any one of my three messages over as many days broadcast that statement loud and clear. I couldn’t decide what bugged me more: that she hadn’t gotten in touch, or that I’d allowed myself to believe we had a chance. So stupid of me.

I cursed Miranda again for giving me hope where none existed, and finished closing up the shop. After my luck with Kyle, I’d naively thought that everything else was finally sliding into focus. If someone had asked me Monday morning, I would’ve sworn that by today—Wednesday evening—I’d already have begun mending fences with my sister, and that I’d have a firm handle on the Mari situation. No and no. Because Sheridan wasn’t the only person refusing to reach out. I hadn’t seen even a glimpse of Mari since Saturday morning, when she’d phased in for all of five seconds.

Why she’d come to me before I knew who she was, and why she wasn’t coming now that I did added yet another layer of confusion atop the already jumbled mishmash of strangeness. So that was why right before leaving the store, I grabbed a book from our stock of spiritual subjects. This one dealt in the afterlife, and within its many chapters existed a message that I wanted Ben to read. Maybe if I could get him
to open himself up to the possibility of ghosts, we might have a chance of reaching Mari together.

Besides, I missed him. We’d talked on the phone each day, but hadn’t set up plans to see each other until that Friday, for his charity function. I figured, if nothing else, the book gave me an excuse to spend a little more time with him. Nothing wrong with that.

The drive to his place took longer than I expected, partially because every single freaking traffic light seemed to have it in for me, but also because weekday evening traffic proved far busier than Sunday morning’s. When I finally turned in at his driveway, a fresh crop of doubts swarmed in. I purposely hadn’t called to warn him of my visit, because I worried he might make an excuse, or worse, just outright say no.

“Too late for second guesses,” I mumbled after ringing his doorbell. Either he’d be pleased to see me or he wouldn’t.

A few minutes passed with no response. I peered in through one of the narrow windows that framed his front door but couldn’t see anything. Great. Just great. The guy probably wasn’t even home. I pressed the bell again, trying to decide if it would be too stalkerish to wait in my car for him to return or if I should leave and go grab some dinner and then come back. Cupping my hands around my eyes, I peered into the window again just as a glare of lights flooded the interior. Startled, I jumped back and tried to calm my racing nerves, hoping for the best but bracing for the worst.

He opened the door, a quizzical gleam in his gaze. I swallowed and smiled. “Hey, Ben. Hope you don’t mind an unexpected visit!”

He gestured for me to come inside. “Not at all. I almost didn’t hear you, though.”

I entered and took in my surroundings. We stood in a large foyer that had lustrous hardwood floors, expensive-looking paintings and a sweeping staircase. The hallway
opened up to several rooms on the left, a dining room on the right and what I assumed was the kitchen straight ahead.

“So, what brings you over?”

Thankfully, he didn’t sound displeased or unhappy to see me. Just curious. Taking that as a positive sign, I grinned again. “I missed you,” I admitted. “Plus, I have something for you. You really don’t mind I popped in?”

“Nope. In fact, I was going to give you a call after my workout.”

And that’s when I finally processed his appearance. He wore black shorts and a black tank, and his hair curled damply around his face. Beads of perspiration dotted his forehead, his face was slightly red and the muscles in his arms were tensed, almost bulging.

My lips felt dry, so I licked them. “I interrupted you. I’m…well…God, you look good.”

He winked one of his incredibly blue eyes. “You look good too. Have you eaten yet?”

I shook my head, already feeling the heat Ben always ignited in me. “No.”

“Want to stay for dinner? We can order out, and I’ll go jump in the shower. There’s something I want to get off my chest.”

“Besides your shirt? I can help you with that.” I grabbed the garment and tugged. “I’m quite good at getting your clothes off.”

Desire roared to life in his eyes as his lips twitched with amusement. “Did you come over for a booty call, Red?”

I hadn’t. Not really, anyway, but now that the subject was broached, every muscle in my body clenched, released and then melted. “Depends,” I breathed. “Are you up for one?”

“Hold that thought,” he growled. “Let me shower, we’ll get some food, and then…we’ll see where we’re at. Sound good?”

Hm. Not exactly the response I was after. I’d have far preferred
for him to sweep me up in his arms and then haul me off to the shower. That He-Man-like image brought another flush of longing. “Um…sure. Where should I wait?”

He led me to a large, slightly sunken living room off of the kitchen. The room itself was rectangular and boasted a stone fireplace at the far end, a wide, flat-screen television on one of the long walls, an oversized caramel-colored sofa, a couple of chairs and a square coffee table in front of the couch. This room felt like Ben, smelled like him, and just being there elicited all sorts of comfy, homey feelings inside of me.

Handing me the remote, he gestured to the TV. “Find something to watch and I’ll be right back.”

I nodded and settled into the lush, deep cushions of the sofa, automatically sliding my shoes off and curling up. Curiosity had me looking around for signs of his prior life, for photos of him with his wife and daughter, but other than one framed picture of Mari on the fireplace mantel, there were none. I thought about snooping while Ben showered, all in the name of learning more about Mari, of course, but common sense rode in. Skulking around his home and looking through his things wasn’t only rude, but the idea of doing so made my stomach cramp—which was weird, I suppose. Using magic on him didn’t make me feel ill, but secretly checking out his home did.

Not wanting to delve into the inane logic of that, I flipped the television on and tried to find something to watch. After clicking through a few dozen channels, I settled on a rerun of
Charmed
, thinking that maybe somehow I’d learn something about real-life magic. No such luck. But the program did manage to hold my attention well enough that I startled when Ben cleared his throat from the entryway of the room.

“Wow,” I said. “That was quick.”

He strode in, his long legs carrying him to me in barely a
blink. He still wore shorts, but this pair was of the khaki, pocketed variety, and his red short-sleeved shirt didn’t stretch tightly across his chest like the black tank. That didn’t change his sex appeal, however, or the fact that the very sight of him made my mouth water.

Sitting down next to me, he tossed me a smile that forced me to gulp. He asked, “Are you hungry? We can order a pizza, or if you trust my abilities in the kitchen, I can cook for us.”

“I definitely trust your abilities in the kitchen, but how about pizza? That way we can talk.” And maybe get to the bedroom that much sooner. But then I remembered he wasn’t a fan of fast food. “Or you can cook, if you want.”

“Pizza works.” He waggled his eyebrows and a teasing glint appeared in his eyes. “But let’s use plates this time.”

Picturing eating pizza off each other, I laughed. “Absolutely.”

We decided on a veggie pie with extra cheese, and he placed the order. While we waited for the delivery, I pulled the book out of my purse. Apprehension crackled in, because I wasn’t sure how he’d react. But I had to move forward. “I told you I brought you something.” I held the book toward him, and he accepted it.

He worked his jaw as he read the title. “
Understanding the Afterlife: Have Your Loved Ones Moved On?
What is this, Red? I don’t think—”

“Just listen,” I interrupted. “And then, if you don’t want the book, I’ll take it back. I…I know you don’t believe in a lot of the things I believe in, and I’m okay with that. But this is about your daughter…so, can you give me a few minutes to explain?”

His complexion paled. Eyes filled with uncertainty met mine, but lurking there, beneath the darkness, existed a tiny speck of hope. “Go on. I’ll listen.”

“Okay, good.” I inhaled a breath, trying to calm my racing
heart and pulsating nerves, knowing that the words I used would either relax his defenses or create a thicker, possibly impenetrable shield. “You told me that there are instances where you feel Mari—um, Marissa—and that you can almost smell her, she feels so close.”

He nodded but didn’t speak. Gripping the book tighter, his knuckles whitened.

“There is a chance that she’s still here, Ben. That something is holding her to this world and she can’t move on. Maybe there’s something she feels is unresolved, or maybe”—I gulped—“she’s trying to get your attention but doesn’t know how to reach you.”

He shook his head. “That’s impossible. I know you believe in ghosts, and while I respect your beliefs, I need you to respect mine. Because, Red, I hate to tell you: when we’re gone, we’re gone. And Marissa is gone.” That last bit tore out of him, right from his heart, and he flinched as he said it.

“There are unexplained happenings in this world every day,” I pushed, not ready to give up. “I truly believe that Marissa is still here, and that she’s trying to connect with you. What I don’t know is why.” I bit my lip, watching him carefully for his reaction. When he didn’t respond, I continued. “You are her father. You were always there when she needed you in life. What if she needs you now? If there is the slightest possibility that I’m right, and that she is here, wouldn’t you want to help her?”

Myriad emotions flashed through his eyes. “I can’t deny I’ve felt something. But this…this goes against everything I believe. You”—his voice splintered—“really think this is real? That my daughter needs something from me?”

Believe? I
knew
. “Yes. I do. Don’t you want to help her if you can?”

“If what you say is true…” The words ground out of him and his complexion paled another shade. “I have a really
difficult time with that thought, but yes. If somehow Rissa is still here and needs something from me, then of course I would help.”

“Then just read the book. See if anything in there resonates with you. Then, when you’re ready, we can talk about this again.”

He breathed in and out, the sound ragged. His grip on the book tightened even more, and a tremor whisked through his body. When he looked at me again, the disbelief hadn’t vanished, but that speck of hope gleamed just a little brighter. “I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this, but okay. On the off chance you’re right, I’ll read the book. But you need to understand that this is a hard pill for me to swallow.”

Shivers of relief spilled through me. “Thank you, Ben. I know this is difficult, and I’m just grateful you’re willing to do this much.”

He opened his mouth to say something, but the doorbell rang, announcing the arrival of our pizza. Another shudder rippled through him. “Let’s enjoy the rest of the evening, and after I’ve read through the book, I’ll let you know my thoughts.”

“Fair enough.”

Opening the end table next to him, he slid the book in the drawer and went to get our dinner. My anxiety grew to a whole new level while I waited. What if I’d just made a mistake? What if, by pushing him to accept something so foreign to him, I ended up pushing him away from me? That thought settled in, screwing with my appetite and my equilibrium, but then Mari’s pain came back. No matter what happened with her father and me, she was more important. Helping her came first. My tension relaxed, and by the time Ben returned, I had a smile on my face.

Over dinner, we chatted about work, politics, our favorite books and a variety of other subjects. When the last mouthful of pizza was eaten, the energy between us had stabilized
and we were, thankfully, back on track. “You said there was something you wanted to get off your chest?” I asked Ben. “When I first got here. Remember?”

“Yes. There is.” He put his empty plate on the coffee table and faced me. “I’ve been thinking about what we said to each other at the amusement park, about this being a fun and games thing for us. You said you were just out of a year-long relationship, and I called myself your rebound guy, which you plainly don’t like.”

Fuck. Oh, fuck. He was about to break things off. “Um…actually, it’s more that I don’t want to define this. I just want to take it one day at a time without rules. But if you want rules, then, well…I’ll listen and—” I squeezed my eyes shut. Don’t end this, Ben, I thought. We have a future together, so hang tight. Stay with me. See where this goes.

The air stilled around us. My ears buzzed and my pulse sped up. Perspiration dripped down the back of my neck while I waited for his response. But I kept my eyes closed, not daring to see what emotions lurked in his.

“Red…look at me.” His thumb brushed the area just beneath my right eye. “Come on, open up.”

Not able to resist his voice or his touch, I did as he asked. He rubbed his thumb down to my cheekbone and then laced his fingers into my hair. I leaned into his hand, my entire body, every nerve and every muscle on alert.

“You said exactly what I wanted to say. I don’t want to define this.” His husky tone slid over me, easing in, calming my nerves. “But”—he cleared his throat—“I also don’t want to think of you dating anyone else while we’re figuring out what this is. So I wanted to know if there are any other men in your life right now.”

Thank God he hadn’t asked that a week ago. “No, there aren’t. But what exactly are you saying? You don’t want to define us as a couple—which is fine, I guess—but you don’t want me to go out with anyone else?”