Page 41 of Just One Little Bargain

She makes every beautiful thing I’ve ever seen feel ordinary.

I want to make it happen again. Want to drink forty more terrible drinks if that’s what it costs. Want to spend the remaining twenty-nine days figuring out exactly what combination of words and catastrophic beverages produces that sound.

She thinks I’m either delusional or running the most elaborate bit in human history. And I’m sitting here cataloging her laugh with the dedication of a doctoral candidate because she found it funny when I suffered.

This level of fixation over a mortal should concern me. It does concern me. Unfortunately, it has done nothing to stop it, which creates its own lovely little panic spiral.

Desire isn’t unfamiliar to me. Hell is full of creatures designed to be desired, and I’ve spent years in their proximity with nothing stronger than lukewarm appreciation. This is different.

My brain, which has apparently been on vacation, clocks back in.

I’m here for her soul.

The grin falls off my face, and the sweetness in my mouth turns sour. Evie’s laugh dies in the same breath. She catches herself, ducking her head.

Maddie’s phone buzzes against the table. Whatever she sees wipes the grin off her face.

“I swear to God.” She picks up. “What?”

The voice on the other end is male, speaking fast enough that the words bleed together.

“Dad, stop talking.” She’s standing, chair shoved back with her hip, jacket in her hand. “What do you mean you already tried to fix it? I told you last time to call me before you touch the regulator. That’s literally all I asked.”

More frantic talking.

“No, I understand. I’m coming. Just don’t touch anything else.” She ends the call with a jab of her thumb.

“The taps?” Evie asks.

“The taps.” She pulls her jacket on in one sharp motion. “And my father, who’s owned a bar for thirty years, somehow can’t reset a pressure valve without my supervision.”

“Go,” Evie says, already reaching for her bag. “I should get going, anyway.”

“Wait.” Maddie holds up one finger. “Milo, do you have anywhere to be right now?”

I’ve got nowhere to be. My entire reason for being here is finding Evie and convincing her to talk to me, and both are currently happening at this table.

“No.”

“Great. Evie’s heading to market for the inn supplies. All those heavy bags she refuses to let anyone help carry because she’s pathologically self-reliant.”

“I’m standing right here.” Evie’s tone is flat.

“I know. That’s why I’m saying it.” Maddie turns back to me. “You should go with her.”

Evie opens her mouth.

“I’d love to.” The words come out far too fast. I dial it back. “I mean . . . I’d like to help. As an apology.”

“I don’t need—”

“You never need. That’s the whole problem.” Maddie pulls her keys from her pocket and heads for the door.

Evie’s eyes narrow. “Fine.”

“Perfect. And you can stop clenching your jaw now or you’ll crack a molar.” She turns to me. “Be useful, Milo.” Then she’s gone.

Evie stands there, bag clutched against her stomach. “If you’re coming, we should go.”