A terrible sadness falls upon me, draining all my energy. He’s right about a lot of things. I know better than anyone: Making attachments with people that you’re going to have to leave hurts. It’s why I never do. Ever. But here I am, breaking my own rules. Rushing back into old habits with him—and worse. Trying to make new habits with him.

“Maybe we should stay away from each other until this gets sorted out,” I say, a little dazed. “I guess that’s what you were trying to do over the last few days.” Detachment.

“No.”

“No?”

He shakes his head, pries my fingers away from my camera, and sets it atop the brick wall. Then he wraps his arms around me and pulls me against him.

“Dammit,” I whisper into his shirt.

“I know,” he says against my head. “I know.”

“If this is a pity hug …”

“Shut up. It’s not a pity hug. Let me hold you, okay? You could try holding me back. If it won’t kill me, then it won’t kill you.”

My arms are folded up between us. My last line of defense. “You don’t know that. It might. I’m cursed, remember?”

“Told you already, I don’t believe in curses.”

“Doubt they care if you believe or not,” I tell him, allowing myself to loll against his shoulder and chest—just a little. But I keep my arms folded up like a bird’s wings. I can hear his heart thumping, steady and strong, faster than I’d expect. I try to concentrate on it until my muscles relax a little more. He smells really good. I’d forgotten already.

“We’re going to figure this out, okay?” His deep voice reverberates through his chest and into my bones. “Your grandmother doesn’t come back for a year. A year is a long time.”

“A year is a long time,” I repeat.

His hand strokes a path up my back. He shifts my hair out of the way and holds me tighter, tucking his chin better into my neck, where he speaks in a soft voice against my skin. “I knew when you walked into the bookshop that day that my life was about to change.”

“You did?”

“I did. Maybe it was the curse,” he says, lightness in his voice, “Or … I don’t know.”

“What?”

“Because I saw you, and it just felt like everything that had gone wrong in my life just magically healed … like I’d been walking around all broken, and all my broken pieces suddenly reconnected.”

“Oh,” I whisper on a soft exhale.

He groans. “That sounds stupid.”

“Not at all. I’m magic,” I tease. “That’s what you’re saying.”

“Maybe we’re magic together.”

“It does feel that way, doesn’t it?”

“It really does.”

“Oh, Lucky,” I whisper against him. “What are we going to do?”