I shake my head and force myself to look away.
I have my own story, one that’s been written since the day I was born. And something tells me that if I were to read his, it would become my favorite. So instead, I go home and continue to live out the pages my parents have already written for me.
But maybe I’ll sneak in one of my own, a single page about a beautiful boy with stormy gray eyes, that is just for me.
thirty-three
“You look beautiful,” my mother says as I come down the stairs. I’m wearing a pale pink sheath dress, teardrop earrings, and nude evening shoes. I tug at the dress and smooth it down at the sides, but no matter how I fidget, I can’t get comfortable.
I don’t want my hair pulled back so tightly it gives me a headache and my dress so starched I’m scared of putting a single wrinkle in it. I want to feel like myself, with my hair unbrushed and wild, with interesting jewelry and clothing that moves with me. I want to wear dark colors instead of the pastels my coven favors.
I want to be myself in a space that feels like it wasn’t meant for me.
I shake my head and smile at my mother. I’m just nervous.
“Thanks, Mom,” I say.
My dad puts the finishing touches on the table, and it takes my breath away. Candles run the length of it, different heights and shapes, flickering in the dim room. Autumn leaves are crushed and scattered between them with white rose petals sitting on top. The room smells of the roast my dad made, and he puts a bottle of wine over ice just as the doorbell rings.
I jump at the sound of it.
My mother walks to the door and opens it wide. “Marshall, Elizabeth, welcome to our home! It is so lovely to have you here.”
Elizabeth and my mother exchange kisses on each cheek and throw compliments at each other as if they’re petals being tossed down a wedding aisle. Landon trails behind them, and my mother’s smile widens when she sees him.
“And Landon, it’s so nice to have you here again.”
He hands her a bouquet of flowers and smiles back. “I’m delighted to be here.”
I have to hand it to my future husband—he’s so charming that I almost believe he chose this. Chose me. But I remind myself it’s an act, if a very good one, and that he can promise me many things, but love is not one of them.
“Tana, you’re the best thing I’ve seen all week,” he says, walking over to me and handing me a single rose. “I saved the prettiest one for you,” he whispers.
“You’re quite the charmer,” I say, taking the rose from him.
“Is it too much?” he asks, a smile playing on his lips.
He’s good at this, and he knows he is, but I look at my mother’s beaming face and the rose in my hand. “I think it’s just enough.”
“Good.” He leans down and kisses my cheek. My eyes catch his, and all the playfulness is gone. His gaze moves down to my lips, and for a moment I forget we’re in the same room as our parents.
I take a breath and look down. “I should put this in water.”
I walk into the kitchen, where my dad is getting beverages for everyone. He pops the bottle of sparkling wine and pours each of us a glass, then sets them all on a silver tray that he takes into the other room. I put the rose in water and follow after him, finding my place next to Landon.
“A toast,” Dad says, raising his glass. “To family.”
Heat floods my face, and every muscle in my body tightens. Elizabeth places her hand on her chest, and both she and Marshall raise their glasses with an emphatic, “To family!”
“To family,” Landon says, his voice low enough that only I can hear.
I smile and touch my glass to his, but the wine tastes bitter. I wonder if everyone here feels like I do in my dress, like we’re forcing a lie. But I see the happy expressions on my parents’ faces and the laughter that rolls so easily off Elizabeth’s tongue, and I realize I’m the only one overthinking this.
“Are you okay?” Landon asks me when our parents are deep in conversation.
“Yes, I’m sorry,” I say, setting my glass down. “I think I’m just nervous.”
“Why?”
“I’m not sure. I want your parents to like me,” I say, looking around the room. “I don’t want to mess anything up.”
“They already like you,” he assures me. “And they’ll only like you more as our families continue to spend time together.”
“You think so?”
“I do,” he says, finishing his drink. “It isn’t all for show,” he adds, as if reading my mind. “I am truly happy to see you.”
Something in his words eases the tension I’ve been carrying. “Thank you for saying that.”
“You’re welcome.”
We all sit down to dinner, and I’m relieved at how easy the conversation is. My parents and Landon’s seem to enjoy each other’s company, and seeing them together like this reinforces what a good arrangement this is. Not just necessary, not just advantageous, but good.
“Tana, tell me about yourself. Landon says you love to swim,” Marshall says, looking at me from across the table. His smile is warm, and he sounds like he’s genuinely interested, which I suppose is where Landon gets it from.
“I do,” I say. “I’ve always been drawn to the sea. There’s something about it that calms me.”
Marshall nods. “I was on the swim team all through school. I enjoyed the competition, but practices were my favorite. I’d stay in the pool after my teammates went home and just swim underwater. The way it shuts off the outside world… There’s nothing quite like it.”
“I always say the same thing.”
“Tana loves the ocean,” my dad says, winking at me. “She used to think her mother and I couldn’t see the salt caked all over her. She’s come home many times with seaweed in her hair and her clothes soaking wet.”
“Listen, I never said I was subtle,” I say, and everyone laughs. I laugh, too. “Landon even went in with me the last time he was on the island. I think I could have convinced him to stay in longer had it not been for the currents.”
I don’t realize what I’ve said until my mother snaps her head up and glares at me. My heart races, and I give her a pleading look. I can’t believe I mentioned the currents; it was a total accident.
“What currents?” Marshall asks between bites of his dinner.
“There’s a current that’s been circling our island for years, and sometimes it gets close to the shore. We’ve been watching it carefully and don’t see much reason for concern.” My mother says it with perfect grace, managing to sound casual and decisive at once.
“Well, you just let us know if you ever need our aid. We’d be happy to help,” Marshall says. If he knew the extent of the danger, if he knew the root cause, I suspect he wouldn’t be so kind.
“Thank you, I’ll certainly let you know.”
My mother changes the subject, and soon they’re talking about the economy of the Witchery and what kind of partnerships with the mainland might make sense. After Landon and I are married, the Witchery will become an official territory of the mainland. They will share their resources with us, their knowledge and their plans. Most importantly, they will protect us as if we’re mainlanders. And legally, we will be. But the arrangement goes both ways—we will start paying taxes to the mainland, and they will have a say in how we run our island. It’s economically brilliant for the mainland, and it’s necessary for us.
Right now, the mainland has no legal authority here, which makes a certain kind of person more willing to act out, as with the dock burning, because they think they can get away with it. And the sad truth is that they can.
Still, I hear the things no one says. The mainland knows we need them to continue accepting us and welcoming us into their world; we are far outnumbered by them. If their government decided to do away with witches, they could. And we know the mainland wants to keep an eye on everything we do, that they’re terrified of a resurgence of dark magic, but that they’re also eager for a share of our silver.