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Chapter Forty-One

W hit recognized Clover’s magic, whipping into a sandstorm as she gave Faustina a piece of her mind. Silently, he projected his magic outward to envelope hers within it.

He didn’t much care if Faustina knew Clover was a summer witch. Everyone would know eventually. But if Faustina was back in town, she would see people he knew. And he couldn’t have word getting back to Grandfather just yet, not until he found out the truth from Whit.

Even in her fury, Clover’s magic wasn’t difficult to mask. Faustina would no doubt recognize that the winter magic that surrounded Clover was his, but it would only appear as if he supported her in her words, which he did.

Whit stared at Faustina, her face flush with rage and embarrassment. She’d likely never been spoken to this way in her entire life. It hadn’t been so very long ago that this expression from her would have incited his need to protect. He could remember their good times together clearly though they were overshadowed by the bad ones. He had loved her. He remembered that, but it was as if he were recalling a past life rather than just a few years back. He remembered the words—love, lust, laughter, tears—but he couldn’t feel the emotions.

Even now, with his wife ripping her a new one, he couldn’t get over the shock of Faustina’s reappearance. Had she really expected him to welcome her back—to forgive and forget? If he wasn’t so disgusted, he might have wondered what had happened to her in the last few years to make her come back to an unambitious good-for-nothing—as she had labeled him when she’d left.

Whit’s mind came back into focus when Clover mentioned their future children. A jolt ran up his spine. Children? But he shook himself. She’s just making her point… Isn’t she?

Nearly forgetting Faustina was there, Whit looked at the back of Clover’s head, her shoulders tense as she stood before him like a bodyguard.

Bringing a child into a loveless house didn’t seem like the best idea. Does she want children?

If they had gone about things in the normal way, this was something they would have discussed long before getting married. It was clear his grandfather expected children to come of his marriage; otherwise, he would’ve willed the house to Caldwell regardless. And it wasn’t that he didn’t like children. It was more that Whit had given up on the idea a while ago, the same time he’d given up on the idea of a wife.

“You’ve got some nerve,” Faustina growled.

Her words pushed Whit’s thoughts from his mind. He rested his hands gently on Clover’s shoulders as she lifted her chin.

“I’ve got every right,” Clover said. “You come into my husband’s shop, thinking you’re going to get back together with him after how long? What did you expect? Did you think his life was over after you were no longer in it? Did you think he’d be waiting for you? He’s moved on, and if you have any self-respect, you’ll do the same.”

Faustina’s dark eyes shifted to Whit’s over Clover’s head. She shook her head in that same disappointed way she had when she’d broken it off with him. “You aren’t worth it,” she spat. Then she turned on her heels and swished toward the door.

“Why you—” Clover jolted as if to follow her.

Whit tightened his grip on her shoulders. “Just let her go,” he said softly.

Once Faustina was outside, Clover spun around—her eyes solicitous with concern.

“I’m sorry,” Clover and Whit both said at once.

Clover huffed a laugh through her nose. “You go ahead.”

Whit nodded. “I’m sorry you had to deal with that. I haven’t seen her in years, and I didn’t expect to ever see her again. You shouldn’t have had to step in. If I’d have just?—”

Clover shook her head. “No. Don’t do that. None of this was your fault. I gathered from context she was your ex… I’m sorry if I overstepped. I don’t know anything about how your relationship was. But when I saw her reach out to you like that”—Clover clicked her tongue—“I should’ve let you handle it. You could’ve had all kinds of things you wanted to say to her, and I?—”

“I didn’t,” Whit said firmly. “I don’t.”

A soft smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. Was it only a few days ago in this very room he’d thought Clover wouldn’t care about Luisa hitting on him? I didn’t know my wife was so fierce.

Clover’s eyes danced like cornflowers in the breeze. “What’s that look you’re giving me, Husband?”

He shook himself, uncertain of the expression he’d been wearing but suspecting it led someplace they might both regret, someplace that would overcomplicate their relationship while they were still getting used to each other, someplace they couldn’t come back from.

She chuckled, and it sounded indulgent to him. Then she sighed, shaking her head. “What am I going to do with you?” she murmured.

But before he could wonder what she meant by that, her phone pinged from the counter at the front of the store. Turning away from him, she went to pick it up.

She frowned at her phone, then glanced up to meet his gaze—uncertainty swimming in her eyes.

“Um, do you mind if I babysit my niece tomorrow night?”

Something about her question made him sad. “You don’t need to ask my permission,” he told her. “Your family is my family.”

His patient reminder won him a brilliant smile.

“I hope you like mac’n’cheese and dino nuggets.”

“Who doesn’t?” he asked, smiling at how pleased she was by his simple words.