I open my mouth to argue, then close it again. Because she’s not wrong. The more I think about last night, the more I remember. And what I remember doesn’t feel like hypnosis. It feels like ... free will.
Which is impossible. Right?
Ella calls from my kitchen, “Where do you keep your cocoa? I’m making hot chocolate.”
“Please don’t,” several of us reply.
But it’s too late. Ella is many wonderful things, but a good cook or beverage preparer is not one of them.
Five minutes later, we’re all gathered on my comfy, overstuffed couch with mugs of what can only generously be called cocoa. It’s tepid water filled with lumps of powder and delusions of grandeur. But we drink it anyway because Ella made it with love.
My house is still decorated for Christmas—I never take anything down until Epiphany—so twinkling lights, garland, and the general sense that hope might actually exist in the world surround us. Which feels oddly appropriate given my current situation.
Bree rubs her hands together with the determination of someone who’s not leaving until she gets answers. “Tell us everything.”
“There’s nothing to tell. We were hypnotized and accidentally got married. End of story. Might I remind you, you were there and all of you are responsible for volunteering me.”
Gracie sighs dreamily. “That’s not the end. That’s just the beginning.”
“The beginning of what? A really expensive legal mess?”
“The beginning of your love story,” Jess says as if it’s obvious.
I nearly choke on Ella’s questionable cocoa. “Love story? I don’t even know the guy!”
“But you will,” Whit says pragmatically.
Emerson, whom I hadn’t even noticed was here, says, “You left out a very important part.”
I wrinkle my nose in question.
“Auld, lang, swoon! You didn’t tell them that earlier last night, you saw each other from across the room. Heart eyes were exchanged. A connection was made. I could practically see the little love arrows piercing both of you as a pair of invisiblemagnets drew you together. Not even a room full of people could keep you apart. And let’s not forget that youdanced.” She emphasizes the last part and then lets out a long and dream-like sigh.
Everyone leans in, not privy to this info.
“Well, yeah. But it was brief. Casual. Dancing with someone for one song isn’t grounds for marriage.”
Dismissing me, Bree adds, “The whole town is buzzing about this. The video is everywhere. People are calling it the most romantic thing they’ve ever seen.”
Leave it to Mrs. Gormely and the rest of the town gossips to spread the word.
“Mrs. Rice told Heidi to tell me how happy she was for you,” Leah adds.
Jess grins. “Grandma Dolly commented that this is exactly the kind of excitement Cobbiton needs.” And by Cobbiton, the nosy nelly means my non-existent love life.
“Margo wants to know if you’re planning a reception,” Ella chimes in.
“The Cobbiton Activities Commission is already talking about decorating Main Street.”
“Isn’t Juniper the head of the CAC?”
“Yes, and she already has Mayor Nishimura’s permission.”
I sink deeper into my couch cushions and flop the back of my hand dramatically over my face. “I haven’t even been married for twenty-four hours. This is already a disaster.”
“This is good for business,” Bree corrects.
I shoot to a seated position. “How so?”
