Ivy looks bewildered. “Who is he?”
My palms begin to sweat and I drop my gaze to my quilt. I should have known this would be the first thing she asked, and while I hate the idea of lying to her, the alternative is worse. Far worse.
“He’s from the mainland. He missed the last ferry and was camping out on the beach.”
Ivy stares at me, and I’m sure she can see right through my lie, see the dark magic snaking through my veins. Then one side of her mouth pulls up and she stands. “Well, that’s going to require another cup of tea, isn’t it?”
Before I can respond, Ivy is out the door and rushing down the stairs. I hear her in the kitchen, and then she’s back in my room. She closes the door behind her and climbs onto the bed, curling her legs beneath her and pulling her tea to her face.
“I’m ready,” she says.
I laugh and take a sip of my own tea. I tell Ivy all the details I can without giving away who Wolfe is or what kind of magic we practiced. I only tell her what it was like to be in the water with him, but it’s enough. Ivy drifts closer to me, and by the end of the story, she’s hanging on each word as if it’s a lifeline.
When I finally finish, she’s quiet for several seconds.
“Damn.”
“That pretty much sums it up,” I say. I pause before speaking again. “Last night was the first time in my life I can remember making a choice solely for myself, without thinking about what my mother would say or how it would affect the coven. And it worries me because—” I cut myself off. There are certain things that should not be spoken aloud.
“Because it felt good?”
I look at Ivy and nod, ashamed of myself.
“That’s nothing to worry about. I’d be more concerned if you didn’t enjoy making choices for yourself. Of course it felt good. You carry a lot of responsibility, and it’s heavy.” Ivy’s brown eyes are filled with so much love for me, so much understanding. She reaches out and grabs my hand, squeezing tight. “I’m so glad you had a night when things didn’t feel quite so heavy.”
“You are?” I ask.
“There’s something beautiful about it. Even though so much of your life has been mapped out for you, you still had this night that was entirely unscripted. Entirely your own.”
I’m embarrassed when my eyes fill with tears. I turn away from her and wipe my face, taking a deep breath.
When I’ve regained my composure, I look at Ivy and offer a smile. “Thank you for saying that.” I lean into her, and when we’ve finished our tea, I take our mugs and set them on my dresser.
“Okay,” I say, standing in front of her and spreading my arms. “Make me presentable for my future husband.”
“Tana,” Ivy says, her voice chastising, “there’s only so much magic can do. Go shower.”
She watches me for several seconds, and then we burst out laughing. I do as I’m told, running the shower as hot as it will go. Scalding water pours over my head and down my body, washing away any trace of Wolfe, any trace of our night together.
I turn off the shower, watching until the last drops of water swirl down the drain. Then I get out, dry off, and prepare myself for Landon.
* * *
I begged my parents to let me come down the stairs before Landon arrived, but no such luck. My mother wants me to make an entrance.
I can hear my parents doting on him, and I nervously look at Ivy. “Think they’ll scare him off?”
“I suspect he’s used to involved parents,” she says.
“Thank you for this morning.” I take a final look in the mirror, but I know I look perfect for the occasion. Ivy’s magic erased any trace of last night. My makeup is subtle and fresh, making my blue eyes pop and my lips look as if I’ve just licked them. I used my own magic to blow out my hair and smooth it back into a classic chignon my mother will love. I’m wearing a camel-colored shift dress, a string of pearls around my neck, and nude leather shoes with a square heel.
It isn’t what I would have chosen for myself, but I look put together and classic, and most importantly, I look like someone who belongs by Landon’s side.
“You’re welcome,” Ivy says, handing me my shawl.
I give her a quick hug, then take a deep breath and walk toward my bedroom door.
“Tana?”
I turn and look at Ivy.
“Enjoy yourself.”
I nod and open the door. When I come around the bend in the stairs, I see Landon waiting at the bottom for me. He smiles when he sees me, and much to my surprise, I smile back. Relief floods me as I realize it’s nice to see him.
He’s wearing a white collared shirt with a tweed jacket on top, and I suddenly get the feeling that we’re playing dress-up, wearing these clothes that are meant to portray a level of maturity that I, at least, don’t feel.
But I suppose if I’m going to play a part, there are worse people to play with than Landon.
“Tana, you look lovely,” he says when I get to the bottom of the stairs.
“Thank you,” I say. “So do you.”
My parents are watching us, and I’m thankful when Landon asks what I have planned for the day.
“A picnic. We’ll choose our food from some of the shops on the Witchery, and then I thought I’d take you to one of my favorite lookouts to eat.”
Landon’s smile is easy and generous, and it looks like he’s truly excited. “Sounds perfect,” he says.
I grab the basket and two blankets from the table and say goodbye to my parents, and then we head to the door. Landon opens it for me, but just then I hear Ivy sneak down the stairs, and we both turn to look at her.
Something like gratitude settles on her face when she sees us together. Ivy, my best friend, who has known about this arrangement almost as long as I have, is still struck by the magnitude of it. I blink several times and look away, trying not to get caught up in the emotion of the moment.
“Have fun, you two,” my mother says.
Ivy clears her throat, and I give her a small smile before walking out the door with Landon.
“Thank you for coming out here,” I say to him.
“I’m glad to be here. Thank you for planning such a great day—it will be wonderful to see the island through your eyes.”
“I really love it here,” I say, falling in step beside him.
“Will it be difficult for you to leave?”
I pause and look at him. “Yes,” I answer honestly.
He nods. “Then we’ll have to create many reasons for you to visit.”
It’s a kind thing to say, thoughtful and sweet, but it still doesn’t feel like enough. And that’s when I realize my life with him might not be enough. It will be so many things: good, important, monumental, safe.
But it might not be enough. And I have to learn to be okay with that.
“What are you thinking about?” Landon asks me after I’ve been quiet for too long, looking out across the water instead of responding to his comment.
“Our life together.”
“What about it?”
“I was thinking that if I’m not going to have a lot of say in who I spend my life with, I’m glad I’m ending up with you.”
“And why is that?”
“Because we believe in the same things. We value family and duty and progress; many marriages have been built on far less.”
“That’s certainly true,” he agrees. “Do you think you ever would have chosen me on your own?”
The question catches me off guard, and I pause before answering. “I’ve always known I didn’t have a choice,” I say. “But maybe I would have.” I can see myself loving Landon one day. I can see that spark appearing. Maybe under different circumstances, I would have chosen him for myself. “What about you?” I ask.
“I’ve never given it much thought. But under any circumstance, I would choose to honor my family. And my family has chosen you.”
It isn’t romantic or transformative or even sweet, but it’s honest. And that’s the most we can offer each other right now.