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“You didn’t have to do that,” I said quietly. “I know how much it means to you to unload this place. It’s fine, really.”
“It’s not fine. I know how much this place means to you.”
I turned to Dom. “I wasn’t lying when I said I needed to come back here, to see my apartment.” I gestured around to the place I’d held onto forever. A place infused with the only positive memories I possessed from my past. “But not for the reasons you probably think.”
Dom watched me carefully.
“I wanted to come back here to be sure that I was ready to let it go. And I am,” I told him. “Yes, there are remnants of my mother here that I cherish. But I’m tired of living in the past, of being afraid, of staying in my rut. I’m ready to start new. Start fresh. Take the good memories of my mother with me but make even more memories for myself. For us.”
“Are you sure? Because I can get out of the sale if you want.”
“I’m sure,” I told Dom. “I’m really, really sure.”
Dominic looked at me in a way that told me he was studying me for any sign that I was lying. Fibbing to make him feel better. Apparently he saw what he wanted because he nodded.
“We’ll find a new place then,” he said, his voice sounding a bit rocky. “A fresh start.”
I turned back to my apartment, feeling at peace with my decision. I’d had two weeks to think about it, and I was ready—wholly and completely.
During the two weeks I’d spent recovering, the rest of the world had kept turning. Sebastian was still in a magically induced coma while the Society of Magical Sciences studied the effects of what drinking blood drenched in heartbreak magic did to a vampire’s body. I suspected it would be a while before he came to, and then, he’d be facing a long, long time in high security paranormal prison.
Levian, too, was facing big charges. His trial was due to start in a couple of months, and in the meantime, he would be incarcerated at the Magical Institute for Dastardly Criminals.
The elections had been postponed for obvious reasons. Merci had called an emergency redrawing of names from The Fates, but it had backfired when the cauldron had spit out the same three names, minus one: Dominic Kent, Lucas Paul the Third, and Trixie Gardens.
Reluctantly, Merci had rescheduled the elections for two weeks out. Which meant people were voting right now, and we’d hear the news of who won tonight.
Technically, Dom and I were still in violation of CCCC Clause 873—the rule about not dating other candidates—so Lucas Paul the Third was really the only option. Which was just fine with me.
Emmy had gotten into all the schools she’d applied for, which came as a surprise to nobody but her. I hadn’t broached the subject with her about which one she’d choose. I could only handle so much change in such a short span of time, and I didn’t want to think about the possibility of her moving away from me just yet.
“It’s time for the viewing party,” Emmy announced. “They’ll be announcing the results for the wildcard seat in a few minutes.”
While Emmy flicked on the TV, I gathered a couple glasses of wine. Dom and I snuggled up on our sofa that I realized was much fluffier than it had been before, and I was pretty sure Dom had instructed for it to be reupholstered while I’d been recovering.
Emmy sat on the armchair near us as the election results started to roll in. All three of us had mostly been ignoring election day. It was why I’d picked today of all days to come back to my apartment. After over a month of weirdness, I was ready for normalcy again.
When Lucas was announced as the winner tonight, I’d finally be ready to return to my old life. Or rather, my new life. The campaign would be behind us. Dom’s brother was destined to spend a long time in jail. My apartment was secure, and Levian was in prison.
Which meant all sorts of things. I could now spend some time gently exploring my magic with lessons from Belinda. I could get a new job where I didn’t have to cart around half-transformed werewolves in the middle of the night. Dom and I could go out on a real date and bask in what was happening between us just because. For no reason except that we loved each other.
“Shh!” Emmy instructed. “Here’s Merci.”
As Merci came onto the stage, her expression was impossible to read. She had an envelope in her hands as she stood behind a podium. Lucas was in attendance of course, along with a live audience.
“Ladies and gentlemen, the votes have been counted and verified,” Merci said. “The newest member of The Circle to take the wildcard seat is...”
Everyone in The Hollow was holding their breath.
“The Witch, Trixie Gardens.”
There was dead silence. In our apartment, and across the TV, and probably across all of New York. We waited to hear what Merci had to say next. Lucas looked mostly confused and not all that upset from his seat on the stage.
“I know this question will come up,” Merci continued, looking unhappily at her hands. “How can Ms. Gardens have won the election when she’s in direct violation of the CCCC Clause 873?” Merci unhappily cleared her throat. “There is an exception to that rule. If the candidate has enough write-in votes to be elected, they can still take a seat with The Circle. Clause 873 is overruled in that instance.”
“So I can go now?” Lucas piped up on stage. “Congratulations to Trixie. She deserved it. Heck, even I voted for her.”
Lucas swept off the stage and scurried down to the audience. He seemed genuinely relieved to be out of the public eye. While I felt genuinely horrified to be in it.
