Chapter 17

Chapter

Seventeen

I didn't doanything else exciting the rest of the day, I promise you that. A little bit of shopping, a walk on the beach — that was it. I even passed up lunch with Iris, claiming jet lag.

But now it's evening, and I find myself in the inn"s cozy kitchen, the scent of peaches filling the air as I focus on the task at hand. Baking has always been my way to find peace, to turn chaos into order, and ingredients into something whole. The rolling and crimping of the pie crust, the slicing of the peaches—it"s all meditative, grounding.

As I work the dough, my mind drifts back to the secret meadow. It was like something out of a fairy tale, all wildflowers and sunlight, so peaceful it almost made me forget why I was there. Almost. And Morgan, with his easy smile and that laid-back way he has about him, like he"s got all the time in the world and not a single worry. How does someone get to be like that?

I bite my lip, thinking about the moment he caught me mid-air. Talk about a dramatic save. It could've ended much more tragically, but there he was, swooping in like a hero. It's kind of embarrassing how much I needed that save, but also kind of nice? The only thing I know is that no one's ever looked out for me like that. Tomas sure as hell never did.

"Helloooo, dear!" Gigi sweeps into the kitchen like she"s the star of her own show, which, in a way, she always is. She has a twinkle in her eye that says she"s up to something, and sure enough, she"s clutching a mug that"s practically steaming with mischief.

"Don"t worry; it's more magic than cognac this time," she laughs, placing the mug in my hands like it's a secret potion. "This'll fix what ails you. And if it doesn"t, at least you"ll enjoy the ride." Her laugh is raspy and full of life like she"s seen it all and still finds it hilarious.

I sniff the mug cautiously. It's like getting a hug from the inside out. "Is this even legal?" I joke, because with Gigi, you never quite know.

She winks, the silver in her hair catching the light. "Darling, in Mystic Hollow, magic"s as legal as the sunrise. Now, shoo, get some of that beautiful night air. This kitchen"s too small for the both of us… and a pie," Gigi insists, her tone brooking no argument.

I eye the first pie finishing up in the oven.

"I'll keep an eye on it. Might take a tiny slice, but I promise it"ll mostly be there when you get back."

"If you insist…"

"I do. Now, go on."

I don't argue because, truthfully, now that I'm done baking, I need something else to do. Something to occupy my thoughts.

The beach at night is a different world. The hustle of the day gives way to a serene calm. I wrap a shawl tighter around my shoulders, the ocean breeze a gentle caress against my skin. Families are dotted along the shoreline, children"s laughter mingling with the rhythmic crash of the waves. It"s a scene right out of a postcard, and for a moment, I let myself just be, a spectator to these simple, joyful moments.

The crackle of the fire draws me closer, the warmth welcome against the evening chill. I settle into a beach chair, the mug clasped between my hands, the heat seeping into my bones.

Eliza finds me here, her eyes scanning the beach, presumably for her brother. "Have you seen Morgan?" she asks, a playful lilt in her voice.

The mention of Morgan sends warmth through my chest, a mixture of gratitude and something else I can"t quite place. "No, I haven"t seen him," I manage, hoping my voice doesn"t betray the sudden jumble of my thoughts.

Eliza settles next to me, her gaze soft and inquisitive. "It"s okay; I know he's good-looking, and he definitely has his eye on you," she teases, a grin spreading across her face.

I fumble for words, my mind a maze of emotions. "It"s not like that... I"m not looking for... It"s just—" The words tumble out in a clumsy rush.

Eliza raises her eyebrows.

I shake my head. "Sorry, my life's been a bit of a mess lately."

"You said it was complicated," she reminds me of my comment last night.

I nod. A solid, decisive movement.

"Wanna talk about it?"

The flames from the bonfire cast an orange glow, making the sand beneath my feet seem to shimmer. I take a deep breath, the salty air filling my lungs, and decide to lay it all out there.

"It's basically been one of those weeks where I've started questioning all my life choices," I begin, watching the fire crackle and pop. Eliza leans in, her attention fully on me now, the light from the flames dancing in her eyes.

"I had this job, right? It was okay. I was gaining a ton of experience, and the owner was sort of my mentor. Buuuuut," I draw the word out, "it turns out she was more interested in stealing my work than anything else." My voice is steady, but inside, the hurt from that betrayal still stings.

"And then there"s Tomas, my ex," I continue, the name leaving a bitter taste in my mouth. "I came home yesterday to find him in the bathtub…with someone else." Saying it out loud, here, with the ocean as my witness, makes it feel all the more real, all the more final.

"Holy—"

"Yeah. I quit my job and found out my boyfriend was cheating on me all on the same day," I say.

Eliza"s expression softens, her usual playful demeanor replaced with genuine sympathy. "That"s rough. I can"t even imagine what I"d do in your shoes."

"Well, you could run away to a magical coastal town and pretend all of your problems have disappeared." I raise my mug along with the suggestion.

"I hope there's something more than hot cocoa in that cup," Eliza remarks.

"I'm pretty sure what's in this mug isn't even legal. Gigi made it," I supply to Eliza's raised eyebrows.

We sit in silence for a moment, the sounds of the night and the gentle lapping of the waves providing a comforting backdrop to my confessions. It"s then that Eliza"s phone interrupts the peace, her ringtone a cheerful melody that feels out of place with the mood.

"Sorry, one sec," she apologizes as she answers the call. Her face falls as she listens, and I can tell the news isn"t good.

"Hang on, what? She did what?" Eliza abruptly stands. She listens for a moment longer. "Is she okay? Can I bring her anything?" Eliza listens some more before making the person on the other end of the line promise to call her with an update as soon as possible.

"Is everything okay?" I ask, even though everything clearly isn't.

"That was Kylie's mom, my baking partner?"

I nod to say that I remember her.

"She broke her wrist, can you believe it? It's bad enough to need surgery." Eliza shakes her head, clearly feeling sorry for her friend. "I'm in shock. I feel so bad that she's hurt, and it's seriously the worst possible time."

"Oh no, your competition." I wince.

"There is no competition, not for us. You have to have a partner to compete, and without Kylie, I'm solo."

Eliza"s gaze pierces mine, a calculating glint sparking in her eyes as if she"s piecing together a puzzle and I"m the missing piece. "You know, Claire, you"re a pastry chef, right? How do you feel about filling in?" Her voice is casual, but there"s an underlying excitement that can"t be missed.

The question catches me off guard. Me, compete? After everything that"s happened lately? Do I even want to? The thought of competition, of putting myself out there in such a public way, seems daunting. And magic? That"s not exactly in my wheelhouse. "I don't know anything about magic, remember? Ask your brother. I can barely shift," I counter, the words laced with a mix of hesitation and self-doubt.

"But you can bake, right?" There"s a gentle challenge in her voice, an invitation to step beyond my comfort zone.

"Of course." The words escape me almost defensively. In my mind, I"m back in the kitchen, surrounded by the comforting aroma of peach pies, the steady rhythm of baking grounding me in a way few other things can.

Eliza"s grin is infectious. "Come on, it"ll be fun. Plus, the winners take home twenty-five thousand dollars. That's a lot of cash, am I right? And who knows, might be just what you need to get your mind off things."

I hesitate, but Eliza's right. That is a lot of cash. Seeing I just quit my job and I'll need to find a new place to live makes it even more appealing. "Okay, yeah. Let"s go for it." The words are out before I can fully grasp the implications, a spontaneous decision that feels both terrifying and exhilarating. I seem to be doing that a lot lately.

Eliza"s response is immediate, a burst of joy that lights up her features. "Awesome! This is going to be great. Trust me." Her confidence is infectious, a spark that kindles a flicker of hope within me.

I'm not sure it'll be great. I just hope it won't be a disaster.