When the chalkboard signs with pricing were propped just so and the lanterns ready to be lit, Sadie grabbed Sage’s hand and, along with Florence and Raquel, strolled up and down the street, which was already filling with people.
The cross section of fall and winter in Poppy Meadows always smelled like apples and gingersnaps and possibility. This year, the festival seemed even bigger than usual. There were booths with caramel apple–dipping stations and an array of toppings. There were tents for children that offered face painting or stations where you could pour your own candles. Freshly spun apple cinnamon cotton candy wafted down the street, chasing you like desire until you gave in to the temptation. A towering rock wall that children could climb was set up at the end of the street, and an area had been roped off for live music. Firepits were dotted around so festivalgoers could stay warm as the night grew chillier. An antiques booth sold old furniture and rare books, set up like a cozy little living room, complete with a wingback chair and side table. Other vendors sold everything from hand-knit hats and scarves to fairy lights in mason jars. The air was warm and rich, the smells changing every few feet. Lavender and lemon from the handmade soap stall, exotic spices from the sweet and savory nut booth.
And then, the hairs on the back of Sadie’s neck stood on end, and there was a tingle along her spine. She knew, before her eyes found his in the crowd, that Jake was looking for her.
“Hello,” Sage said, looking at Jake as he approached.
He looked at Sadie, whose heart was beating rapid-fire. She couldn’t read his beautiful face. He held a small paper bag in his hand, and there were dark circles under his eyes. Even after all this time, they were eyes she wanted to fall into and never find her way back out of. Her stomach dipped as his eyes hungrily searched hers.
“Sage, why don’t we get back to the booth; I think these two need a moment,” Florence said.
Raquel gave Sadie a look that said, “You okay?” When Sadie nodded subtly, she dipped her head in acknowledgment and said, “Well! Look at that! Kitten calendars!” and walked away, leaving Sadie and Jake swimming in a bubble of silence as the Festival moved around them.
“Come over here,” he said, taking her hand and pulling her behind a tent stall. The light was darker there. Pressing in on them. An invitation for secrets and twined fingers.
“Thanks for the pie,” he finally said.
She didn’t move. She didn’t breathe.
“I wanted to tell you … Bethany faked the pregnancy,” he said quietly.
“I know,” she answered, barely breathing.
“Why am I not surprised?” His low laugh rumbled in his chest, and Sadie felt it in her fingertips. “I would have come to see you sooner, but I needed time to process. I broke it off with her. She’s staying at the Elmwood and leaving tomorrow. I’m having her things packed up and sent to her.”
“Oh.” Sadie could barely talk through the small space that separated them now.
“Look, I was mad at her at first. I was pissed. But I mourn the loss of”—he paused, the words seeming to stick in his throat—“the idea that I could have been a father, not the relationship. You have to know that. I need you to know that. But I can honestly say I wish her the best. Just not with me. It’s always been you.”
They were the words she’d always wanted to hear, so why didn’t she feel better? Because there was still more truth to tell.
“Listen, I need to tell you something.” And she told him everything: she knew he’d had an inkling about the magic, though he didn’t know the full extent of it. Now he did. She told him about the pie and her curse of four heartbreaks.
“Sadie—” he started, then stopped, searching for words.
“It’s a lot to take in, I know. But … I thought I should tell you. You deserved to know the truth.”
His eyes snapped to hers. “The truth,” he said. “You want to know the truth?”
She nodded, her heart in her throat.
“I fell in love with you ten years ago. And I could never love anybody else the way I love you. I’ve been stupid and angry and broken. And I want, more than anything, for you to forgive me.” He handed her the bag he’d been carrying.
Confused, Sadie looked inside. There, like little jewels of hope stacked on top of one another, was box after box of collector spoons.
“The first time I bought one, it made me feel closer to you. And then, I think I started traveling more just to get more spoons for you. I’d go to every little shop until I found the perfect one. It’s pathetic, I know, but it’s always been you.”