“Yeah. That was the guy.”
“Hi.”
Violet looked up, startled to see Henrik standing there. When had he even entered the shop? When had she unlocked the door?
A glance at the clock on the wall told her it was too early for anyone to be in the shop, and too early for the front door to be unlocked. Not even Berk was there yet, and he was her early bird. Surely, she had locked the door the night before. Why had she opened it so early?
“Violet?”
“Hi,” she sputtered back, blinking as she looked up at him.
It had been two days since he was last in the shop, and granted, that had been at night, so the lighting was artificial, and she had only seen his back, but right now, with the morning light shining in behind him, he looked beautiful.
And then, she imagined him on fire, and forced herself to look away.
She couldn’t look at him and think of him as beautiful. She couldn’t look at him and imagine a future together. She couldn’t look at him and dream of kissing him or being with him or simply holding his hand.
It was impossible. There was no future for them. Only pain.
“Hi,” he said again, his voice cracking a little. “Damn, Violet. You are still the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”
Her heart skipped a beat in her chest, and for a moment, she forgot the pain, forgot the fear, forgot the spell. This was her soulmate, the man she was made for, the wolf she was supposed to be with. They were two halves of a whole, formed by nature and bonded together in the most basic of ways.
He was beautiful in ways she could never understand, with his strong jaw and his soft looking hair and his bright eyes and his slightly big ears she always loved, and she... she loved him still. She loved him so much, being away from him hurt to breathe.
Fifteen years apart, and yet, her feelings for him had never changed.
“I brought this for you,” he said awkwardly, and lifted a to-go container for her. “I didn’t cook it myself, obviously, cause I could burn water, but—”
“I literally burn water.”
Wow, way to ruin the moment...
“Yeah, well, this is for you,” he said again, and set it down on the counter. “So, uh, enjoy.”
And just like that, he was turning to leave!
“Wait, where are you—”
“Gotta get to work, Little Witch. But don’t you worry. I’ll be back.”
She smiled as her stomach flipped a few more times, amazed by the smile on his face. So breathtakingly beautiful, and as he turned to walk out the door, she admired the way his t-shirt pulled across his back muscles and the curve of his butt in his jeans.
Oh, she could only imagine how good he looked naked.
With shaky hands, she opened the to-go container, uncertain what would be within. What would he even bring, this early in the morning?
The scent of maple syrup and strawberries hit her immediately as she opened the box, and she stared at French toast. Stuffed French toast.
And just like that, she was a little girl sitting at the counter in his grandmother’s kitchen, watching as she whisked eggs and milk and spices and a little bit of fresh orange juice together to make a meal that Violet always called magic. Old Ansa rarely ever smiled, not at all like her sister Flora, but she did smile while she was making French toast, and she always had a smile for Henrik.
The taste wasn’t exactly the same, but it was unbelievably close, and as she stood at the counter in her shop, she cried, remembering the little girl who had clung to her best friend’s hand. A little girl who knew nothing of fire and only of flowers. A little girl who had no idea of the pain her future would hold.
“Violet,Ihavetotalk to you.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
Violet refused to look up from what she was working on, only, as though she had no control over her own body, her chin raised, and her eyes connected with him. Henrik was standing there, a few paces away, with nothing in between them, not even the desk she had only just been leaning over. Whatever was in her hand disappeared, and so too did his shirt, almost like magic, or like...