Page 162 of Love Spells: And Other Non-Refundable Magic

The money is back. The order is still there, but its status has changed, and for some reason the sight of that singular word—refunded—makes my stomach drop.

“No,” I say to the universe once more, although at this point it doesn’t really matter, does it? “I don’t want it anymore.”

I open the message, already composing several extremely persuasive arguments about why Flora needs to take my money again.

But another message appears before I can send one. The final step.

I read the little rhymes slowly, then once more from the beginning. She’s hinting at moonlight and somewhere in Queen Anne, where love is waiting for me.

Primavera1959

Do you mean Kerry Park?

The question looks perfectly reasonable on the screen. Three days ago, I would have sent it.

Hell, two months ago I probably would have followed it with three additional questions, just to make absolutely certain I hadn’t somehow misunderstood the very obvious instructions and accidentally ended up on the wrong hill waiting for true love while Flora stood somewhere else wondering whether I had wandered off and gotten hopelessly lost.

But tonight, I look at my own question and I know exactly where she is and what my assignment is.

I disturb Aurora for the second time in five minutes when I get up, and she gives me an irritated little chirp before immediately occupying the warm spot I leave behind.

“Don’t wait up.”

She starts washing her paw.

“Yes, okay.”

I grab my coat and keys, and almost make it to the door before remembering that the shoes on my feet are slippers. And it all feels less like a curse and more like the universe making sure I don’t get too impressed with my emotional development.

Two minutes later, I’m finally outside.

The night is cold and damp, and the air smells faintly like rain, even though it stopped raining in the early afternoon. But the pavement catches the streetlights in long broken reflections regardless, and I pull my coat together as I hurry to my car.

Kerry Park is busy enough that for one terrible second, I think I’ve gotten it wrong.

There are people along the railing despite the cold, phones held toward the skyline. The Space Needle rises beyond them, bright against the dark, with the city spread out around it and a thin haze softening the lights around downtown.

Above it all, the moon hangs pale behind a veil of clouds, just visible enough to make me think of the message again.

I step onto the overlook and immediately see Flora standing close to the railing, both hands tucked into the pockets of her coat.

My stomach flutters the moment I realize she’s looking for me. And once she finds me, something changes in her face, subtle enough that I might have missed it once. Her shoulders loosen, her mouth curves, and whatever uncertainty survived the drive here disappears so completely that I almost laugh.

I start walking toward her. I want to run, but I also don’t want to be that girl.

The cold wind pushes my hair across my face, and I have to shove it away twice before I reach her. Flora watches me do it with the beginning of a smile.

I stop in front of her.

I have thought about her constantly for three days. I have imagined this conversation in several different locations and with wildly varying levels of emotional dignity. I have wondered whether seeing her would make everything feel strange again.

But even with those eloquent thoughts swirling in my brain, the words don’t come out of my mouth.

So naturally, I say, “You refunded me.”

Flora’s smile finally breaks through. “Turns out this was refundable after all.”

“I don’t want it.”