“Of course you do,” he said, with his usual confidence and a cool smile. “I’m not surprised. Cute new girl from the big city . . . I bet you got a hundred offers.”

“Well, not a hundred.”

Not even one.

Dexter moved slowly backward down the aisle, still smiling. “And I have a date too.”

What?

“So we both have dates. Good. That’s good.” He reached the end of the aisle, and his expression finally faltered. He caught my eye and held it. “Then, I guess . . . maybe next year.”

“Right, next year,” I echoed.

“See ya, Charlie.”

And he was gone.

Next year? I closed a fist around the sparkly purple dress in my hand. Next year, I will be immortal again and will have forgotten all about you, Dexter O’Shea.

My heart skipped, and I felt that weight of mortality that seemed to come in waves.

I hope.

A hand touched my shoulder, startling me into dropping the dress.

“It’s his loss,” Sydney said.

I busied myself with picking up the dress and shoving it back onto the rack so that the twins would not see me flustered. Unlike the pout, flustered was not a look I had practiced.

“You may be more woman than Dex can handle,” Sydney said.

“He’s definitely intimidated,” Sophia agreed.

Dexter didn’t seem the least bit intimidated by me, but girls lying to their friends to make them feel better was one human custom I could get on board with. I let them sling their identical arms around my sagging shoulders and leaned into the support.

An awful, ugly doubt was creeping around the edges of my confidence. Was it possible my power over boys was an immortal charm that had been ripped away when we stepped through Sal’s gate?

My lips met in a grim line. “Boys like that are the worst part of being . . . um . . . in Iowa.”

“And girls like us are the best part,” Sydney said, giving me a squeeze.

I returned her one-arm hug. I could not agree more.

As much as I appreciated the sisterhood of solidarity, I didn’t want Sydney and Sophia to see how truly mortified I was. There was only one person I could trust with that, and when I got back to the village, I went looking for him in the hills behind the cottage.

The landscape had changed in recent weeks from vibrant green to warmer golden hues. Here and there, a bright red tree screamed for attention, and the fields in the distance were flat and brown, dotted with pale yellow rolls of hay. I found Reg sprawled out on a blanket at the crest of a hill, reading a book and waiting for the sun to set. I flopped down beside him in a dramatic swoon.

“If humiliation is on our human agenda, you can check it off my list. I’ve just had the most embarrassing moment of my entire life.”