Two
Agatha’s wine glass sat empty in front of her for the third time tonight. She glared at it, as if sheer willpower could refill it.
From an outsider’s perspective, she probably looked ridiculous.
She glanced around the bar, finding the same faces she always did when she set foot in The Witches’ Road. Not that she was here often—maybe once every three months—but Westview was that small. With this being the only bar in town, there weren’t many options. For her or anyone else.
A voice pulled her from her thoughts.
“You know, you could act like you want to be here.”
Agatha looked up to find Alice, one of her best friends, slipping onto the barstool across from her at the booth Agatha had grabbed earlier for the circle of friends. She studied her for a second, already knowing Alice was just giving her a hard time. Because, truthfully, Agatha didn’t want to be here.
She wanted to be at home. With her son. Watching whatever movie he wanted, because it didn’t matter—she just wanted to spend time with him. But Wanda had finally settled into her apartment in Eastview, and she wanted Billy for the week. And unfortunately for Agatha, Billy wanted to stay with Wanda, too.
“It’s just until Friday, Mom. I’ll be back before you know it.”
He’d barely finished the sentence before running out the front door, practically diving into the passenger seat of Wanda’s brand-new luxury SUV.
Agatha wanted to slash its tires. But that could put her son’s safety at risk. Maybe she could just accidentally drag her mail key down the driver’s side doors. Or leave the sunroof open before a storm.
She wouldn’t. She never would.
Because as much as she couldn’t stand Wanda, Billy loved his other mom just as much.
That didn’t change the fact that, for the last seventeen years, Agatha could count on one hand how many times Wanda had actually stuck to her word and shown up for their son. Every game she’d promised to be at? Something came up. Forget the milestones—first steps, first boyfriend. And Agatha could go on, probably for the rest of the night.
But that wasn’t why she was here.
She was at the only bar in Westview to distract herself from Wanda. Not dwell on her.
She exhaled, focusing back on Alice, who had a beer in one hand and was now scanning the room.
Agatha smiled—probably more of a sad smile than she intended. “I’m sorry, Alice. You know how I feel about Wanda taking Billy this week.”
Alice turned back to her, a glint in her eye now. The corners of her mouth turned up in a way that immediately put Agatha on edge.
“Which is why we’re here.” Alice lifted her beer. “Now, let’s find you a distraction, shall we?”
And then she was up again, already scouting the bar like she was on a mission.
Agatha rolled her eyes and stood, placing a hand on Alice’s shoulder to gently push her back down. “Before you start playing matchmaker, I need another drink.” She gave Alice a pointed look. “Then we can find me a distraction.”
Alice sighed dramatically but relented, settling back into her seat. “You know, you could let your distraction buy you a drink.”
Agatha didn’t dignify that with a response. They both knew she wouldn’t. She didn’t like the feeling of owing anyone something after.
So, shaking her head, she made her way toward the bar, carefully stepping over the peanut shells littering the floor—because of course this place didn’t care about ruining her heels.
The bar was packed, but she managed to find an open seat at the end. And, in her defense, it was the only open seat in the whole place. The alternative was sitting next to Herb, and while she liked him well enough, she really didn’t want to get stuck listening to a fifteen-minute monologue about basketball. Or maybe it was football. Either way, she didn’t care.
Pressing her glasses higher up the bridge of her nose, she waited for Vision to take her order.
But before he reached her, someone slid into the stool beside her.
She didn’t look right away—didn’t want to make it obvious. Instead, she let her gaze drift slowly to the side, expecting another familiar face.
But for the first time tonight, Agatha was surprised.
The woman next to her wasn’t a neighbor. Not Steve, Tony, Natasha, or Yelena. Not even an acquaintance from Westview.
No.
This was someone new.
Dark black hair fell just past her shoulders, and though she wasn’t fully facing Agatha, she could see hints of dark makeup dusted around her eyes.
Fuck.
Okay. Maybe Agatha did need a distraction more than she thought.
She let her gaze trail lower. A small tank top—tight, cropped—revealed tattooed arms, one decorated with a tarot card design. Her abs were defined just enough to catch the dim bar light.
Agatha swallowed.
She was very, very thirsty.
Tapping her nails against the wooden bar, she barely noticed as Vision finally approached, already reaching for the wine bottle he knew she was going to ask for. Some things never changed.
“The usual?” he asked, glancing between her and the woman beside her.
Agatha barely spared her a glance—yet—as she nodded. Then, on impulse, she tipped her chin toward the stranger. “And whatever she’s having. On me.”
So maybe Agatha didn’t take drinks from strangers. But she sure as hell would buy one.
Especially for her.
At that, the woman finally turned her head slightly, eyeing Agatha with an unreadable expression.
Agatha just smirked, tilting her head. “Consider it my way of saying welcome. You are new in town, right?”
A pause. Then, the woman hummed. “Something like that.” The woman smiled, before ordering a whiskey from Vision.
Something about the way she said it made Agatha pause. Her voice was smooth, self-assured—like someone who knew exactly what kind of effect she had on people.
But more than that…
There was something familiar about it.
Like a song Agatha had heard before but couldn’t quite place.
Vision set the drinks down in front of them before disappearing to help someone else.
Agatha picked up her wine, swirling it slightly before glancing over again. The woman still hadn’t fully turned toward her, but she wasn’t ignoring her either.
Agatha smirked, taking a slow sip. “Westview doesn’t get many visitors. What brings you here?”
This time, the woman did turn her head. She rested an elbow on the bar, whiskey glass dangling from her fingers as she studied Agatha. Then, just barely, she quirked an eyebrow.
Agatha felt a small thrill at that.
“Business,” the woman finally said.
Agatha lifted a brow. “Mysterious.”
The woman chuckled, shaking her head slightly as she took a sip of whiskey.
Agatha smirked. “You don’t look like the business type.”
That made her laugh again—this time, just a little louder.
Agatha wasn’t sure why she liked the sound of it so much.
“And what type do I look like?” the woman asked, tilting her head slightly.
Agatha let her eyes drag over her again, slower this time. “Trouble.”
The woman huffed out a quiet laugh, bringing her whiskey back to her lips.
Agatha leaned in slightly. “But I don’t mind a little trouble.”
This time, the woman didn’t laugh. She just quirked that damn eyebrow again, something amused dancing in her eyes.
And for some reason, it was really starting to bug Agatha.
Not because she wasn’t responding. No, she was—just not the way Agatha expected. It wasn’t shyness, or even disinterest.
It was something else.
Like she was waiting for something.
Agatha tilted her head slightly. “What?”
The woman smirked against the rim of her glass, shaking her head before taking another sip.
“Nothing,” she said.
Agatha narrowed her eyes, suddenly feeling like she’d missed something important.
Agatha let the silence hang between them for a moment, still feeling like she was missing something. But she shook it off, taking another sip of wine before tilting her head again.
“So, what kind of business brings you to our little town?”
The woman hummed, idly running a finger along the rim of her glass. “Work. I’m here for a wedding this weekend.”
Agatha’s brows lifted slightly. “No kidding. I’m in a wedding this weekend.”
That damn eyebrow quirked again. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Agatha said, shifting to face her a little more. “Bridesmaid to my dear friend Jen.” The words dear friend were clearly sarcastic, but fond underneath.
The woman exhaled a quiet chuckle, nodding. “Small world.”
Agatha smirked. “That it is. So, what are you? A wedding planner? Bartender? One of those people who follows the couple around and makes them cry with a video montage of their childhood?”
At that, the woman finally turned to face her fully. “Florist.”
Agatha blinked, caught slightly off guard. She wasn’t sure what she had been expecting, but it definitely wasn’t that.
“Huh,” she said, eyeing her again, taking in the tattoos, the confident way she carried herself. “You don’t look like the florist type either.”
The woman smirked against the rim of her glass, taking another sip of whiskey. “And what type do I look like?”
Agatha leaned in slightly, smirking. “I already told you. Trouble.”
The woman chuckled, shaking her head slightly.
Agatha rested an elbow on the bar. “So, you’re the one in charge of making everything tastefully elegant and timeless, or whatever it is Jen’s fiancée keeps saying.”
That made the woman grin. “Not a fan?”
Agatha huffed. “Jen’s my friend. Ralph is… Ralph.”
The woman quirked an eyebrow again, clearly waiting for more. But this time, Agatha chose to bite her tongue.
The woman let out a small laugh. “Sounds like it’s going to be an interesting weekend.”
Agatha snorted. “You have no idea.”
She didn’t notice the way the woman was watching her, the way amusement danced in her eyes, like she knew exactly how interesting the weekend was about to get.
Rio hummed, tapping her fingers against her glass. “Oh, I think I do. Brides bring out the worst in people.”
Agatha huffed out a laugh, swirling the wine in her glass. “It’s not just Jen, though. It’s Ralph.”
Rio tilted her head, feigning curiosity.
Agatha hesitated, then exhaled. “Let’s just say that if Jen wasn’t one of my best friends, I would’ve made some excuse to get out of this whole thing.”
Rio chuckled, eyes flicking over Agatha’s face like she was cataloging every little reaction. “And yet, here you are. Committed and all.”
Agatha rolled her eyes, setting her glass down with a clink. “Unfortunately.”
Before Rio could respond, a familiar voice cut in from behind them.
“Oh, you won’t believe what my sister said to me on the phone the other night—”
Agatha barely had time to process before Jen dropped her purse on the bar top beside her. But the moment the stranger turned her head—smirk firmly in place—Jen froze.
“Rio?”