Updated Apr 13, 2026 • ~5 min read
Chapter 28: The Date
Oliver
Oliver has been planning this date for three weeks—ever since Sage was fully recovered and the shop was reopened and they both had enough breathing room to think about something other than survival—and he’s determined to make it perfect despite Sage’s protestations that she doesn’t need fancy.
“Where are we going?” Sage asks for the third time as Oliver helps her into his car.
“It’s a surprise,” Oliver says, grinning.
“I hate surprises,” Sage mutters, but through the bond Oliver can feel that she’s pleased, excited even, though she’d never admit it out loud.
She’s wearing a dress—actual dress, dark green that matches her eyes, elegant without being fussy—and Oliver told her she looked beautiful when she emerged from the bedroom, and she threatened to hex him, and he grinned because that’s their dynamic and he loves it.
The restaurant is in Boston, upscale without being pretentious, the kind of place that does excellent food without making you feel like you need three forks to navigate the meal.
“This is nice,” Sage admits when they’re seated, looking around the candlelit space. “You didn’t have to—”
“I wanted to,” Oliver interrupts. “Sage, you deserve nice things. Nice dates, nice restaurants, nice experiences. Let me give you that.”
Through the bond, he feels her discomfort with being treated as precious warring with her pleasure at being prioritized, and Oliver waits patiently while she processes.
“Okay,” Sage finally agrees. “But if you make a big deal about me trying to pay—”
“Your money’s no good here,” Oliver says cheerfully. “I’m paying. It’s our first official date. Let me be traditional.”
“Nothing about us is traditional,” Sage points out.
“Then let me be occasionally traditional,” Oliver amends.
They order food—Sage getting something with more vegetables than Oliver thinks necessary, Oliver getting pasta that makes Sage roll her eyes—and settle into conversation that flows easily despite the fancy setting.
“Rowan asked me today if we’re getting married,” Sage says, and Oliver chokes on his water.
“What did you tell her?” he asks when he can breathe again.
“That it’s been six weeks,” Sage says. “And that marriage is a huge commitment.”
“But?” Oliver prompts, because he can feel through the bond that there’s more.
“But… I’m not opposed to the idea,” Sage admits. “Eventually. Maybe. If you wanted.”
Oliver feels warmth bloom in his chest because Sage Thornwood just admitted she could see herself marrying him, and that’s more commitment than she’s probably made to anyone in years.
“I want,” Oliver confirms. “Eventually. When we’re both ready. There’s no rush.”
“Good,” Sage says, visibly relieved. “Because I’m still getting used to cohabitation. Marriage feels like several steps beyond that.”
“Several steps we’ll take when we’re ready,” Oliver agrees.
Their food arrives, and they eat while talking about lighter things—shop business, Rowan’s latest magical mishap, Daniel’s reaction to Oliver’s relationship (supportive with a side of ‘I told you so’)—and Oliver watches Sage slowly relax into the date, into being treated well, into accepting that she deserves this.
“You’re beautiful,” Oliver says at one point, unable to help himself.
“I’m wearing a dress under duress,” Sage retorts, but she’s smiling.
“Beautifully under duress,” Oliver amends.
“You’re impossible,” Sage says.
“Optimistic,” Oliver corrects. “There’s a difference.”
After dinner, they walk through Boston Common, the city lights reflecting off the pond, and Sage takes Oliver’s hand without prompting, which feels like progress.
“Thank you,” Sage says quietly. “For this. For planning something nice. For making me feel valued.”
“You are valued,” Oliver says, squeezing her hand. “Sage, you’re the most important person in my life. I’m going to keep showing you that until you believe it.”
“I’m starting to believe it,” Sage admits, and through the bond Oliver feels the truth of it—she’s learning to accept love, to let herself be cherished, to trust that he’s not going to leave.
“Good,” Oliver says.
They end up back at the car eventually, and Oliver drives them home while Sage dozes in the passenger seat, comfortable enough to sleep, trusting him to get them back safely.
When they arrive at Thornwood Occult, Sage wakes up and looks at him with soft eyes.
“Best first date I’ve ever had,” she says.
“Better than awkward coffee dates with magical politics discussions?” Oliver asks, referencing one of Sage’s Morgan stories.
“So much better,” Sage confirms, leaning across the console to kiss him. “Thank you, Oliver. For all of it.”
“Anytime,” Oliver promises. “I’m planning to take you on many more dates. Get used to it.”
“I think I can live with that,” Sage says, and through the bond Oliver feels her contentment, her love, her growing certainty that this is going to work.
They go upstairs together, and when Sage changes out of the dress she complained about wearing, Oliver catches her looking at herself in the mirror with an expression that’s almost wondering.
“What?” he asks.
“I look happy,” Sage says, like she’s surprised by it. “I didn’t think… after everything, I didn’t think I’d ever look happy again.”
Oliver moves to stand behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist, and they look at their reflection together—witch and curse-breaker, grumpy and sunshine, perfectly complementary.
“You deserve to be happy,” Oliver says.
“We deserve to be happy,” Sage corrects, and through the bond Oliver feels that she believes it.
They fall asleep that night wrapped around each other, and Oliver dreams of futures full of dates and domesticity and love, and when he wakes up, Sage is still there, still choosing him, still learning to be happy.
It’s everything Oliver wanted and more than he expected.
And they’re just getting started.
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