Page 57 of A Witch in Notting Hill
The list was endless.Who you are outside of the shop. Why you don’t believe in magic. What usually keeps you up at night. What your kisses taste like and how you sound in bed.
What you think about when you’re alone.
“Tell me about your granduncle,” I said instead, trying to stay in safe territory.
“Ah, Uncle Arthur,” he said, rolling onto his back and folding his hands behind his head. “He was quite the man. The kind of man everyone wishes to have looking out for them. Especially if you have a shit dad and no one else to rely on. Uncle Arthur died a couple years back. Dementia and that.”
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered. “I bet you miss him.”
“You’ve no idea,” he said with a sigh.
“I think I do.” He rolled back over to look at me. “The grandmother I pretended we were finding the spell for? She died a few months ago.”
“God, Willow, I’m sorry. I had no idea. I wouldn’t have given you such a hard time about the lie if I—”
“I know,” I said. And I did. “I didn’t say that so you’d feel bad. I said it so you’d know we have more in common than you think.”
He laughed softly, and I wanted to wrap the sound around me like a blanket. “I didn’t think we had anything in common, if I’m honest.”
“Pleasantly surprised?” I asked. “Or terribly disappointed?”
“Bit of both, to be fair.”
“Can’t argue with that.”
“You tell me something.”
“I just did.”
“Doesn’t count.”
“Why not?”
“It was in response to my thing.”
“That doesn’t mean it wasn’t something.”
“Hey, wankers, some of us are trying to sleep,” Lola said at full volume, making both of us jump.
“Saved by the bell,” Oliver said. “Don’t think I won’t hold you to this.”
“Fine by me,” I said. “Plenty of time to think of a suitable lie.”
“What am I to do with you?”
“Go to sleep,” Lola said. “That’s what you’re to do.”
We both laughed, and Lola pulled the covers up over her head.
“Good night, Willow.”
“Good night, Oliver.”
“And good night, Lola,” we said at the same time, before rolling over and finally nodding off to sleep.
Chapter 22
Oliver
