As the largest, Finn’s got a bit of an advantage, jumping up to place his paws on thighs to demand ear scratches, cackling his fox laugh at all of the attention. Refusing to be outdone, Babybelle bounces across the floor, her little hooves tapping out a cute beat that draws almost as much attention as her bleats. And then there’s Princess Buttercup, who regally sashays around everyone’s legs, purring and looking up with her eyes made big and pleading in a way that’s impossible to resist.
My cat repeats a constant litany of: “You love me best! You know you do! Just feel how soft my beautiful long fur is.Feel it!”
Hannah, able to understand all three of the familiars, stands with a knuckle pressed into her mouth, her shoulders shaking.
“What is it?” Autumn asks.
“It’s the combination of the three,” Hannah wheezes, waving a hand at them. “Finn’s list of reasons why foxes are superior; Babybelle’s ‘Me! Me! Me!’; and Princess Buttercup demanding she’s the most beautiful and soft to pet.”
A smile stretches my cheeks. “They’re each so verythem.”
“But they all want the same thing,” Autumn says.
To be loved. To be adored.
I sigh. Who doesn’t?
By the time I fetch the cupcakes from the back, Autumn’s already got several cocktails poured. Since next weekend will be taken over by the dance and the holiday, we’re doing Galentine’s tonight, and we brought special cupcakes and cocktails.
“I made cinnamon hearts cupcakes,” I say.
“And I’ve made everyone cinnamon crunch cocktails,” Autumn says. “Come and tell me how you want ’em.” She has two types of cereal-flavored milk, cow and oat, as well as a virgin-cocktail recipe for those who don’t drink.
Things move quickly after that, and soon we’re all squished together on the comfy sofas, nibbling and sipping and chatting.
The familiars continue to circle, begging for treats, even though there aren’t any crunch berries topping the cupcakesthis time. Autumn pulls out a baggie full of butternut goat cookies. Babybelle takes hers happily, and Finn’s willing to eat one as well, but Princess Buttercup takes one sniff and says, “You callthata treat? Where’s the chicken?”
I share a grin with Autumn when my cat eats the treat, anyway. Then Princess Buttercup leaps onto Kayla’s lap, still determined to turn the purple-haired witch into a cat lover using forced proximity.
“I call this meeting of the Witch Bitch Spicy Book Club to order,” Hannah says. “Does anyone have any new witchy business?”
“I do! And I don’t just mean me and the book thing. I have something new.” I tell them all about the aunts and how they can see magic. “They thought Luke was a demon.”
“Valid.” Kayla points at me. “I’ve designed video games where the demons look a lot like him.”
“Does that mean your aunts are witches?” Autumn asks.
“I don’t know.” I shrug and take a sip of cinnamony goodness. “They haven’t shown any powers yet.”
“Neither have most of us,” Kayla mutters, and several women nod.
“Does anyone else have any family members who’ve made it clear they can see magic?”
“Maybe?” Violetta gives a one-shouldered shrug when we all look at her. “I feel like my brother might be able to see the fae as they truly are. He certainly startles every time the gnomes front flip down the sidewalk.”
“It’s a hard no for me,” Hannah says. “Dad has no imagination, and Mom would totally have grilled Severin on how fae sex is different from human sex if she knew what hewas.”
We all laugh. Hannah’s mom spends most of her time as a poised politician’s wife, so when she finally lets loose around friends and family, she infamously has zero filter.
“I think my mom might have the sight,” Jasmine says. “But I don’t know how to ask her.”
“When I get the chance, I’ll do more research,” I promise. “Luke’s got far more books about witches than we do.” Although maybe I should sayifI get the chance. Whether we break the spell or not, we’re coming up on the end of the romance book, and Luke might never want to see me again once it’s done, let alone let me back into his library.
“None of that.” Kayla’s finger pokes my knee. “This is Galentine’s. No moping over guys allowed.”
“How’d you know I was thinking about Luke?”
“Sorry to break it to you, my friend, but you’re an open book.”
