“But do you have to be on location to do it? Is everyone required to commute in person to Enchantify HQ?”
She reached up to stroke the corkscrew Albuca that was swaying its swizzled shoots above her head, poking at her hair like a playful toddler. Like most of her apartment, the picture window behind her was lined with lush potted plants, every spare inch hosting the kind of exotic, persnickety flora that would’ve made me break out into a cold sweat at the prospect of keeping them alive. The entire place was rigged for their optimal happiness, from pink-shifted LEDs feeding them just the right spectra of light, to the dewy warmth Lin maintained throughout the seasons, all in addition to lavishing them with magic and love.
If you asked me, for something that （usually） didn’t even talk back to you, plants had way too little chill.
“Or could you actually do what Talia suggested, and work remotely some of the time?” she went on.
“I assume it’s not impossible,” I said, trying to suppress the treacherous flutter of excitement that brushed against my belly at the thought. Apparently my gut, at least, was not fundamentally against this idea. “Some of the staff do live out of state. No one in a position like mine—but I’ve been there for nearly five years now, almost from the start. I wouldn’t know for sure unless I asked, but I think they’re pretty invested in keeping me on deck. So they might go for it, as long as I was still willing to spend as much time in the city as necessary.”
“Which of course you would be,” Lin pointed out, deadpan. “So as to not miss too many random pop-ups.”
I snickered, throwing a fortune cookie at her. She snatched it easily out of the air, courtesy of all those years on the softball team, then calmly unwrapped it and snapped it in two, sliding the fortune out. “You are such an asshole, Thorn.”
“Just keeping it real for you, city slicker.” She grinned, popping half the cookie into her mouth. “Someone clearly has to. But seriously, like you said—that stuff matters to you. So why not consider figuring out a way to have what you like best of both worlds?”
“Because I don’t know if I even want them both,” I said, sobering. “I really don’t, Lins. Yeah, maybe I wouldn’t be just the Harlow girl anymore if I moved back here, but you can’t deny this town’s magical community is fundamentally caste-based. Living here, you can’t get away from all that mess. And it still kills me that my magic isn’t stronger, and I’d have to live with that every day, too.”
“But then there’s the rather large problem of the girl,” she pointed out. “Hate to break it to you, but if Talia’s not willing to come to you, I’m pretty sure you’re not going to find another of her in Chicago.”
“No,” I said dully, dragging my hands over my face. “I think there may only be one of her. Full stop.”
“You’re really falling for her, aren’t you?” Linden said, with such a wealth of gentle sympathy that my throat went tight again. “And way ahead of schedule, too.”
“Right? With most anyone else, the only thing I’d be sure of by now would be the chemistry.” I gave a brittle half laugh, fiddling with my fingers. “And instead, the idea of not seeing her again—of not ever knowing what we could have been—truly makes me want to hurl.”
“Sounds like you’re in a right pickle, my bud,” Lin said. “I wish I could make it better for you.”
“You sure we can’t at least try the hands?” I wheedled. “This is kind of like a really bad hangover . . .”
“Unfortunately, the hands are pretty useless when it comes to matters of the heart,” Lin replied, with a rueful smile. “Trust me, both Rowan and I have tried all sorts of charms to that effect. Turns out it’s true what they say, about how nothing quite does the trick like time. Although, TBH, vengeance pacts also do seem to help.”
“Leave it to magic to let you down when you need it most.” I slumped back against the sofa chair, heaving an exaggerated sigh. “Guess I’ll just be doomed and wretched. Is that what the fortune says?”
“Let us see.” She unrolled the paper then looked up at me, shooting me a conspiratorial grin. “？‘When Pearl Dragon and cheap wine and even magic have all failed us . . . there will always be Buffy marathons.’？”
“It does not say that.”
She shrugged, toggling her phone into remote control mode. “Nah, it says that your business will prosper. But as your forever bestie, you can’t tell me I don’t get to take at least a little poetic license.”