“Oh, no,” she says. “Milo texted—apparently there’s trouble with the Maynards deal. We should get back and hop on a video call.”
“Oh, too bad!” Hope says, rising to her feet. “Maybe we can all meet for a drink some time before you leave.”
Pear and Prue each give her kisses on the cheek. I know they are lying about an emergency—as far as I know there is no such thing as a Maynards deal—but I’m grateful for their interference.
As soon as they leave, I invite Hope on a walk.
“I’d love to,” she says.
“So, this is going to sound convenient,” I say. “But I had planned to call you. Today.”
She rolls her eyes at me.
“I mean it. I’ve wanted to do it for months, but I wasn’t sure you’d want to hear from me.”
She doesn’t deny this. She just asks: “What changed?”
“It’s quite absurd,” I warn her. “Actually, I don’t even want to tell you.”
“Well, now you have to,” she says.
“Prue and Pear made me pull a tarot card from this deck we found. And I got the Empress.”
Her eyes widen.
“I thought it was a sign,” I go on. “Because I haven’t stopped thinking about you since we left the Bahamas.”
She takes a deep breath. “I’m going to say something terrifying,” she says.
“Try me.”
“I haven’t stopped thinking about you either.”
Hope
There are so many things I’ve wanted to say to Felix since last summer. But now, in his presence, they escape me.
We’re both silent as we walk to the beach.
I wonder if all the time apart was too much for us. If, for all my happiness at seeing him, that spark that burned so hot died from lack of oxygen.
“I’m sorry I’m quiet,” he says. “I’m nervous.”
I’m grateful for his directness. It’s a quality that drew me to him from the start.
“Same,” I admit.
“I wanted to call you last year, when I got back to London. Very badly. But I thought it would be unfair to contact you, after the way things ended. That I should leave the ball in your court.”
“I didn’t realize there was still a court at all,” I say. “You said you didn’t want to stay in touch. I’m not one for chasing balls I can’t catch.”
He turns to me and stops walking. “I was scared.”
“Of what?”
“That if I let myself acknowledge how much I felt for you, I’d be lost.”
My breath catches. “And what did you feel for me?”
