Page 86 of Witchful Thinking

“We had fun. Let’s not leave on a sad note,” Lucy said. Alex stiffened. She mustered up enough cheeriness to fake her way through her breaking heart. “Safe travels, Alex.”

She turned and walked away, willing herself not to look back.

The wish would end, and she’d go back to being boring Lucy. Whatever spark she’d captured over the summer would fizzle out, and then it would be back to her old life. She didn’t want him to resent her for asking him to stay when he didn’t want it. He’d get bored with her and the Grove. The world waited for Alex. She loved him enough to let him go.

You don’t need to complicate his life. This is why you don’t give your heart away. It can be broken. People can be thoughtless and careless with your heart. He hadn’t asked for her heart and soul, but she’d given them to him anyway without realizing it. Silly witch.

Chapter Twenty-Four

The Berkeley Hotel, built in the year of Freya Grove’s founding, was the meeting place of those who mattered and those who had power in the community. Local people often saved for months, even years, to afford an evening of Berkeley luxury. Inside the ballroom, paper and foil stars dangled from the ceiling; the slightest breeze sent them moving to and fro. The ballroom was packed with people and mystic beings decked out in suits and dresses, cradling and clutching their half-empty champagne flutes and making hushed conversation. The live band played music made for ignoring, making enough noise that people could speak over it without shouting. Lucy adjusted her dress, a cocktail gown the color of sunshine, to keep it from slipping down. She didn’t want to accidentally flash her cousin’s future in-laws. All night Lucy was given openly curious looks from many of the members, who whispered behind their glasses and hands. Apparently not everyone was used to seeing a Caraway woman in evening wear. Her family usually leaned into more natural clothing that mirrored their connection to the elements. The Walkers were splurging for the good stuff for the wedding rehearsal dinner.

“Hey, Caraway.” Marcus came over to her. He wore a sharp pin-striped suit that molded to his body. He looked her over. “You look lovely.”

“Thank you. You clean up nicely,” Lucy said.

He gave her a narrowed, glinting glance. “How’s that merman of yours?”

Her breath caught in her throat as she felt her entire body ache. Even days later, it pained her to think of him and how things ended between them. She thought about calling Alex and just talking it out, but she couldn’t bring herself to even open his contact page. It wasn’t fair to ask him to give her what he couldn’t give yet. Marcus waited expectantly for an answer.

“He’s good,” she said with a note of finality.

“Do you want to take a walk outside?”

Lucy nodded. They went outside through the ballroom door, to the patio. The ocean waves in the near distance crashed against the shore. Seagulls squawked and flew around the lights.

“How’s your maid of honor speech?” Marcus asked.

“I wrote that months ago. Please tell me you’ve at least started yours.”

Uncertainty crept into his expression. He took out his phone and opened what looked like a Notes app. “I jotted down a few things here. Do you mind if I read it to you?”

“Let’s go.”

Marcus took a deep breath, then began reading his speech out loud. Some sixth sense brought her fully awake with every word he said. The nagging in the back of her mind refused to be stilled as he talked about love. He wasn’t talking only about marriage and unity, but the preciousness of love.

“You really love Ursula.”

Marcus’s head snapped up from his screen, and he leaned away from her. “W-what? I don’t—can’t believe you just said that.” His lips thinned in anger, and he pocketed his phone quickly, as though she’d caught him looking at it in class. “Ursula was right. You like causing drama.”

Lucy stood in his way, stopping his retreat through the ballroom’s double doors.

“Hold on. Let’s talk about this.”

Marcus backed away from Lucy. “There’s nothing to talk about. Just because you’re sprung over Alex doesn’t mean you have to pair everyone off. What kind of man would I be to—” Marcus interrupted himself. He wiped a hand over his face. “He loves her. She loves him. Point. Blank.”

“Are you sure?”

“Don’t go there,” he replied sharply. She steeled herself against his harsh tone. He wasn’t going to bully her into being quiet. “We’re going to stand up with her the day after tomorrow and be there. Nothing else.”

“We’re supposed to be there for her, but is Lincoln there for her? Be real.”

Marcus just glared at Lucy; his nostrils flared. Their mutual silence spoke volumes.

She kept going. “Think about it. He hasn’t picked out a wedding song or even a color, but you did it all. I think you enjoy being the stand-in groom.”

“Leave it alone, Lucy. This is everything that she wants. She wished for this day.” He said these words with a tone of inevitability. Marcus glowered at her. He turned away, facing the waves.

“She told you about the spell.”