Page 38 of Found in Wild Sage

The spell is broken. And I don’t know when I’ll get to be this close again. The next time she’s here, Charlie will be with her. That’s not bad news. In fact, I can’t wait to have him here. But I want just her, too.

I point out the linen closet like spare towels and sheets are a real thrill, and we return downstairs. Our time is winding down, all the sand in our hourglass for tonight slipping away too soon, so I drag out the tour to show her the laundry room, the mud room that leads to the garage, and the stairs to the unfinished basement where the water heater and furnace are. I stop short of leading her down there because it’s not a place she’ll need to go.

While we walk, we hash out a few details. She’ll keep her apartment because she owns it. She’ll want Charlie’s furniture moved over, and some of her clothes, but she’s not planning on bringing much else.

“Your home is so pretty and most of my stuff is a mishmash. If I end up renting it out, it can be furnished.”

There’s a flash where I could swear I can read her mind. She’s about to say something about how long we’ll be doing this—how long we’ll be married. I both want and deeply do not want her to ask.

So far, we haven’t identified an end date, but there will be one. There must be. Someday, she’ll want a husband she’s chosen, someone who owns her heart and isn’t with her for any reason other than to love her.

I haven’t convinced myself to bring this up. It would satisfy the part of me that yearns for clarity, but it might threaten the sliver of hope I’m not fully looking at or acknowledging. It’s best to leave it alone. Keep it simple.

And instead of voicing any of her thoughts, she smiles softly. It’s one of many expressions that effectively kills me.

“I should probably get back to Charlie.”

Her gaze is on mine. We’re standing by the door. My pulse is tachycardic for no good reason except standing near her and the dreadful reality that soon, she’ll be gone.

A hundred things flash through my mind for us to discuss. When does she want to start staying here? What should we tell my family if they ask about a honeymoon? What does she like to eat for breakfast? What can I do to make this easier on her?

“Thanks for coming over.”

It was so good having you here.

I love having you here.

I can’t wait for you to be here all the time.

We’ve promised each other honesty, but I don’t think that necessarily means dumping all the messy thoughts at her feet. Thank God.

“Thanks for having me.”

I am so grateful we aren’t sharing all our thoughts yet again because the ravenous little dog in my head is screaming, I’d love to have you. I’d have every bit of you.

And that’s not me.

Well, clearly it is, but it’s not the version of me I’m going to show her. She doesn’t need some pathetic man panting over her while she faces another huge transition in her life.

It’s this reminder that sobers me. It snaps me out of the droopy-eyed haze and straightens my spine.

“See you soon. Give my love to Charlie.”

And then, she’s gone.

I shut the door and lean against it, running a hand through my hair. “Idiot.” There’s no one to hear me, but maybe I need to hear me.

I’m going to need to put a screw-top lid on these feelings. It’d be easier if she were any less… everything. But damn if she isn’t even better than I already thought she was before I started learning more and more about her. It’s inescapable, and having her living in my home, getting an up-close view of her day in and day out? It might just kill me.

A knock on the door makes me jump, and I’m smiling when I wrench it open. “Did you forget some⁠—”

“Were you expecting someone else?” Finn stands at the door and just behind him is Grant.

“Evie just left.”

Finn’s face bursts into a gigantic grin. “Oh, well, we are a huge letdown, aren’t we?”

Grant would roll his eyes if that were something he does, but he maintains a neutral mask.