by Cate Lawley
Next, The Goode Witch Shoppe. As he headed that way, he called Glenda’s cell. She didn’t pick up. Next he called the shop, even though it was well after hours. Again, no response. He was coming to the point where he’d have to decide: the shop or home—and he had no idea what to do with Felicity. If she didn’t wake up soon and he couldn’t get in touch with Glenda, he’d have to take her to the emergency room.
And that’s when his blood pressure sky rocketed. What if something was truly wrong with her, and he’d just assumed it was related to their time-traveling jaunt? Should he be rushing her to the hospital? Had he just endangered her life by delaying medical attention?
“You really don’t look so good.” Felicity’s voice was groggy.
Devlin let out a bark of relieved laughter. “Yeah, that’s because I was busy having a mental breakdown trying to decide where to take you. You passed out.”
“You don’t say. Oh, my clutch?”
Devlin turned in the direction of their home. If she was conscious, she should be fine. Right? “Uh, it’s on the floor.”
“You’re always so considerate. I’m just going to take a nap now.” And she was out again.
This was ridiculous. He had to take her to the hospital. He pulled into a parking lot and texted Glenda. Felicity’s passed out. Hospital?
Although, really, if the woman had only just gotten her first cell phone, he didn’t see her texting if she wasn’t picking up the phone.
His phone chirped.
Side-effects. She’s fine. Take her home & let her sleep it off.
And apparently Glenda was text-savvy.
He ran a hand through his hair for the hundredth time since he got in the car. He was going to be bald before he was fifty if he kept this up.
As he drove home, he crossed his fingers that Felicity woke up before he got there. Trying to get her out of the car and into her house would be trickier than his escape at the reunion because they had nosy neighbors. He wouldn’t put it past one or two of his neighbors to call the police if they saw him toting her unconscious form into the house.
When he arrived, he pulled up behind her car in the drive and as close to her door as possible. He opened the passenger door and called her name—no response. He gently shook her shoulder—nothing. Just as he was considering trying a pinch or some other more assertive tactic to wake her up, her lashes fluttered.
“Felicity? We’re home. Can you walk?”
“You’re so silly, Dev. Of course I can walk.”
Devlin’s heart stuttered. She’d called him Dev sometimes when they were younger. “Hold on a second. Let me take your shoes off.”
She might be able to walk, but no way she’d manage those heels in her state. He left the shoes and her clutch in the car, and helped her out. She swayed but stayed standing. He slung an arm around her and steadied her as they headed to the house. When they got to the door, he realized the key was likely in her clutch—in the car.
“Do you have a hide-a-key?” Devlin asked.
“No key. Five, three…” She stopped and looked at him and then reached for the door.
That’s when he realized she had an electronic lock that opened with a key or a code.
Once he’d gotten her inside, he steered her to her bedroom. “Can you get yourself to bed?” Then he grimaced. Of course she couldn’t.
He pulled the covers back, unzipped her dress, saw she had a slip on underneath and breathed a sigh of relief. He really didn’t want her to think he’d taken advantage of the situation. Because, without him actually realizing it—at least until now—he hadn’t given up. So what if they didn’t have all the same memories? He was falling in love, and he’d make it work—if she was willing to try.
After he got her dress off, he helped her slide under the sheets. He turned the light on in the connecting bathroom and headed toward the door.
“Aren’t you going to stay? I love it when you cuddle with me.” And then she was asleep.
He checked the spare room, but it was filled with boxes of t-shirts and bags, stacks of prints, and promotional materials—but no bed. As he curled up on her sofa, he wondered what she’d meant with the cuddling. Hopefully she wasn’t talking about some other guy, because that would be…disappointing. Who was he kidding? It would be much worse than disappointing. He thumped the throw pillow and readjusted to a more comfortable position, but there was no way he’d be getting any sleep tonight.
Chapter 19
The smell of coffee woke him. When he opened his eyes, he found another iteration of Glenda standing in front of him holding a steaming mug. She had an apron on over a pair of capris and a fitted knit shirt. He wasn’t sure what this particular look was about. “Chic homemaker?”
“Do you think? That’s quite flattering from a hungover man in the early hours of the morning.” Glenda’s reading glasses hung incongruously around her neck, and they swung as she leaned toward him with the mug. “Coffee?”
Since he felt like he’d entered the Twilight Zone, coffee sounded especially appealing.
“Yes, thank you.” He accepted the mug and took a sip. Perfect—hot but not scalding. “And I’m not hungover.”
“Of course you are. You’re not a reaper anymore, and time travel within the last fifty years or so can be hard on the body.”
He didn’t remember that coming up during their strategy session. He groaned when he sat up all the way. He was sore. “You’re hard to reach in an emergency, but you appear out of the blue when least expected. I’d heard you were…” He took a sip of coffee as he searched for a polite word for flaky. Since none came to mind, he dropped it. “What exactly are you doing here?”
“I’m here to beat the memories out of your girlfriend, if necessary.”
He set his mug down on the coffee table, then rubbed his face. “Okay. Run that by me one more time.”
“I thought maybe a jab or two might knock them loose. Magically speaking, of course. I’m against violence unless absolutely necessary.”
Felicity walked in looking ragged around the edges but otherwise fine. She’d taken the time to put on a pair of jeans and a tank top, and had washed away her makeup from the night before. “Who’s beating whom? Oh, I smell coffee.”
While Felicity grabbed herself a cup of coffee, Devlin thought about getting up. Then he gave up and began to calculate which aches came from carrying around an unconscious woman in his arms and which came from bouncing around the time continuum.
After Felicity walked into the living room, she sat down next to Devlin on the couch. “What’s with the violence?”
Devlin reached for his coffee then winced when his back muscles protested. He knew exactly what had caused that particular ache. “Something about a magical beat down. I’m not clear on the particulars.”
Glenda reached into one of the pockets of her apron and withdrew a bottle of ibuprofen. She opened the bottle and handed him two. “You really should take those with water.”
Devlin just grunted and reached for his coffee. After he swallowed the pills and washed them down with coffee, he’d done what he could for his less-than-excellent physical state. “What’s next? And don’t tell me you’re going to beat the memories out of Felicity, because I’m pretty sure neither of us is okay with that.”
“I’m good,” Felicity said. She spoke so quietly that Devlin wouldn’t have noticed but for Glenda’s laser-like focus on her.
“Sorry?”
“I said, I’m good.” Her voice was firmer now. She turned to Devlin, and said clearly and firmly, “I know why we broke up. Your ex-wife implied that you’d been sleeping around with other first-years, including her.”
Devlin twisted around to face her. “You thought I was sleeping with other women?”
Much of that time was hazy. He’d been pretty upset and the first year of law school was bad. More to read, to outline, to memorize, generally to do than hours in the day. And on top of that he’d been worried about losing his scholarship, an
d pissed at how much influence his fiancée’s parents had over her life.
“Not until your ex made it clear you were.”
“But…I wasn’t. I wouldn’t.”
“Well, I know that now. I was twenty-two and in love with a guy I barely ever saw. And it’s not like I was exactly full of confidence back then.”
“But why didn’t you say?”
“Because that would have been hard. I’m sorry.”
Devlin closed his eyes. His ex-wife had seen weakness and pounced. He liked to think she wouldn’t do something quite so nasty these days, that she’d grown in maturity and developed more of a conscience as a mother and a wife. She probably had. And if she hadn’t? He’d been the man who’d chosen to date and then marry her. The man who’d had a child with her.
Could he blame youth, inexperience, or loneliness? Sure. But he couldn’t point the finger at Sylvia. It takes two to make a couple after all.
Devlin shook his head. “Yeah, I did some stupid things at the time, too. I tried to talk to you, afterwards, I mean. Do you remember that?”
“Well, at the time, it felt like you didn’t try that hard and that confirmed my fears.”
“After I lost you, I was…upset. And then my grades slipped, and I was trying desperately to hang onto my scholarship. Law school was the only thing I thought I had left. Maybe I got wrapped up in that and I didn’t try hard enough.”
“I think we were both very, very young.” Felicity looked around the living room. “Where’s Glenda?”
“She’s done.” Devlin put his coffee mug down and took hers and set it on the table as well. “Forgive me?”
Her lips tipped up a little and her eyes crinkled.
When he pulled her into his lap, she snuggled up against his chest. And his back twinged and his arms ached, but she said, “If you forgive me,” and he couldn’t have cared less about sore muscles and old mistakes. He kissed her, and she kissed him back.
Epilogue
Glenda stood in front of her dressing table mirror and studied her reflection. She’d become too involved, grown attached to the players and the outcome. Her clients weren’t her children, and she couldn’t behave as if they were—even if they sent flowers and made her feel appreciated.
Her eyes in the mirror shined bright. There had been another couple, once, a long time ago, and she’d been too attached... But this time, everything had ended just as it should. She blinked away the moisture in her eyes. This time, no one had been hurt, and everything had ended just as it should.
She took a tube of her favorite shade of lipstick from the drawer and freshened her lips. Bedivere wouldn’t see her, but a woman felt at her best when she was comfortable with her appearance. Her mother had taught her that—in a different time and a different context, true—but the advice resonated even today.
She touched the mirror lightly with her index finger.
“Yes, Glenda, you have an update for me?” Bedivere sounded rushed, as if she’d caught him in the middle of something.
“Your friend Devlin is securely ensconced in the arms of his beloved.” Glenda modulated her voice to reflect only the satisfaction of a job well done.
“Excellent news. Any difficulties?”
“Of course not, darling. Everything went exactly as planned.”
“My confidence in magical math continues to grow. And you have my thanks, for Devlin and Tara.”
“Glad to help. Until next time.” She tapped the mirror again, ending the transmission. But this time, she avoided her reflection.
Tears and regret wouldn’t change what had happened all those years ago. But she couldn’t forget that the people she helped were clients, not family.
She turned abruptly away from her dressing table and the mirror above it, and she focused her attention on her most recent—and much happier—match.
THE END
Bonus Content
Interested in bonus content for The Goode Witch Matchmaker series? Subscribe to my newsletter to receive the series origin story, some of my Victorian-era research for Timely Love, a bonus chapter for Ghostly Love, Zelda’s favorite drink recipes from Deathly Love, and some bonus tidbits for Forgotten Love. Sign up at http://eepurl.com/bWsqXH.
Also by Cate Lawley
The Goode Witch Matchmaker
Timely Love
Ghostly Love
Deathly Love
Forgotten Love
VEGAN VAMP
Adventures of a Vegan Vamp
Writing as Kate Baray
Lost Library
Lost Library
Spirited Legacy
Defensive Magic
Lost Library Collection: Books 1-3
Witch’s Diary
Lost Library Shorts Collection
Spirelli Paranormal Investigations
Season One: Episodes 1-6
Cursed Curios
The Covered Mirror: A Cursed Curio Short
Anthologies
Mirror, Mirror: A Collection of Halloween Shorts
Demon’s Delight: An Urban Fantasy Christmas Collection
Writing as K.D. Baray
BEAUREGARD
Mistaken: A Seth Beauregard Short
About the Author
Cate Lawley is the pen name for Kate Baray's sweet romances and cozy mysteries, including The Goode Witch Matchmaker and Vegan Vamp series. When she's not tapping away at her keyboard or in deep contemplation of her next fanciful writing project, she's sweeping up hairy dust bunnies and watching British mysteries with her pointers and hounds.
Cate also writes urban and paranormal fantasy as Kate Baray and thrillers as K.D. Baray.
For more information:
@KateBarayAuthor
katebaray
www.catelawley.com
[email protected]