“Then he’s a fool.” Kayla shoves a hand through her purple hair.
He’s not, though. Luke’s the smartest person I know.
“You need a drink.” Autumn pats my shoulder. “Let’s get this decorating done, then take you back to yours and get you shitfaced.”
“I’m in,” Violetta says, Jasmine nodding in agreement.
“Me too.” Kayla strips off her puffy winter coat, exposing today’s T-shirt:Don’t talk to me unless you’re willing to pay chocolate tax.
I sit up straight, swipe at my cheeks, and list several things to do.
Hannah takes control like the leader she is and starts delegating tasks, and in no time at all, the decorations are out of storage and being strung up everywhere. I pull her aside. “I’ve got one last idea, but it’s going to take Severin’s help.”
“Tell me.”
When I do, she makes it happen, and in less than an hour, I’m back in my car with Princess Buttercup, Hannah driving us to my house as the others follow.
Autumn enters my kitchen with two huge bottles of wine, one red, one white.
“Where did you get those?”
“I stopped by Your Bubbly Charm and grabbed them.”
“Since when do you sell alcohol?” I ask. Autumn’s shop carries her artisanal soaps in the front and fae-bespelled crystals and candles behind the counter.
“I don’t.” The redhead shrugs. “But we had bottles left over from the store’s grand opening, and what better use than this?”
Violetta finds a jumbo package of pizza rolls in my freezer and pops them into the oven.
Autumn pours drinks.
Kayla brings chips from her car, explaining before anyone can ask, “Gamersalwayshave snacks.”
Jasmine digs an emergency pack of Oreos out of the pantry, and spreads them across a plate.
Normally, I’d have homemade goodies to offer everyone. It really says something that I was too upset to stress bake today.
While everyone’s busy, Hannah chivvies me into my cat pajama onesie, the one I love best because of its calico pattern.
“You look like me!” Princess Buttercup prances around my legs, her tail held high like a flag of triumph. “I approve.”
When the pizza rolls are done, the Witch Bitches scatter across my living room, eating and drinking and talking and keeping me company.
Shoring up my silly squishy heart.
The best friends any witch could want.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Skye
Valentine’s Day dawns bright and sunny and beautiful. Nature didnotget the memo to deliver the blizzard of the century, shutting down the roads and canceling the dance. Though if it had, Severin might have gotten Luke to flame the roads clean. Who needs salt trucks and snowplows when you have a dragon?
Thank god Hannah made me drink two glasses of water and take aspirin before going to bed. It also helps that I didn’t make it all the way to shitfaced, stopping somewhere in the vicinity of pleasantly tipsy and ready-to-karaoke-power-ballads-with-my-gal-pals. Which for me means two glasses of wine. I’m a total lightweight.
I burrow into my blanket cocoon on the couch and flip through the channels, looking for the most outrageous reality TV shows I can find, but the day drags by. I considerdistracting myself by openingDance of Desireand finally reading the book I lived half of. It would be nice to see what happens at the dance competition. Do they finally do the lift? I bet they finally do the lift—it’s a great metaphor for their relationship finally taking flight and all that jazz.
Too bad mine’s dead on the ground.
