Tiger Lily - May Dawson Page 0,60

my happy place where my grandfather and I had eaten many hot dogs, where I’d rolled out Christmas cookies on the flour-covered island and drank hot tea with honey while I studied for my SATs.

Brad didn’t belong in my happy place.

He didn’t belong in Silver Springs. This whole damn town where friends were up in each other’s business and magic was in the open and everything was quirky but beautiful—this was my happy place.

The realization surprised me, and I almost let the kettle overflow. Hastily, I jerked it out of the stream of tap water and placed it on the stovetop with a clang.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

What a question right now.

I nodded, before taking down the box that held all our tea bags—most of them probably expired, knowing my grandfather. I sat at the kitchen table, pulling my purse into my lap. My heart was in my throat.

Could a girl who routinely tripped—when not in cat-form—really pull off the sleight of hand of getting a potion into this guy’s drink?

And what would happen if he caught me?

“What kind of tea would you like?” I asked, trying to hide my nerves. I picked out a little package of orange spice—my favorite—and slid it across the table to him.

He smiled faintly—a familiar, condescending expression, as if the man thought tea was stupid and girlish. But he studied the contents, and I used the opportunity to reach inside my purse and grope for the vial.

My fingers wrapped around glass. I drew it out, slipped it into my sweatshirt pocket. My hand was still in my pocket as he raised his gaze to mine.

“Earl Grey,” he said, holding the packet up between two fingers. He laid it on the table beside him. “I’m glad you’re willing to talk to me, Lily.”

“Of course,” I lied.

“I found you a really great job in Scarborough,” he said. “You always wanted to work in a library.”

He smiled at me. I had fantasized about that, a long time ago when we were dating in college. “I just have a degree in English,” I reminded him. “Not library science.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he promised me. “The position is the assistant for the children’s programming for the county. You don’t need a library science degree for that. My brother-in-law’s cousin is the head librarian, and she came through…”

Yeah, you don’t need a degree for nepotism. I’d learned that working for Jonathan. Oh great, a job working for someone on Brad’s side. That boded well.

“It sounds perfect for you,” he said. “You’ve got great organization skills. You’d be reaching out to speakers, scheduling the children’s programs like readings and sing-alongs and special events.”

That actually did sound like my dream job. I’d spend every day working in an office in a sunny library, surrounded by books and the happiest people in the world—readers.

He beamed at me as if he knew what I was thinking. “You’re like a big kid yourself, so it would be a perfect fit.”

I knew Blake or Dylan or Archer could describe me as a big kid and they’d mean it as a compliment, that I found fun in things and enjoyed innocent stuff like Disney sing-a-longs and princess t-shirts. But he meant something else.

“Thanks, Brad,” I said. “That…sounds like a job I’d love. I’ll think about it.”

He frowned. “Okay.” That clearly wasn’t the response he’d expected. “And I was thinking about us…”

I nodded.

He reached across the table for my hand, an earnest expression written across his face. “We can find a way to face this together, Lily.”

“To face…what now?” I wanted to play along, but I didn’t even know how.

“Your…” he seemed to trail off, as if he couldn’t even say it, and then he held his fingers up to his head as if they were little ears.

Brad would never be good enough to be a cat.

“Oh,” I said in shock.

“I love you,” he said. “The… that doesn’t change. I needed time to get over it, but I… will work with you and we’ll find a cure. There’s got to be a cure.”

I didn’t need to be cured. I stared at him, trying to school my face, my mind reeling as if I’d never figure out what to say next.

The tea kettle started to scream, and I stood up abruptly, the chair legs scraping across the linoleum floor. “I’ve got to make our tea.”

I reached across the table for his tea bag, then took both of ours to the stove. I took down two of my favorite oversized