Page 49 of A Witch in Notting Hill

“Okay, let’s not panic,” Vera said, watching as I panicked. I was pacing the floor with both hands in my hair, mumbling the spell to myself and trying to figure out where I was going wrong. Trying to keep the tears at bay.

“I’ve done everything I was supposed to do,” I said, hearing my voice crack but unable to get it back under control.

“I found the leaves and drank the gross tea, I used the damn pendulum, I nearly died in the freezing pond, I stayed up for two days, I talked to Granny, I proved magic exists to someone who didn’t believe in it—what more could I have done?

I mean, seriously. What else is there?” I was becoming more unhinged with every word that came out of my mouth, but I didn’t care.

I needed to know what I was missing. “Of all times for my magic not to work, why now? I’m focused, I’m prepared, I’m—”

A gentle knock on the door interrupted my rant, and Vera and I stared at each other with equally shocked expressions.

“Are you expecting company?” she asked.

“Definitely not. Are you?”

She gave me a look that said, Really? Which was fair.

“Are you going to get it?”

“Right now?” I asked. “Who the hell could it be right now?”

“Willow, it’s me.” His voice drifted through the door like smoke, and my heart squeezed in my chest. “I know you said you wanted to do this alone, but I didn’t get a chance to tell you last night what I think I’ve learned about your magic, and I think, well, I don’t know, but I think it might help. ”

I’d completely forgotten about that. One kiss and every brain cell left my body, including the ones carrying the bit of information about Oliver thinking he had some insight into my magic, which he didn’t even believe in until yesterday. What the hell was going on?

“How did you know to come here right now?” I asked, still on the other side of the door.

“Gut feeling,” he said. “Can’t explain it.”

“You know what we call that in this house?” I asked.

“I reckon I might have an idea.” I could hear the smile in his voice. In all the times I’d heard him talk about magic before last night, all I could hear was a scowl. And edge. The sharp blade of disbelief. But now? He was soft. Compassionate.

For a second, I considered the possibility he’d actually be able to help me. Until I realized the absurdity of it all a second later.

“Let me in, Willow.” We both knew he wasn’t just talking about the physical closed door between us. And that was the exact reason I couldn’t.

“I can’t,” I whispered, up against the door and wishing I could run to him on the other side. “Being with you, you know it makes my magic—”

“It’s not being with me that’s the problem,” he said. “That’s the thing. It’s resisting it.”

It’s . . . what?

“Oliver, respectfully, I’ve been dealing with this my whole life, and resisting is definitely not the problem. It’s the only thing that’s kept my magic under control. Well... more or less.”

“Think about it,” he said, and I could hear him getting more animated.

“Every time something has gone awry, it’s because you’ve been pushing me away.

When you pushed me away in the Underground and the Tube showered us in sparks, when you pulled my hands off of you in the shower and the pipe blew, when you tried to slam the door in my face and your hair caught on fire.

Your magic misfired because you were pushing me away.

“And then think about the first time we slept together. When we finally gave in. And there was no catastrophe. And again last night, you let your guard down, and nothing happened, did it? No fires, no explosions, no power outages. Nothing.”

I slid down the door until I was sitting, afraid I might collapse if I didn’t. That couldn’t be true. There was no way I’d had it backward for thirty years of my life. All this time, and pushing people away was the problem?

“And didn’t you say the spell on your manager went wrong when you were in an argument about doing a romance film? When you were quite literally resisting romance? Willow, it all makes sense.”

“But how did you—”

“Uncle Arthur’s ledger,” he said. “He knew your gran, Willow. And the same thing happened to her. Her magic went haywire when she was talking to a man in the shop, and I wasn’t sure at first if that was connected, but then Uncle Arthur wrote she turned punch to gelatin at a party when she was telling a bloke she couldn’t go on a date because she had to return to America and it just, it all just clicked. ”

“He wrote about Granny?” I asked, feeling my chin start to wobble. Anyone who knew Granny was the luckiest person in the world. And to hear stories about her from an outsider? Stories about her magic working just like mine? It was like she was giving me a gift.

“He did,” he said. “And he said the loveliest things about her. I can tell how much you take after her.” I swiped a tear from my cheek, unable to hold them in any longer.

“And I reckon she’d have more faith than anyone that you could do this spell, Willow.

With me as a close second, of course.” I laughed through my tears, wondering if any of this really could be true.

“I think it’s worth a try, don’t you?” he asked.

“Letting you in?” I asked.

“Letting me in,” he confirmed.

I stood up and flicked the lock, prepared first to just let him into the flat. One thing at a time. I opened the door to find him leaning on the doorjamb, his hair a mess, his shirt wrinkled. Like he’d bolted out of the house the second he realized I needed him.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi.”

“Are you ready to try again?” It was such a loaded question I felt it wrap around me like fog. Like I could almost reach out and touch it.

“What if it doesn’t work?” I asked, my own voice smaller than I’d ever heard it.

“If you don’t trust me, trust your gran,” he said. “She’d tell to you go for it, wouldn’t she? Worries be damned?”

I laughed again, unable to resist the mental image of Granny Annie cheering me and Ivy on as we learned spells as kids. Jumping up and down with her arms in the air, even if we failed.

“So I just have to—”

“Stop resisting,” he finished. “Give in to it, Willow.”

For the sake of my magic, and for the sake of my happiness, I did. I kissed him like we were the only two people in the whole city, laughing against his lips as Vera groaned, relishing the newfound lightness that came with acceptance.

“Do it,” he said, pulling away and turning his back to give me privacy. “Do it now.”

Before we lost the moment, I turned to Vera and chanted the spell one more time.

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 just like last summer, in a flash of light and a swirl of smoke, a woman stood before me.

“Good god, must that be so aggressive?” She coughed a few times and brushed dust from her clothes, shaking out her shoulders and pushing her hair from her eyes.

“Holy shit,” I cried. “I’ve done it! Vera, you’re back!”

“Indeed I am.” She smiled. “Well done, Willow.”

I sank to my knees, unable to believe I’d actually done it. That after the last six months, the uncertainty, the stress, the heartache, the challenges, the victories, the growth, the roller coaster, I’d really done it.

And Oliver was right.

“You must be Oliver,” Vera said, extending her hand. Thin, manicured fingers instead of a paw.

“Pleasure,” he said, giving her hand a firm shake.

I couldn’t believe this scene. Even as it unfolded before me, I couldn’t believe it was actually happening. Couldn’t believe I’d done something right. Not until Oliver lowered himself to the floor in front of me and grabbed me by the shoulders.

“You’ve done it.” He smiled, and every nerve ending in my body lit up.

“Is now the time you say I told you so ?” I asked, wiping a happy tear from my eye.

“No, Willow,” he said. “Now’s the time I say I love you.”