Page 13 of My Faire Lady

The path straightens out, and in the distance, Frankie walks back and forth behind the bar, lining the shelves with metal tankards. Boden leans against the counter, and while his back is to us, I have no doubt he senses me coming.

Better get all of my questions out now. “Why’d you change your mind about the job? When Boden offered it to you, you seemed pretty adamant about not wanting it.”

“It’s kind of a long story.” She worries the ribbon of her corset, twisting her fingers through the loops.

“Those are my favorite kind.”

She looks up at me from beneath her lashes—nearly sweeping my feet out from under me. Her doe eyes widen, and she blinks, returning her attention to the path. I stare at her a second longer as she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth.

“Unless you don’t feel comfortable sharing,” I say. “It’s none of my business.”

“It’s not that.” She shakes her head. “I lost my grandmother last year, but before she died, I’d ask her to tell me stories about her life. She’d always say they were too long, and I’d say the same thing. That the long stories are my favorite.”

My stomach clenches. “The same grandmother who brought you fabric from France?”

She nods, swallowing as she swipes her fingers beneath her eyes and fixes her mascara.

“Bring those clothes back next weekend,” I say. “I’ll see what I can do. We have stain remover specifically for getting those kinds of stains out.”

It wouldn’t be the first time I used a spell for laundry, and for something so precious to her…well, it’s the least I could do.

“You’d do that?” she whispers, glancing at the bar growing closer.

“Yeah, it’s really no big deal.” I slow my steps. “We can walk slower, then this story can be as long as you want.”

A smile tugs at her lips, one that I have to pull my attention away from.

“Well, I didn’t go to college,” she says. “So, I’m entering a contest for a full-ride scholarship to a costume design program. And, well, I accepted this job because I need a portfolio to submit, along with a fully designed piece.”

My lip quirks. “That would explain the counteroffer. Where’s this program, then? Boston University?”

She shakes her head. “Scotland. Edinburgh, specifically.”

My stomach falls, and a vise twists around my sternum. She’s like every other human who passes under the gates—temporary. Come the end of the season, she’ll not only be gone, but she’ll be across the world, in a place I can only visit through my mother’s postcards.

She can leave. I can’t.

I swallow. “Do you think you’ll win?”

“I don’t know.” A long, heavy sigh comes from her. “I don’t have as much experience as some of the other entrants. I’m not sure if my stuff will be good enough.”

Her voice trails off, and words bloom in my mouth—ones of comfort and encouragement. But they don’t make the jump. I ache to ease her mind, but something within me resists the vulnerability.

The conversation ends, and a heavy silence takes root between us, growing denser the closer we get to the bar. Frankie nods in our direction, and Boden turns, offering us a wave. I lock down my thoughts, but I don’t sense him trying to pry his way into my mind. Maybe the look on my face says enough.

Or he’s paging through Lottie’s thoughts.

“We’re excited to have you back,” Boden says to Lottie as we come to a stop. He hooks a thumb over his shoulder. “Frankie’s the best barmaid we’ve got.”

Frankie’s gaze shifts between Lottie and me, and as our eyes catch, her lips quirk. I grit my teeth and shake my head, but the succubus only paints a saccharine grin onto her face.

“You’re in good hands,” I say to Lottie without looking her in the eyes. “I’ve got to go get ready for opening.”

Boden knocks on the barrier to my mind, but I ignore him and turn on my heel, walking back the way I came.

At the end of the summer, there could be an ocean between Lottie and me. The more distance between us now, the better.

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