Page 48 of A Witch in Notting Hill

Willow

T he sun slanted through Oliver’s curtains, throwing a bar of light across his bare chest and casting the rest of him in shadow. He looked like a sculpture. An ancient god.

“I can feel you staring,” he said, a slow smile spreading across his face before he even opened his eyes.

“Could do it all day,” I said. At this point, there was no use in being anything but honest.

“Then it’s a good job it’s the longest day of the year.”

Holy shit. It was morning. Which meant it was the solstice.

I was out of bed and throwing my clothes on before I could even get my head on straight, crashing into the dresser as I shoved my legs into my jeans. No panties. Those were long gone. All day I’d feel the reminder of the night before in more ways than one.

But I needed to focus.

Everything I’d done in the past six months led up to this day, and I couldn’t afford to lose it to a daydream.

“Slow down,” Oliver said, sitting up and pushing his hair from his eyes. I couldn’t look at him. Couldn’t risk a second of distraction. Couldn’t risk my magic failing me today. “Willow, hey.”

He reached out and grabbed my wrist, spinning me to face him. “You’re okay. You know what you’re doing. You’ve prepared for this, you’ve done everything you needed to do. You’re ready.”

“Have I?” I asked. We both knew what I was really asking. Did you mean what you said last night? Have I actually convinced a skeptic magic is real? Have I proven myself?

“Sit down,” he said.

“I don’t have time.”

“Please.” His eyes were so soft I had no choice but to listen. I sat, letting him hold my hands in his lap. “I meant what I said last night. Every word.”

“You just changed your mind about magic? Real magic? After all this time?”

“I was looking at it all wrong.” He shook his head, like he was ashamed of himself. “I wasn’t open-minded, and it took a little communing with the dead of my own to see that. But I need you to know I get it now. And most importantly, I believe in you.”

He was so straightforward it was hard to believe any of this was real.

“Why are you looking at me like you don’t believe me?” he asked.

“Because it seems too good to be true,” I said. “You just... changed your mind.”

“ You changed my mind.”

I couldn’t do this now. My mind was becoming cloudier by the minute, and I needed as clear a head as possible for the spell.

Today wasn’t about me. Or Oliver. It was about Vera.

And the more he talked, the more I could feel myself teetering on the edge of a very dangerous cliff.

If he believed in me, if he knew magic was real, and that was no longer standing as a barrier between us.

.. did that mean a future could actually be possible?

I knew better than to get my hopes up, and I had to remind myself to stay grounded like a mantra. I couldn’t stay here. I had to get home to Vera before my magic spiraled completely out of control.

“I have to go,” I said.

“Willow, come on.”

“I’m not saying we aren’t going to talk about this.

I’m just saying we aren’t going to talk about this right now.

” That familiar, foreboding tingling returned to my toes, and I knew exactly what happened next.

Some catastrophic reminder of why I couldn’t have this, couldn’t make this work, and I didn’t have time for that today.

“I’ll come with you,” he said, throwing off the covers and pulling on a nearby sweater. “For support.”

“I have to do this on my own,” I said, grateful we were no longer looking at each other. It was all too much, and I couldn’t bear to add his disappointment to the lump of emotions stuck in my throat.

This moment felt dangerously close to the moment I kicked him out of my flat, the moment we said painful goodbyes after an otherwise perfect night together, and I had no interest in reliving it.

But if I prolonged this at all, let my emotions get in the way and let my feelings for him bubble to the surface, I didn’t stand a chance of completing the spell.

“I’m sorry,” I said, turning to look at him only when I had my hand on the doorknob. Hating that this was the second time we were ending a night this way.

“I don’t want to keep doing this, Willow.”

“I know,” I said, feeling a shock through my fingers as I pulled open the door. “Neither do I.”

“So let’s stop.”

I leaned my forehead against the door, trying and failing to figure out what to say to make this better.

“You know what, you’re right,” he said suddenly.

“This isn’t a conversation for right now.

But will you promise me it is a conversation?

I can’t have you walk out of this flat and never see you again, Willow.

I can’t have you complete this spell and disappear back to LA like this never happened. And I don’t think you can, either.”

He had no idea.

“It is a conversation,” I conceded, feeling the tingling subside just enough for me to actually get a grip on the doorknob. “Just, please, I have to—”

“Go,” he said. “I’m rooting for you, Willow. I know you can do this.”

That made one of us.

I thanked him and ran down the stairs before I could fall into his arms and beg him to come with me. If the magic was going to work, I needed to be as far from Oliver as possible.

“Vera?” I called as I threw our front door open, looking frantically around the flat and not bothering to close it behind me. “Vera? I’m sorry I was out all night and I’m late now but it’s finally the solstice and—”

“It’s time?”

“It’s time,” I confirmed, balling my hands into fists so she couldn’t see them shaking. I should have known that with those marble eyes of hers, she saw everything.

“Relax, Willow,” she said, jumping off the counter to sit at my feet. “I can’t have you freaking out about this.”

She was right. I put her in this position in the first place, and it was my responsibility to get her out. That meant I didn’t get to panic, didn’t get to freak out. Didn’t get to fail.

It was now or never.

Well, now or next year, but we’d both really like it to be now.

“I’m assuming you were out last night convincing a skeptic?” she asked, raising a delicate brow.

I nodded. “It’s all taken care of.” She deserved to know I was ready to do the spell, but I was far from ready to disclose anything else.

“Why are you saying it like you’re Tony Soprano?”

“Because I don’t want to talk about it,” I said. “If I talk about it, the magic will go to shit. Do you want the magic to go to shit?”

She put a paw over her mouth, and I thanked her.

“So it’s time, then,” I said again, unsure how to begin.

“Indeed it is.”

“Do we just... do it right here in the living room?” I asked, suddenly realizing I had no real idea how the spell was actually going to go.

“You’re the witch,” Vera said. “Does feel like as good a spot as any, though, doesn’t it? If you did it the first time in a trailer, the living room is probably fine.”

“You’re right,” I said, shaking out my shoulders and trying to rack my brain for whatever else I might have been overlooking. “Are you going to be naked when you turn back into a person?” I asked. “Do you want me to, uh, have some clothes ready?”

“They disappeared when I turned into a cat, didn’t they? So I’m hoping they’ll reappear when I turn back? Might be a touch overdressed for the living room, but that never hurt anyone.”

“What if they don’t?”

“Willow, stop stalling. You have to trust yourself,” she said, undoubtedly sensing my mood.

She was an excellent mind reader. Or we just spent entirely too much time together in high-pressure situations.

Hard to say. “This is no different than the first shot of a film or the first few steps onto a red carpet. You’re putting yourself out there, putting your work on display, putting yourself in a situation that you could fail, and trusting that you won’t.

You need to get into that mindset. This is your art just as much as acting. You have to take the leap.”

“You’re good. You should go into management or something.”

“Willow, I swear—”

“I know, I know,” I said, feeling my shoulders come down from my ears as her words settled in. She always knew exactly how to talk me down.

“You’re prepared for this. More prepared than I’ve ever seen you be for anything, quite frankly.” Fair point. “But it’s all going to go to waste if you can’t pony up and get it done. So hop to it. I’d like to be back in my human form before the Golden Globes, if you don’t mind.”

“Right,” I said. “Ok, I guess there’s no time like the present. Are you ready?”

“Been ready for six months.”

“Right,” I said again. There was nothing left to say except the spell. So I dug deep, and I did what I had to do.

In the past six months, I’d done everything on the list and more.

I’d tested the boundaries of my magic, I’d cleansed, I’d talked to Granny Annie, I’d proved the existence of magic, for god’s sake.

Well, in one way or another. But I hardly thought it mattered now.

What mattered was that Vera was right. I was ready.

The only thing left to do was let it rip.

I took a deep breath and said the chant as loud and proud as I could.

Time turner, turn back time.

Reverse this spell that was not mine.

Undo the damage

I have done

And take us back to square one.

A nd nothing happened. A light fixture swayed, a strong gust of wind rattled the windows, and Vera remained a cat.

“Are you sure you did it right?” she asked.

“How would I know? I don’t even know how I did it in the first place!”

“Take a deep breath,” she said, “then try again. Maybe you just need to warm up.”

I did as I was told, trying desperately not to let my emotions into the driver’s seat. After a long inhale and a slow, steadying exhale, I said the chant again.

I focused on every word.

I didn’t let myself think about Oliver. About his definition of magic. About how he was the last piece of the spell.

And still . . . nothing happened.