A Spell Too Sweet [ONC2025]

With Ambrose guaranteed to keep out of her hair, Laura had spent a quiet evening and an even quieter morning trying out recipes.

She tried making the liquor chocolates again—without the potion, of course—but they looked too plain to have even half a chance at the grand prize. Her sugar sculptures were always eye-catching, but they didn't have a complex enough taste. And everything else she tried lacked in both looks and flavor.

Even with her unwelcome suitor gone, she wasn't making any progress. And the worst part was that, in his absence, she still managed to see traces of him all around. Whenever she tested one of her works in progress, it was his voice commenting on ways to improve the taste or the texture, and when she did manage to get something right, it was him again, complimenting her in her mind.

It felt like an invisible version of him was still following her around, and when she tried to look for the flesh and blood Ambrose, it only reminded her of what she had done to him.

Early in the day, she managed to catch a peek at him when he first reached the bakery. He had turned, and seeing her, he once again clutched at his chest and fumbled with his keys while trying to unlock the door and slip inside. Then he was out of sight for the better part of the morning. When their eyes met again hours later, when they were both serving behind the counters of their respective businesses, it happened again. His casual smile dropped off his face, and he looked close to fainting.

When Laura next checked, there was someone else serving at the till. She didn't see him again for the rest of the day, no matter how many times she checked through the windows, and judging by the bakery's markedly diminished number of female customers, he had probably retreated to the back. He had always enjoyed baking more than dealing with people, even though he was such a natural at it.

Not seeing him at all left her with an empty space in her chest, like the hunger in her stomach had migrated to her heart and settled in there. She knew it was only the power of habit, having had him right there in front of her eyes for the two years she had kept shop by herself, but telling herself that did nothing to fill that emptiness.

It was still there after closing hours, dulling her senses and hindering her work. She couldn't make a proper recipe when everything she sampled tasted like ash, so she had to give up early and leave for home. But the uneasy feeling followed her there, too. It kept her awake until the small hours, and the little sleep she did get was weighed down with nightmares.

In the morning, her eyes were swollen, and her head was swimming with contradicting thoughts. She couldn't tell whether it was guilt or something else making her hurt so much for Ambrose, and she truly didn't want to think about it. There were more urgent things she needed to take care of. Only, her mind refused to concentrate on anything but him and the trouble she'd put him through.

"I think we need to talk," her uncle said in place of a greeting when she finally dragged herself to the breakfast table.

He wasn't wearing his glasses, and the squinting made his eyes look even more intense than usual. There were very few reasons for him to ever forgo his spectacles, and the likeliest was that whatever he wanted to talk about was serious. He was too good at telling when Laura was lying, and he knew she was likely to do it this time.

And she did consider it, but only for the briefest of moments. Hiding things had only managed to get her into even deeper trouble.

"I think we do, too," she said on a sigh. "I cursed Ambrose."

Her uncle sputtered. Lucky thing, he wasn't drinking his tea just then. "Well," he said after composing himself, "I was going to give you a talk about fixing your sleeping habits, but I think that can wait. How exactly did you curse the boy?"