witch energy. I can’t risk jeopardizing that. I can’t risk his place in the Candler family or at Dream Homes.
I know what I have to do.
It’s the weekend, so I don’t have to see Trace at work. I text him and ask him to not come for tutoring because I’m not feeling well. I go to my art class at the museum. The kids distract me from my heartache, and after they’re gone, I stay for a while and paint. I end up with a new watercolor painting to frame and hang, but I’m running out of room at my condo. Maybe I need to add these to my Etsy store.
I stop for lunch on my way home, sitting in a window seat in a little café to eat my sandwich, taking my time since I don’t have to rush home to meet Trace. After that, I wander into a couple of little nearby shops. I see the cutest pair of black suede booties, and I love them. So I buy them.
They don’t make me feel any better.
At home, I drop my shopping bag and purse on a living room chair. I head into my office, where I’d normally be right now with Trace. The books sit on the coffee table, and I lower myself to the couch and run my fingers over them. Stupid dusty old books. But I kind of like them. They have a sense of history and continuity that I’ve come to appreciate.
Sadly I pile them into a neat stack and leave my office.
As usual, Cassie has a family dinner planned for Sunday evening. This will be the perfect time to tell them the decision I’ve come to.
I’ve avoided Trace all weekend, and I hate it.
I don’t care what I look like, but pride makes me put on a little makeup and pick a nice dress to wear, a black-and-cream-print flowy dress that goes nearly to my ankles. I wear the new booties I bought yesterday. Hot pink lipstick adds some color to my face.
I press a hand to my stomach where a flock of small birds flap their wings. I can do this.
As usual, there is no smell of cooking food when I arrive at Cassie and Joe’s, yet I’m sure she’s conjuring up something amazing. Something I probably won’t be able to eat more than two bites of because my stomach feels like a giant fist is clenching it.
I greet everyone with warm hugs. I’m used to the hugs now. In fact, I like them.
Cassie conjures a glass of wine and hands it to me. “So how was your first week at Dream Homes?”
“Good so far! I’m figuring things out and making plans.”
“That’s wonderful.”
We move into the den for chitchat and predinner snacks. I’ve already tossed back my wine, and I try out my wine witchery with a twirling finger over my glass. Bam! More wine. Beautiful. This should help my nerves.
The topic of the board meeting comes up. Felise and Magan have told Joe and Cassie everything, so I don’t have to say much other than how grateful I was for all the support. There haven’t been any rumors erupting from the board members, which I guess is a good thing, but who knows?
When Trace arrives, my heart leaps and lurches into an unsteady rhythm. I swipe my palms over my dress, my muscles quivering and twitching.
He walks into the den, and his eyes meet mine immediately. The crease between his eyebrows deepens, and his eyes hold questions.
I attempt a weak smile. “Hi.”
He doesn’t smile back. “Hi.”
With the whole family around us, it’s easy to keep my distance from him. During dinner, I poke at my food and pretend to eat while my stomach tosses. I gulp down water for my dry mouth. I wait until we’re all finished eating to gather my nerve and make my speech.
“I have something I need to talk to you all about.”
They all give me blank looks except Trace, who frowns.
“Yesterday after the meeting, I learned that Z-Ziggy Cox threatened to remove Trace’s powers because of the things I did.”
My gaze moves from person to person. Felise covers her eyes with her hand. Magan makes a “yikes” face. Joe’s mouth drops open, and Cassie lowers her chin, blinking. Trace narrows his eyes.
“How did you find that out?” he growls.
I wave a hand. “It doesn’t matter.”
“I told her.” Felise speaks up. “You don’t need to protect me, Romy.” She turns to Trace. “Don’t be pissed. It’s the truth.”