Magical Midlife Madness (Leveling Up #1)(61)

Austin put down the bottle, then hesitated. “I’m an ass. Sorry, I forgot this was supposed to be a tasting. Do you still… Um… Mr. Tom can probably—”

“It’s fine. Just pour it. You’ve already put your spit in my mouth.”

Shadows chiseled out his striking features, a smile tickling his lips. He nodded and poured me a glass.

“Look, Jess, there’s something I haven’t told you.” He nearly drank from the bottle again, but I moved his empty glass closer. “It’s cooler from the bottle,” he said.

“No, it is not.”

“Says the square.” He filled his glass. “The Ivy House magic is like a shot of youth, I’ve heard. Earl would be restored to his prime. Niamh, Edgar. They’d both get a taste from the fountain of youth. As would you.”

I stilled in the moment, feeling my mildly aching back, an off-and-on present since I’d had Jimmy. My stiffening knees from sitting on the ground. Thinking of my age spots, light now but coming in strong, my sun damage, my wrinkles. Thinking of all the things that made me old. All the things that millions of dollars of advertisements a year told me I needed to fix.

Right now, these marks of age were slight, but they were building in potency.

Tears came to my eyes. Then sobs bubbled up out of nowhere.

Austin pulled me close. “Look, you need to do what’s best for you,” he said softly. “We’ll work it out. We’ll find a solution.”

I shook my head, feeling stupid. Hating that I felt stupid.

Because the truth was, I didn’t want the solution to midlife to be young again. I wanted to be accepted for being my age. I wanted it to be okay for a woman to have wrinkles. Graying hair. A few sagging areas due to child birth and the passing of years.

As a woman excited to start this new chapter, I wanted to feel…normal. Accepted.

But the truth was, I didn’t feel accepted. I didn’t feel acknowledged for my service in raising the next generation, for my active role in the community, or even for being human sometimes. I felt utterly ignored. I felt invisible or, worse, frowned upon. Most of the time, when I looked in the mirror, I saw only my flaws. I saw all the things that advertisements and social media said was wrong with me.

I wanted to focus on what was right about this version of myself, like the way I’d learned to take life a little slower and enjoy each moment. Like my appreciation for people’s differences, and for beauty found in unlikely places. For my friendships, new and old. I wanted it to be okay that I wasn’t worried about beauty anymore, or worried about looking young. I just wanted to look like me, however me looked in any given year.

I sighed, wishing Diana were here. I wanted to complain to a girlfriend. But all I had was Austin. So, in a gush I’d totally regret later, I unloaded on him. I told him exactly what I was feeling.

“Heard,” he whispered when I was done, rubbing my back. “I feel age, too, if that helps any. Dicks might get to be distinguished when they’re older, but shifters become vulnerable. Many magical types are the same way. Edgar was completely pushed out of his clan for being too old. He wasn’t wanted anymore. If I get slower, weaker, less agile, then my position is compromised. Many of us do actually know how you feel, but for me it’s less about looks and more about ability.”

“Isn’t that always the case, though? I mean, I know what you’re saying, but people tend to judge women on looks even if we’re successful. We’re not known for what we’re good at, we’re known for how we look. What we wear.”

“I suppose that is true, yes.” He fell silent for a moment. “I’m not trying to one-up you, but when you get older, you are ignored. When I get older, I could be killed.”

“You’re talking about a job that you can retire from. That you can walk away from. I’m talking about my life.”

He brushed the hair from my face and gently tucked it behind my ear. His breath dusted my eyelashes. “True again,” he murmured, his gaze taking me in. “But at least you’re not cracked like your cape-wearing butler.”

I spat out a laugh as Mr. Tom cleared his throat somewhere behind us.

“Sorry,” I said, running my fingers across his cheek to get any errant spray. “Oh my God, I’m sorry. I didn’t see that one coming.”

“Now you know how it feels.” His soft lips pulled into a smile underneath my touch. He reached up and slowly took my hand away before placing it in my lap and giving me a little space. “You’re not invisible, though. I want you to know that. Here, in this town, you are not invisible. I see you. I see you for what you are, and what you’re trying to be. I admire you for both. Download that magic, if you want. Get young again. We can figure out the town.”

“I don’t want youth to be the solution for something I don’t think is a problem.”

“Then don’t grab that magic and own your life choices. Raise your voice until you are heard. Look however you want, be whoever you want, and demand people pay attention to you. Stop taking what you’re given, and demand the space in life you want.”

I lowered my head, silently crying. He was right on so many levels. I needed to hear this. Over and over, spoken with the assurance and conviction that came so naturally to him. Because I wanted to do it, I just needed a little courage. I needed to feel like I wasn’t alone when I stood up for myself.