Should I have said something? Was silence the best option? Should I go after her?
My mind raced so fast it made my whole head spin, so I did what I knew I needed. I grabbed an amethyst point in my left hand and a rhodonite palm stone in my right and clicked Play on my favorite anxiety-release guided meditations.
Breathing and focusing on the words helped me to calm and ground myself, and I sank into the imagery. It didn’t erase my feelings, but it did allow relaxation to wash through me, and I felt more centered when the recording ended. I took a deep, cleansing breath, put the crystals back on their shelf, and reached for the Fairy tarot deck my grandmother had given me years ago during summer solstice. I’d been so busy the past several days I’d been less consistent with my morning rituals. Hell, that was probably part of the reason I was at loose ends.
I shuffled the cards, letting the repetitive motion and the rippling sound settle me more, then cut the deck, drew two cards, and placed them on the desk. As I flipped the first card, my heart nearly stopped. The Lovers stared up at me, just as it had with the other deck.
No fucking way. Okay. Weird coincidence.
Then I flipped the second card, and I had to sit down. The Two of Summer. The Fairy deck used the four seasons instead of the traditional Minor Arcana groupings. Summer took the place of Cups. I’d pulled the same cards once again.
What was going on here? I’d brushed off the duplicate draw with the other deck, blaming it on not having shuffled enough. But this? I’d never been a whiz at math, but the statistical likelihood of getting an identical draw from two different decks three draws in a row had to be pretty damn low. There had to be an interpretation of the cards I wasn’t thinking of. Sure, this combination indicated soulmates, but if I had ten different readers analyze the draw, they’d give me ten different interpretations.
Maybe it was about making choices and seeking home and family. Except I wasn’t faced with any decisions other than what to do about my feelings for Phoebe, and I was already home with family and feeling very settled about every relationship other than whatever this was with the goddess living in the cottage out back.
Shit.
When two cards were unclear, you could always do a more complete spread, so I did.
The Star, The World, the Ace of Summer, the Ten of Summer.
I couldn’t have hand-selected more love- and soulmate-related cards if I’d tried. What the ever-loving fuck was the universe trying to do to me here?
You know what? It didn’t matter. The reality was that I wasn’t in the market for a relationship and neither was Phoebe, so it didn’t matter what the cards were up to.
Puck strolled into the room, gave an exaggerated stretch, and then jumped onto the desk.
“Hey buddy.” I rubbed his head, and he immediately purred.
His tail swished over the desk, knocking one of the cards to the floor. I looked down. The Lovers.
That was enough of this. I scooped up the card, added it to the others, and tucked them all back into their pouch. No more cards today. I plunked the quartz crystal and a selenite wand on top of the deck, because it obviously needed some major clearing too, then headed to the bathroom for a shower.
Cold water and some vigorous scrubbing took some of the edge off and cleared my head. I was pulling on my T-shirt when my phone rang, and Phoebe sprang back into my mind. Dammit. It annoyed me that she’d been my first thought, then annoyed me further to feel disappointed when I saw it wasn’t her.
“Hey, Gram.”
“What’s wrong, Sammy?” Her uncanny insight was sometimes endearing and sometimes annoying, but right now it grated on me like sandpaper. Could she have asked a more loaded question?
“I’m fine. What’s up?”
She sighed, and I could practically hear her eyes roll. “Could you stop by today? Some people dropped off more donations for the food drive and the boxes are too heavy for me.”
“Absolutely.” I felt bad for being so brusque. She needed my help. And I knew she was only concerned for my well-being, not trying to be a pain. “I’ll swing by in a few and drop them off on my way to the shop.”
“Thanks.” She paused. Her spidey sense was probably tingling, and I was in no mood for more questions.
“See you in a bit.” I hung up. Which I never did when talking to her, which meant whatever she’d sensed I’d just confirmed, and now she’d interrogate the hell out of me when I got to her house.
I sighed, grabbed my keys and wallet off the dresser, and headed out.
The drive took minutes, and I didn’t even have the walk from the driveway to the door to think about how to answer her inevitable questions. She was waiting for me in her front yard.
She pulled me into a hug and kissed my cheek. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” It was a childish answer, but I wasn’t in the mood to be a grown-up, and it was the best I had.
“Trouble with Phoebe?” She squinted in the sunlight. I didn’t know why she bothered. It was clear she could see right through me with no trouble at all.
“No. Maybe. I don’t know.”
She took my hand and led me to the porch steps. “Sit. Talk to me.”
“I don’t think there’s anything to talk about.”
She stared at me without saying a word.
“Okay fine. We had a...moment…and then she seemed kind of freaked-out. But it’s fine. It’s not a big deal. I’m not in the market for a relationship.”
She interrupted me with a head shake and her hand on my knee. “Samuel.”
Oh jeez. Full first name. I was really in for it. “Yes?”
“Don’t you think it’s high time you let your experience with Camilla go?”
I bristled. “What’s that supposed to mean? I let her go. All the way to California. And I got my heart broken. But I let her go for good. I’m not avoiding relationships because I’m pining for her.”
“I never said you were. But you constructed a wall around your heart, and you haven’t removed a single brick from that fortress for half a decade. I know you think you’re keeping yourself safe, but you’re blocking out the good feelings, not just the bad ones.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but she was spot on. That was exactly what I’d done, and she was right. I hadn’t been hurt since, but I hadn’t felt much of anything else either.
Until Phoebe.
Fuck.
She took my hand. “Phoebe makes you feel, doesn’t she? I could see it when you two were together. You’re in sync.”
My shoulders sank. “Not at the moment.”
Her fingers squeezed mine. “Connections like what I see between the two of you don’t always run smoothly, but they don’t end abruptly either.”
“We barely know each other.”
She gave me a look I was all too familiar with—the “have I taught you nothing all these years” look. “You two acted like you’ve known each other for years—lifetimes, even. I could feel it the moment I saw you together. So could Iris.”
“What could I do?” Iris’s bright voice chirped from inside the house, and she stepped onto the porch.
“Samuel has girl troubles.”
“Oh, no.” Iris sat down on the step above us. “What happened? You two seemed so blissful the other night.”
My grandmother threw me another look. “See? I’m not the only one who saw it. And I know you felt it.”
I scowled. “Both of you need to stop letting your imaginations run wild. You know I met my soulmate years ago and things didn’t work out. One and done. Sure, Phoebe and I had some chemistry, but maybe that’s all it was. Maybe that’s all it was meant to be.”
Iris looked at my grandmother. “It’s like he’s forgotten everything we taught him.”
“Right?” She looked me straight in the eye. “You know full well that everyone has multiple soulmates. They come into your life to teach you lessons you need to learn. Things you didn’t learn in past lives. Things you’re struggling w
ith in this lifetime. You get what you need from the connection and then it ends. Not every soulmate is even meant to be a lover, let alone your one and only love.”
Iris picked up where she left off. “Camilla was lovely, Sam. You two grew so much in your relationship. And whether you realize it or not, her moving on was what was right for her journey, and it set you off on yours. You traveled and had wonderful experiences and learned so many things. That was your journey. And now you’re home, and you’ve met someone else.”
“Who wants nothing to do with me.” Saying it out loud smarted.
“Nonsense,” they said in unison.
“What makes you say that?” Iris asked.
“They had sex,” my grandmother answered.
I groaned and tried to get up, but she grabbed my hand.
“Sit still and listen a minute, then you can go do as you please.”
Iris rested her hand on my arm. “Was the sex good or bad?”
My ego didn’t even bother putting up pretenses. “I thought it was amazing, and I think she did too, but this morning she seemed like she regretted it.”
My grandmother still hadn’t let go of my hand. “Phoebe is a grown woman, and I’m sure she has her own share of issues, like we all do. Give her space if she needs it. She’ll be back.”
In spite of myself, I wanted that to be true so badly my heart ached. “You don’t know that.”
“We’ll see.”
I was tempted to tell her about my weird tarot draws, but I thought better of it. She already seemed convinced Phoebe and I were going to get together, and I didn’t need to give her any more reason to think that than she already had. Especially as I had no clue if it would actually happen.
No matter how badly I hoped it would.
21
Phoebe
I’d learned early on that when things clicked with a guy as fast as they clicked with me and Sam, they wanted more. More than I could give them.
I didn’t want to disappoint Sam. I certainly didn’t want to hurt him. And the fact that for the first time in my life I wanted more too scared the living shit out of me.
I was pretty sure the Subaru drove me to the Busy Bean on autopilot, because I was so flustered I could barely think straight. Coffee with Audrey helped, as did scoping out the Bean’s menu so I could make sure I wasn’t duplicating anything with my menu plans.
The initial round of Speakeasy interviews was scheduled for that afternoon, but I arrived while it was still morning. Food vendors hadn’t begun delivering supplies yet, but some of the basic cookware was already there. I’d stopped at the grocery store and picked up flour, cheese, eggs, yeast, garlic, and a few other spices. I needed to bake to calm down and didn’t want to go anywhere near Sam’s kitchen to do it. And I had to bake savory things so I could pretend it was my first round of sample items for the bar to hand out to customers instead of admitting it was much-needed stress baking.
By the time the interviews rolled around, I’d whipped up multiple batches of gougères—asiago and manchego—several flatbreads, cheese straws, and some parmesan crisps.
It helped. When the first interviewees arrived, I was focused and calm. Well, calmer.
“I’ll be in touch early next week and let you know.” I ushered the last person out the door. At least one of them had potential as a server. The other two maybe for bussing? Thankfully, several other applications had been sent in, so I had a lot more candidates to choose from. It surprised me a small town had so many people searching for work.
Alec popped his head into the kitchen, startling me. I hadn’t even realized he was there but he must have been in the office down the hall the whole time I was cooking. “Damn, it smells like an actual restaurant in here. What have you been up to?”
“Just making some assorted free samples for the regulars to try tonight. Thought we could start tonight with the theme of cheese.” I held out a tray of gougères. They’d crisped perfectly in the oven and were light and airy, just as they should be.
He popped one into his mouth and grinned as he chewed. “Very nice.”
“These are tiny, so great for munching at the bar, but I can also do bigger ones to fill with cold cuts or chicken salad...”
He snapped off a piece of garlic flatbread and crunched. “You’re making me hungry just thinking about the possibilities. Keep up the good work.”
“I plan to.”
I found some small, decorative buckets in the storage room, lined them with parchment paper, and filled them with the assorted munchies. When Ty, the general manager, arrived, I motioned him into the kitchen. “Did Alec tell you I’d be making some free samples for you to hand out?”
“Sure did.” He eyed the buckets, and I offered him a tray full of the least attractive or broken pieces.
“These are for you and the other bar staff. I’ll be having the staff try everything I make, so you can describe it to customers accurately.”
“And up-sell?” He munched on a broken gougère. “Damn. These are awesome.”
“I just think the staff should be able to answer when customers ask, ‘Have you had this?’ or, ‘What’s your favorite thing on the menu?’”
“Makes sense. And not gonna lie, if everything is as good as that cheese puff, I’m looking forward to taste-testing every single thing you put on the menu.”
I smiled. I was feeling pretty crappy about my behavior, and the reassurance that I wasn’t screwing up my job as well as my personal life felt comforting.
“Oh, by the way, did I hear you’re hiring a bar manager?”
“You did. Why? You know someone?”
“I do, indeed. I have a friend from New York. He was the bar manager at one of the first places I cooked in Manhattan. He’s awesome and looking to relocate.”
“Have him give me a call.”
“Perfect.” I unlocked my phone and opened my contacts, then handed it to Ty.
He typed in his info. “I’m doing interviews right now, so have him call soon.”
“I’m sure he’ll be in touch right away. His name’s Matteo. Thanks a lot.”
He gave a quick nod, grabbed another gougère, and walked back into the bar area.
There. At least I could do something nice for an old friend. Matteo had messaged to check on me to see how I was handling my “moment of internet fame,” as he’d delicately tried to put it. When he mentioned he and his daughter were looking to move, I instantly told him I thought they were hiring at Speakeasy. At the time, it felt like Colebury had magical healing powers, and I was eager to share that. Now I felt as if I’d broken that spell. Like an idiot.
I tidied up the kitchen, and then I childishly left, worried Sam might show up. He’d said he was a regular after work, and I couldn’t deal with any potential awkwardness in front of my new coworkers.
When had I become this scared and freaked-out by...what? What was it that had me so off-kilter anyway?
Thinking about it just stressed me out more, so I ran errands and made my way home. I drove back past Speakeasy and the rock shop and Sam’s truck wasn’t anywhere in sight. It wasn’t in the driveway when I pulled in either.
I told myself that was good. I could sneak into the cottage in peace and maybe in a day or two we could just go back to being friends as if nothing had happened. So why did I still feel so unsettled? I took another shower, and took extra time conditioning my hair and letting the water—warm this time— pulse against my skin. But the tension was still there.
I pulled on yoga pants and a tank top and sat cross-legged on my bed. There were no messages on my phone. No calls or emails or texts or DMs. Not that I’d been expecting any. I’d cleared my inbox of Speakeasy business earlier. Ellie was still playing catch-up after being away for a month. My social media accounts were still locked.
My stomach churned. Maybe some food would help. I made my way into the kitchen and stared at the contents of my fridge. Nothing looked appealing. I pulled a few grapes from their stems and a
te them, but it did nothing to curb the empty feeling.
What is wrong with me?
Sam popped into my mind. His scent. His strong hands. The tickle of his hair. The way his body felt pressed against mine. Inside mine. His eyes staring into my soul and then closing as he came.
Stop it.
Stop it stop it stop it.
Only I couldn’t. Shit. I didn’t even know if I really wanted to. I’d been so worried that he would want more that I hadn’t stopped running long enough to realize he wasn’t chasing me.
Fuck.
What if he was the one who didn’t want anything to do with me? What if he was regretting sleeping with the woman in the guest cottage who he wouldn’t be able to avoid forever? He’d said he had a bad relationship history. What if I’d triggered some memories of that? Or he felt pressured or weird because I was practically living with him?
Oh god. What had I done?
The sound of tires crunching on gravel drifted through my windows. He’s home. My heart did a somersault. Not because I was afraid he’d come to my door, but because I was afraid he wouldn’t. I held my breath, straining to listen. And heard him go into his own house.
I waited ten minutes. A half hour.
I couldn’t take it anymore.
Without even bothering to put on shoes, I crossed the yard, the soft grass tickling my feet as I tried to figure out what the hell to say. My heart pounded. He’d said I could always just walk into the house, but I felt as if I might have lost that privilege. I took a deep breath, gathering the courage to knock at the back door, but before I could even raise my hand, it swung open.
Sam startled when he saw me. “I was just coming to talk to you.”
Maybe we’re still a little in sync.
22
sam
I’d been so caught up in thoughts of what I was going to say when I got to Phoebe’s door, I hadn’t seen her standing outside mine until I’d almost smacked into her.
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