Page 85 of Hexed & Hazy

“Prove me wrong, then.” There’s a twinkle in her eye, and after so long of seeing Mom sick and exhausted, I can’t be mad. Even when she’s roasting me. If this makes her happy, so be it.

I’m glad the people in my life care about Rowan as much as I do—but of course they do. She’s smart, funny, and caring. What’s not to like?

I roll my eyes and approach her, giving her a big hug. “Laurel is going to be chilling here with you for the weekend, all right?”

“All right, all right. I don’t need the reminders.”

“Nerissa might come too.”

“Good. I like her.”

“Good.” I drag my suitcase to the front door. “Call me if you need anything. I’ll answer.”

“I know you will.”

I hate leaving my mom alone for this long. It’s only a few days, but I would rather be with her just in case something happens. For all I know, I’m still hexed, and there’s no saying it won’t impact the people I love outside of my romantic life—because really, this would be just my luck.

But Rowan needs this. I need this. And more than anything, I trust Laurel and Nerissa to take good care of my mom.

We’ll be back soon.

“This place is beautiful.” Rowan stops to stare at a marble statue outside the spa.

I picked it for her. Peaceful. Overpriced—I’ll be maxing my credit card on the stay—and owned by glamour witches who claim to know a thing or two about relaxation. That’s what Rowan needs. It isn’t about a date as much as getting her off her phone for the weekend, getting her a good massage and facial…

And whatever else couples do at these things. Because we’re a couple now. I’m part of a couple now. And it’s cool, but it’s terrifying.

Especially with the hex still looming over my head. I want to ask Rowan to check if it’s still there, to do another spell, but every time I bring it up, she turns me down. The hex is broken, she says. We wouldn’t be together otherwise.

It makes sense in theory, but in practice… there are so many small things that have happened. Things that don’t add up.

I roll my suitcase and carry her duffel bag over my shoulder, approaching the front desk. There’s a plus-size witch with pastel pink hair and bright red eyes—contacts, magic, or some kind of demonic being? I can’t tell.

“Good evening,” she chirps, all energy and bubbles. “Do you have a reservation?”

“Uh, yeah, I made one online.” I smile back at her. “Bautista. I got the goddess suite.”

“The goddess… the goddess…” She frowns, clicking away on her computer. “I’m sorry. We tried to call you several times.”

My smile drops.

“Your reservation wasn’t able to go through. There was a problem with your card.”

Of course. My damn card.

“I didn’t receive a call about that.” I look at Rowan from the corner of my eye, and her expression is unmoving.

Nothing affects her, does it?

“Is this your phone number?” She turns the screen so I can see it.

“No. That’s my old number.” I plaster my smile right back on and lean in. “Is the suite still available? I have another card we can try.”

Her smile becomes a grimace. “I’m afraid we’re fully booked for the weekend, but if you’d like…”

The blood rushes to my ears, and I hardly hear the answer she gives. I’m polite as we detangle from the situation and drag our feet back to the car.

This is it. It’s proof that I’m still hexed, and Rowan doesn’t want to be with me. She told me to take care of this. She trusted me to, and I let her down.