Willow held up her hands in surrender, but her smile didn’t budge. “I’m just saying. I’ve got a spell for conception, too…and it makes sexreallyfun.”
June gave Willow a look that was part warning, part amusement—but her hand drifted, almost unconsciously, to rest on the soft curve of her belly. Her thumb rubbed lightly over her t-shirt as her smile turned private.
“I think that spell already worked,” she said, voice calm and full of something warm and secret.
Willow gasped. Delilah choked on a tortilla chip. Even Flora blinked and looked up from where she was setting a bundle of herbs on the coffee table.
“Wait—what?” I said, gaping.
June just shrugged, eyes glittering. “I haven’t told Silas yet. Don’t go running your mouths. But yeah…pretty sure I’m knocked up.”
There was a moment of stunned silence before Delilah whooped and launched herself off the couch, hugging June so hard she nearly knocked them both over.
“Holy shit,” Delilah said, breathless. “Does this mean I get to be the drunk godmother?”
“No,” June said dryly, “but you can be the one to teach them how to play poker and lie to cops.”
“Reverend June,” Willow said, reaching over to lightly smack June on the arm. “What would God say?”
“Pretty sure She would say sex and love areholyand that we should try to focus on Noelle tonight,” June said. “Given that she’s the one getting married.”
Flora made a small approving noise, scooping a pinch of something from one of her little glass jars and sprinkling it into a bowl. “Hear, hear,” she said. “Let’s not jinx the bride before she even walks down the aisle.”
I lifted my hands, grinning. “Honestly, I’m just here for the vibes. If this spell gives me half the marriage either of you have, I’ll consider it a win.”
“Oh honey,” Delilah said, flopping back onto the couch with dramatic flair. “You’re gonna have the best one. You and Beau are disgusting. I saw you two making out behind the library yesterday like teenagers.”
“That was not—” I started, then caught June’s look and sighed. “Okay, fine. Maybe it was a littlelike that.”
Willow giggled and reached for the ribbon-tied bundle, setting it in the center of the little makeshift altar she’d arranged with candle stubs, flower petals, and a massive chunk of rose quartz. “Okay, bride-to-be. Put your hands out.”
I did, palms up, feeling oddly shy all of a sudden.
Flora handed me a sprig of rosemary. “For protection.”
Willow laid a little vial of salt in my left hand. “For grounding.”
Delilah, of course, plunked a lighter in my right palm. “For when shit inevitably gets weird.”
And June leaned in last, brushing a kiss against my temple. “And this,” she whispered, “for grace. Because love that lasts takes more of that than anyone tells you.”
I blinked hard, eyes suddenly hot. “Shit,” I said. “I wasn’t planning on crying during the fake spell.”
Flora stepped back and lit another candle. “Too bad. This is Willow Grove. The spells work whether you believe in them or not.”
The room quieted. Not in a heavy way—more like the hush that falls before a thunderstorm, or the pause between verses of a hymn. The kind of quiet that made you want to whisper, just in case the air was listening.
June knelt beside me and held out her hand. I gave her the sprig of rosemary, and she tucked it into the flame of the candle Flora had just lit. The smell shifted immediately—woodsy and clean, like fresh cut pine.
“Say something,” she told me. “One word you want to carry with you.”
I swallowed. “Trust.”
Delilah gave a little mmm of approval, like I’d just ordered something particularly good off a menu.
Next, Willow took the vial of salt, uncorked it, and let a few crystals fall onto the wax-stained plate in the center. “Your turn,” she said.
“Joy,” I said, surprised by how fast it came out.
