Page 13

CHLOE

I tossed and turned all night, my mind a tangled mess of what-ifs and maybes. By morning, I'd worn myself out enough to fall into a dead sleep, only to be jolted awake by Frosty's unnecessarily dramatic crowing directly into my ear.

"Rise and shine, sleeping beauty! Your handsome prince awaits in the digital realm!"

I groaned, burying my face deeper into my pillow. "What time is it?"

"Nine twenty-seven. Lincoln's video call is at nine-thirty. I've already set up your laptop, fixed your hair, and applied minimal makeup while you were unconscious."

I bolted upright. "You did what?"

Frosty rolled his eyes. "Obviously I'm joking about the makeup. Though your left eyebrow could use some attention."

I stumbled to the bathroom, splashed water on my face, and dragged a brush through my hair. Three minutes later, I dropped into my desk chair just as the laptop chimed with an incoming call.

Lincoln's face appeared on screen, but something was off. Instead of his usual book-lined office, he sat at the head of a glossy conference table. His expression was tense, his usual warm smile replaced by something more guarded.

"Hey," I said, trying to sound normal despite the worry blooming in my chest. "Fancy backdrop. Are you being held hostage by corporate raiders?"

He attempted a laugh that didn't quite land. "Not exactly, though it feels that way sometimes." The camera panned to reveal a room full of suits, most of whom nodded politely in my direction. I recognized Augustus among them, looking unusually serious.

"Chloe," Lincoln said, his voice shifting into what I'd come to recognize as his business tone. "I wanted you to be the first to know. Apex Media has made an offer to buy my publishing house."

My stomach dropped. "Apex? The mega-conglomerate that's been swallowing independent publishers?"

"The very one." He loosened his tie slightly. "The offer is... substantial. Life-changing, actually."

"That's... wow." I forced my face to remain neutral, though my heart was racing. "Congratulations."

"It comes with conditions," he continued. "A five-year contract binding me to their New York headquarters. No remote work, no extended absences."

Five years. In New York. The words hung between us like a wall.

"The board is strongly in favor," Augustus added from his seat. "It's an unprecedented opportunity."

Lincoln's eyes never left mine. "I wanted your thoughts. Not as my girlfriend, but as someone whose business judgment I trust."

I sat in Lincoln's digital gaze, frozen like a rabbit caught in headlights. Five years in New York. Five years without... us. Whatever "us" had become.

"From a business perspective," I said, my voice surprisingly steady, "it's the opportunity of a lifetime. Publishing is consolidating faster than witches at a potion sale. Independent houses are endangered species."

Lincoln nodded, his eyes searching mine through the screen. "And from a non-business perspective?"

I swallowed hard. "That's... more complicated."

The boardroom door opened, and a woman in a sleek pantsuit whispered something to Lincoln. He nodded and turned back to me.

"I have to go. Apex representatives just arrived for the preliminary meeting. Can we talk tonight?"

"Of course. Go dazzle them with your publishing prowess."

After he disconnected, I stared at the blank screen for a full minute before Frosty cleared his throat.

"You okay there, boss?"

"Peachy. Just peachy-freaking-keen."

The town hall buzzed with the usual chaotic energy of Assjacket meetings. Marigold waved frantically from the third row, patting the seat she'd saved me.

"You're late," she whispered as I slid in beside her. "They've been arguing about the eastern barrier for twenty minutes."

On stage, Mayor Winchell jabbed his finger at a glowing map. "The fluctuations in the cloaking spell are becoming more frequent. Last week, three hikers wandered through thinking they'd found an abandoned movie set!"

I nodded absently, my mind still trapped in that boardroom with Lincoln.

"...wouldn't be necessary if certain residents would stop experimenting with interdimensional portals in their basements," Mayor Winchell continued, glaring at old Mr. Hoffstead.

"It was ONE time!" the elderly warlock protested.

Marigold nudged me. "They're taking votes on the barrier reinforcement budget."

"Hmm? Oh, right." I raised my hand automatically when others did, not even sure what I was voting for.

After the meeting, I tried to slip out unnoticed, but Zelda materialized beside me, her green eyes narrowed.

"You look like someone just told you unicorns aren't real. Come on." She linked her arm through mine, steering me toward a quiet corner. "Spill it."

"Lincoln's company is being bought. Five years in New York. No exceptions."

Zelda's face softened. "Ah."

"The logical part of me says to end it now. Clean break. Why prolong the inevitable?"

"Is that what you want? The clean break?"

My eyes burned with unshed tears. "What I want doesn't matter. I've always known this was temporary."

"Have you?" Zelda asked, her voice gentle. "Or have you just been telling yourself that to protect your heart?"

The question hit me like a thunderbolt.

I stared at Zelda, her question rattling around my skull like a loose marble. My throat tightened.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I managed, but even to my own ears, the denial sounded pathetic.

"Sure you do." Zelda tucked a strand of auburn hair behind her ear. "You've been preparing for this relationship to fail since before it started. It's like you've been packing your emotional bags this whole time, just waiting for the eviction notice."

"That's not—" I stopped. "Okay, fine. Maybe I have. But look what's happening now! I was right."

Zelda's green eyes sparkled with that unnerving wisdom that made her so annoyingly helpful. "Were you, though? A business opportunity isn't a relationship death sentence unless you make it one."

Mayor Winchell hustled past us, still berating Mr. Hoffstead about his portal experiments. "—and the goat that came through speaking Aramaic is still traumatizing the kindergarten class!"

I lowered my voice. "Five years, Zelda. In New York. That's not a weekend trip."

"I'm aware of the distance between West Virginia and New York. I did pass fifth-grade geography." She squeezed my arm. "But have you considered that maybe the reason this hurts so much is because it actually matters?"

The words landed like a punch to the gut. I opened my mouth to deliver a scathing retort, but nothing came out.

"Look," Zelda continued, softer now, "when Mac and I first got together, he was traveling constantly for work. I convinced myself it was doomed. Even told him we should end it before it got messy."

"What happened?"

"He laughed in my face and told me I was being a chickenshit." Her lips quirked into a smile. "Not his exact words, but close enough."

My phone buzzed in my pocket. Lincoln's name flashed on the screen, and my heart did that stupid little flip it always did.

"That him?" Zelda asked, though she clearly knew the answer.

I nodded, staring at the phone like it might explode.

"You can run from a lot of things, Chloe," Zelda said, already backing away to give me privacy. "But eventually, you run out of places to hide from yourself."

I stared at my phone long after Zelda left, Lincoln's name still illuminated on the screen. The call had gone to voicemail. I'd deal with it later—or never. Never seemed like a solid option.

The drive home was a blur. I barely remembered pulling into my gravel driveway, the familiar crunch of stones under tires offering no comfort. My cottage stood silhouetted against the darkening sky, windows glowing with warm light. At least Frosty had remembered to turn the lights on.

I trudged up the steps, mentally rehearsing how I'd explain my funk to my nosy familiar. Maybe I could fake a migraine and retreat to my?—

"Ah, there she is!"

I froze, hand on the doorknob. That wasn't Frosty's voice.

I pushed the door open to find Augustus Sands—Lincoln's ninety-something grandfather—comfortably ensconced in my reading chair, teacup balanced on his knee, looking for all the world like he'd been waiting for the cable guy rather than making an unannounced four-hour journey to my hidden cottage.

"Mr. Sands?" I blinked rapidly, wondering if I'd finally cracked and started hallucinating distinguished elderly warlocks.

"Please, I've told you to call me Auggy or Grandpops." He set his teacup down with the precise movements of someone accustomed to handling priceless artifacts. "Your familiar makes an exceptional Earl Grey. The secret's in the temperature, you know."

Frosty strutted in from the kitchen, wearing the ridiculous chef's apron Lincoln had given him as a joke. "I told him you'd be home soon. I've prepared cucumber sandwiches and those little lemon tarts you pretend not to like but secretly devour when you think I'm not looking."

"I—what are you—how did you—" My brain short-circuited, unable to form a complete sentence.

Augustus smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "I hope you don't mind the intrusion. Lincoln mentioned you were attending a town meeting, so I thought it the perfect opportunity for us to speak privately."

"About what?" I managed, still standing awkwardly in my own doorway.

"About Apex Media, of course." His golden eyes—so like Lincoln's—fixed on mine. "And about my grandson's happiness."

I stood there gaping like a teenager caught sneaking in after curfew. In my own house. This day kept getting better.

"Come in, dear, you're letting the cool air out," Augustus said, gesturing to the empty chair across from him.

My legs moved automatically. I sank into the chair, still trying to process the surreal sight of Lincoln's grandfather in my living room, calmly sipping tea like we had standing Tuesday appointments.