ONE
Deva
It had been a long night,not that I minded. Life as a witch had always been interesting, which was just the way I liked it. But since Emma had come back to town, it was… both more exciting and dangerous all at once. Truthfully, there was a time when I wouldn’t have appreciated more complications in my life, but since my marriage ended and my daughters moved away, it was nice to have something outside of the cafe.
A reason to get up beyond work.
There was just something inside of me lately that said work and friends weren’t enough any longer. I might have the best friends in the world, but they didn’t fill that strange void in my chest that had been missing since my children moved away. And after a long day filled with near-death experiences, and seeing that Emma and Daniel seemed to have found a second chance at love, I felt myself yearning for the same thing.
But what do I do with this feeling?
Carol had long since gone to bed after our crew took out Joel and all managed to get awaymostlyunhurt. So, for once since I moved in with my best friend, I had a little bit of time to myself. Time to think about what I wanted for the rest of my life. I know it wasnotgetting back with Harry, my love for him had died long ago. I also knew it was not a life alone though. As much as I said my cafe was my love, it couldn’t love me back.
No, I needed a person, not a thing.
Eyeing the hallway that led to our bedrooms, I double checked that there were no signs of Carol, then opened the drawer of the table next to the couch and fished around until I found the hidden bag. Inside, was one small piece of pink fudge. A recipe I’d only made once and never planned to make again.
A love spell.
But not exactly.
I made it on my first Valentine’s Day after leaving Harry. It was tied to the day with powerful magic. Essentially, it was less a love spell and more a spell that would open me up to love, if I was ready, and ensured that whatever was meant to happen would happen before the next Valentine’s Day.
Power hummed through the spell, calling to me, but my stomach did a little flip. I knew the spell wouldn’t bring me someone who would hurt me. I knew the spell wouldn’t bring me another person like Harry, but there were still parts of me that remembered how lonely I was in my marriage, even more lonely than I was well… well, when I left him and was actually alone. I don’t exactly remember when I finally had enough of my loveless marriage, when I finally said that I needed more.
Which is strange. I should remember something that important, shouldn’t I?
I should. My gut said I should. That knowing the catalyst might be the thing to finally make me eat this fudge. The thing to finally open myself up to this spell.
Going to the kitchen, I went and mixed up a little cup of tea, weaving into it a familiar spell. A spell to awaken my memories. When I was done, chamomile and my grandmother’s perfume wafted from the hot cup, and I felt tears blur my eyes. My grandmother was a special lady. But that was not what tonight was about. I closed my eyes, whispered the words I needed to say, then chugged the full mug, feeling the liquid burn its way down my throat.
My head spun a bit as I went back to the couch and collapsed onto it, and then, before I knew it, memories pulled me under.
I straightenedthe chalkboard proudly displaying our house specials. Since it was so close to the New Year, I’d decided to go with Lucky Black-Eyed Peas as the number one special. It might have been a little bit of an unconventional choice, but I knew the dish was good, and that the magic weaved into it would do the trick. I’d made it so anyone who ordered the beans with my special blend of herbs and spices would literally find themselves having good luck for as long as the food was in the person’s system.
And who couldn’t use a little good luck?I release a slow breath.I certainly could, especially today.
Our other specials included Sparkling Smoked Salmon, which would make the diner happy, and Accomplished Avocado Toast, which would help with success. Humans wouldn’t know that there was magic weaved into the dishes, but it didn’t change the fact that the magic would work on them. My ability to make people feel through my food was one of the main reasons all my closest friends had thought this was the perfect business for me, along with the fact that cooking was easily one of my favorite things to do in the world.
But it still doesn’t mean this business will be successful.I bite my lip, staring at the board, wondering if my writing was a little too crooked. I needed everything to be perfect, even if perfection was impossible.
At least the other witches will be sure to come.
The local witches knew how to order exactly what they wanted too, which made this whole thing a lot easier. Everyone on my staff was witch-aware, and my sous chef, Vic, knew most of my recipes. He was a competent warlock who I’d carefully selected. The kid was young, barely older than my oldest daughter, but he’d been trained well and came from a long line of warlocks. He didn’t know all my tricks, of course. But enough to keep the kitchen fired up when I couldn’t be here.
I’ve done everything I need to in order to ensure I’m successful, so why am I still so nervous?
“Deva,” Vic said, a smile in his voice. “It’s time.”
I glanced back at him, standing in the kitchen doorway. The warlock looked even younger somehow in his white uniform with the logo for my cafe on the pocket, and the white apron over his black pants. But he also had that little sparkle of excitement in his eyes, the same one I got when I was cooking. I knew that even though he was working hard to look like a professional, he was practically bouncing on his heels inside.
I wish I felt that way today.
“Is Harry here?” I try not to let the hopefulness inside me come out in the question, but it does.
My husband was supposed to be here for the grand opening. He’d promised. Usually, his promises meant nothing. He’d get caught up in a game, or with housework, and I’d end up disappointed. Years ago I’d stopped being disappointed, mostly, I just told myself that if he did end up coming to something that was important to me, I’d be happy.
But something about finally achieving a dream I’ve had since I was a kid made it really important to me that my husband be here. I’d told him I wanted him here over and over again until he’d gotten annoyed with me. To get me off his back, he’d finally given me his word that he would be here, rain or shine, and early.
