Calladia couldn’t imagine what that kind of intimacy felt like. She hadn’t dated seriously since Sam, and it had never been like that. No carefree, giddy joy, no mutual support, only an ever-escalating sense of unworthiness. The longer she’d spent with Sam, the smaller she’d felt, her life shaping itself around his judgments. It was enough to make a witch reject the very idea of love, if only there weren’t two such compelling examples of the phenomenon sitting across the table.
