And he never will.
“Mom,” Savvy says, “we’ve been over this.”
“I don’t have to like it.” Her mother sniffs. “And I won’t.”
Her mother, the mood killer. But Savvy refuses to let her disapproval be a hovering dark cloud over this occasion.
Savvy rests her forehead against Griffin’s for a beat. “See you soon,” she says.
“I can’t wait.” Griffin releases her hands with a reluctance she relates to.
Her friends each take an arm and steer her inside.
* * *
Savvy stands in front of the mirror in the preparatory suite. She wears The Dress, aka a tasteful off-the-shoulder beaded gown fitted to accentuate her curves. Her medium-length caramel curls are topped by the flower crown. She’s in flats instead of heels, because she’s plenty tall as is. She should feel entirely comfortable in this ensemble, which she chose.
She can’t quite manage it.
It doesn’t help that every witch Savvy knows has been around to ask her about one thing or another, some reprising Brie’s and Elle’s questions from before. Is her flower crown statement enough? Should it have more rue or maybe hemlock? How is she feeling? Because a quick spell, not even a spell, truly, just a suggestion of an incantation, can nix those nerves in a jiff, if she likes? And, oh, does she need more champagne? It’s charmed, so it won’t get her sloshed. But it’ll take the edge off those nerves she must be feeling.
Still, Savvy knows this is an unusual occasion, not least because it involves her. Seemingly every witch located in the continental United States has traveled here to either celebrate or side-eye her decision. She’s grateful that among all the gossipy strangers and, well, her mother, she also has Brie and Elle.
Or at least she is until Brie marches over with a flute of bubbly in one hand and considers Savvy’s reflection. Brie’s celestial-themed tattoo sleeves are a striking contrast with her slinky pale pink bridesmaid dress and fuchsia-highlighted hair.
She tsks. “I just think—look at this.” She points at Savvy and casts a glamour. “It has more of a wow factor,” she adds.
Brie is trying and failing to keep a straight face.
Savvy raises an eyebrow like a drawn arch. Because Brie has bestowed an entirely animated Jessica Rabbit look on her from head to toe, red gown and all. Yes, even her eyes resemble the cartoon sexpot’s.
“Brie.”
“Okay, so not that.… How about something ethereal. Like the goddess herself.”
Savvy would protest that this fun is at her expense, but at least Brie isn’t asking any more questions. And anyway, her friend has to get this out of her system first.
She gestures at Savvy, and her spell transforms Savvy back into 3D and the red cartoon dress into a flowing nightgownesque garment. She hesitates, then nods to give Savvy knee-length Lady Godiva hair.
“I look like I’m about to start a cult,” Savvy says. She puts her hands on her hips. “Stop trolling me.”
She waves at her reflection, restoring the chosen look that she doesn’t feel entirely comfortable in, which Brie knows.
“I’m nervous enough as it is,” she says. “No more mockery. I think it might be suspicious if I show up to my own wedding in glamour.”
“Let me live,” Brie whines.
And, of course, this would be the moment when her mother reenters the fray. She’s been lingering over by the champagne, tossing back one after another.
Savvy braces as she struts over in her low-cut, diamond-studded rose-colored jumpsuit. She’s always embraced Dolly Parton as her style guru. But her personality is less Dolly’s sweet sass and more murderous “bless your heart.” C.R.O.N.E. and Savvy are her entire life—she can’t understand why Savvy wants anything besides the job and their community in her own.
Savvy has always looked up to her mother, the famous Claudia, one of the leaders of this, what might be the most powerful C.R.O.N.E. chapter in the world. She wishes her mom would approve of the wedding, but has given up. Claudia has too much baggage about men and about love being a distraction from their mission.
“I was just playing around,” Brie says. “This is a once-in-a-lifetime thing.”
Claudia snorts. “We’ll see about that.”
Savvy may have to murder someone before the day is out.
Except Brie’s right. This is a special day. And she’s pretty sure there’s no murder on wedding days. (Well, unless it’s a TV show and George R. R. Martin is in charge.)
She imagines Griffin witnessing the magic dress-the-bridezilla shenanigans that just happened and has to press down guilt. There’s a reason she doesn’t find Brie’s antics funny. She’s getting married as Savannah Wilde, which is who she is, but also as a respectable, non-witch citizen, which she most definitely is not.
C.R.O.N.E. operatives can’t break their covers, not even for their spouses. So as far as Griffin knows she’s a public relations consultant. He believes one of her biggest clients happens to be an animal rescue located at the Farmhouse that a lot of her friends and her mother are involved in. That’s how it will stay. It’s remarkable how much travel the PR gig covers for, and she’s absorbed enough marketing speak over the years to sell the ruse. She’s glamoured when she’s actually working, so even if he did see her doing something with her powers, he wouldn’t know he had.
He’ll never find out who he’s really marrying. That feels unfair. But there’s nothing she can do about it, except be a good wife and a better operative. Witches have always had to live with a reality that can’t accept them for who they are. She’d like to think Griffin is different, but the rules are the rules on this one. No testing that premise.
Elle comes bustling into the suite, carrying a tablet. The first warning sign is how she avoids Savvy and heads over to whisper to the table of bridesmaids (and fellow operatives) drinking champagne. There are gasps. Her mother, sensing gossip, immediately gravitates back to that end of the large room with the slanted wood-beamed ceiling.
“You really hated the red, even in theory?” Brie asks. “I bet Griffin would like it. I seem to remember you wearing a red dress when you met.”
Not exactly. But the heat in the memory the statement conjures puts a flush in Savvy’s cheeks.
“I don’t want to be glamoured today. Or ever around Griffin, if I can help it.” Savvy shakes her head. “You wear red.”
“Blasphemy.” Brie fluffs her hair. She’s so fond of pink, it’s basically the limit of her wardrobe. That’s the reason Savvy agreed to have it be the color scheme for today.
“What?!” Her mother’s shock is audible across the room. When she catches Savvy and Brie paying attention, she lowers her voice and turns away from them.
Savvy exchanges a look with her best friend and they stalk across the room. “Mom, what’s going on?” she asks.
“Well…” Her mother evasively pours champagne. “I don’t want to say I told you so.”
This is a lie. Her mother loves saying that phrase. “Why would you be saying it?”
The others are silent.
“Seriously, what’s up? Did Griffin pull a runner?” She gives it a teasing note, but she finds she’s bracing for the response.