My throat thickens. “She just wanted the best for me. She thought it was important to be practical and rational.”
“Maybe… you’ll fit in better with your father’s family,” Hannah says. “Maybe they’ll want to hear about the leprechauns.”
I blink quickly as moisture gathers in my eyes. “It’s ridiculous,” I whisper.
Hannah moves to sit beside me and slides her arm around my shoulders, squeezing. “Yeah. It kind of is.”
Kesha sighs. “Whatever you want to do, we’re here for you. We’ve got your back. Even if your family tries to turn you into a potato.”
I choke on a laugh and wipe my eyes with my fingertips. “Thank you. I love you.”
9
Romy
Bad decisions make for great adventures.
That was not my mother’s favorite saying.
It’s not my favorite saying either, but Hannah said it as she left my place the other night. Since then, I’ve been going over things in my mind. I don’t like making bad decisions. My mother drummed that into my head my whole life, and it’s hard to disregard that. Using logic and data and weighing pros and cons is comfortable. Relying on my instincts or intuition or whatever you want to call it scares the crap out of me.
Do you have the courage…?
I keep hearing Trace’s sexy, husky voice in my ear.
I want to be courageous.
I’ve been doing my job mindlessly all week, so preoccupied with other things. The sad thing is… I can do it mindlessly. When I go into a work meeting and sit and listen to people asking stupid questions and Cliff going on and on without even really saying anything, and then I go back to my cubicle to work on the same old tasks, I want to scream at the monotony of it.
The only thing that saves me is my design work. I have a few jobs to work on in the evenings and more orders coming in from my Etsy store. I love doing this. It stretches me, makes me think, lets me create.
My new family has been very restrained. I expected to be inundated with phone calls and texts. Instead, I’ve received exactly one text message from each of Joe, Cassie, Felise, and Magan, all saying a variation of we know that was hard to hear, hope you’re doing okay, get in touch when you’re ready, and miss you.
They almost make me cry.
I lie in my bed, in the dark, staring at the ceiling. I press a hand to my stomach. This is my gut. What does it feel? I let myself examine my feelings, from my boredom and frustration at work, my love and gratitude for my friends, my thankfulness to the Candlers for being so welcoming and kind to me. I can question their sanity, but I have to acknowledge how they made me feel—accepted, even though they didn’t know me, appreciated, included.
I also think about the feelings I have around Trace. Attraction. Lust. Excitement. I’ve had boyfriends. I’ve had sex. I’ve felt those things before. But not like this.
This is whiskey compared to sweet wine. Vibrant colors instead of shades of gray. Sunshine and moonlight and fireworks.
Getting in touch with my feelings isn’t easy when I was encouraged my whole life to shut them down.
I slide out of bed and cross to the sliding door onto my deck. I open it and step outside. The wind blows the trees in uneven gusts, parting them at times to reveal the moon. It’s a waning crescent, the moon getting darker. I feel it’s a time for letting go of things.
What would have happened if Mom had been able to accept Joe’s story? I would have grown up with two parents. I don’t know what witch life is like. Apparently I would have gone to an academy to learn how to witch. I would already have been part of the Candler clan. How would my life have been different?
Can I let go of all Mom’s cautions? Can I let go of my fears? Can I believe in magic?
“You don’t have to be crazy to be part of this family,” Felise says, hands clasped together in front of her. “We’ll train you!”
I’m back at the Candler home.
I called Cassie, for some reason feeling she’d be sympathetic to my apprehension. And she was. She has a gentle and astute way about her and tried to put my fears at ease, totally understanding why I’d bolted the other night. And she’d suggested another family dinner, very casual, just to get to know each other a bit better.
We’re all sitting in the den, even Trace, who is watching me with an enigmatic expression on his face. I don’t know if he’s happy I’m here. I thought that was what he wanted. But he doesn’t seem very friendly.
“Shut up,” Magan mutters. “She’ll really think we’re nuts.”
“But seriously.” Felise ignores her sister. “We’ll train you!”
“How to witch,” I say.
Everyone laughs. “Right.”
I look at Joe. “Why aren’t you a warlock? I thought male witches were warlocks.”
“No. We’re all witches. Don’t think everything you’ve seen in movies and TV shows is true.”
Right. This is real life, not a movie. I almost burst into hysterical laughter.
“Trace will be the one to do your training,” Joe adds.
I blink and my gaze shifts over to Trace. His jaw and lips are tight.
“Why him?” Felise demands. “She needs to learn from women!”
“Trace is the best one to do this,” Joe says, giving Felise a pointed look.
She blinks. “Right,” she says slowly.
My eyes dart around. I don’t even know what this training involves. I do know that Trace is a very compelling, confident man, and… he looks annoyed.
What is that about? He doesn’t want to train me? He wanted me to do this!
I glare at him.
“Don’t worry, Romy, we’ll still help you,” Felise says.
“You are never going to be able to conjure up Louboutins,” Magan tells her sister.
Felise flicks her hair off her shoulder. “You never know.”
I smile uncertainly.
“Tomorrow, come to our shop!” Felise urges me. “You can hang out with us there for a while.”
“I have to work tomorrow. I’m sorry.”
“Oh right. Okay, then Saturday?”
“Sure.”
“Tell us more about your job,” Cassie says.
“Well. I work on projects designing software for different department needs. Last year we had a big project to develop a new claims payment system.”
They all nod, but I can see their eyes glaze over.
“I work with other IT professionals, like developers and designers. We analyze the client’s needs, facilitate the software design, then test and implement it.”
“Mmm. You must be very smart,” Felise says.
I grin. “I am.”
I catch Trace’s lips twitch.
“And what about your other job? Didn’t you mention an Etsy shop?”
“Oh yes. That’s my fun job.”
“We could use some help with our website at the store,” Magan says. “I made our website myself, but I think it looks pretty amateurish.”
“Oh! Good idea!” Felise jumps up and disappears, returning with a laptop computer. A moment later, she shows me the website.