Cecily couldn’t keep from smiling. Her mom knew something was up. Of course she did. “Hey. Scott’s here. I’m gonna put you on speaker, okay?”
“Okay...” Mom’s voice came through the speaker halfway through the word.
“Hey, Nicole,” Scott said.
“Hi Scott. What’s going on, you two?” She sounded ten kinds of suspicious.
Cecily hadn’t planned to tell her mom like this. She figured they’d do the whole get-together-for-brunch-and-break-the-news-in-person thing, but then, as they’d left the doctor’s office, after they’d heard their baby’s heartbeat for the first time, Cecily knew she had to call her mom. Right then.
She’d made it to the car and Scott hadn’t even tried to start the thing, just looked at her and said, “So are we calling Nicole now, or do you want to wait until we get home?”
She loved him so much—even more now than she had twenty minutes ago, which she hadn’t even known was possible until she saw that little heart beating and heard that whirring, whooshing rhythm.
They’d made a human together! A real, little human being.. She had to tell somebody, or she might burst.
“We have some news,” Scott prompted when Cecily hadn’t responded for a beat too long.
There was a pause on the line then, “Well... are you gonna tell it to me?”
“I’m pregnant!” The words leapt out of Cecily’s mouth so fast and sudden, she slapped her hands over it in case more word vomit decided to flow out behind it.
Which meant the silence on the other side of the conversation was deafening in its contrast. Especially as it stretched.
Cecily’s excitement was starting to fade into a kind of mortification she’d never felt before when Scott spoke up. “Hey, Nicole? You there?”
“I’m here. Yes. Totally here.” She sounded shocked. But shocked wasn’t bad, right? “That’s not what I expected you to say. Um. Wow.”
Scott’s hand squeezed hers and when she looked at him, he gave her a reassuring smile like he knew she was starting to regret this impetuous decision to call her mom on the fly.
“It wasn’t the plan,” she said, “but we just heard its heartbeat for the first time. And we’re really excited. And all I wanted to do was to call you. Maybe...” she sighed. Maybe she’d just ruined the one chance she got to tell her mom she was pregnant for the first time. She hadn’t even known that was something she cared about until it was too late.
“Cissy, I’m so glad you called me.” Her mom’s voice was thick. “You’re happy? Like, really, really happy?”
There was that excitement and joy in Cecily’s chest again, buzzing under her skin as soon as she heard the happy tears in her mom’s voice. “So happy.” Now she was crying. “Shocked. And scared to death. But so happy.”
Mom’s laugh was tearful. “I just want to hug you, but the stupid phone is in the way!”
Cecily laughed too. “We’ll drive there now, if you want.”
“No, I’ll already be at work. I have weird hours today.” She could hear the eye roll in her mom’s tone. “Just, don’t go buying nursery stuff or touring hospitals without me.”
“We’ve got a lot of time,” Cecily assured her. Touring hospitals? Was that a thing? When she looked up at Scott, his expression said he was thinking something similar.
They had time—months and months of it. Plenty of time to buy the stuff they needed, and learn about being parents, and all the other myriad of tasks she was sure she was forgetting. But, for now, they’d slayed the first two tasks of her pregnant life: visiting the doctor, and telling her mom.
Check, and check.
⫷⫸⫷⫸⫷⫸
Wren adjusted the way she was sitting to give her hand a break from holding her phone while still keeping her face centered in the screen. She’d been talking to Beth, her witch-friend from Philadelphia, for about thirty minutes. They’d gotten through the requisite how-are-yous and other small talk catching up. Wren genuinely did enjoy the small talk, at least she did when talking to somebody she actually liked. Beth was very cool. Smart, powerful, friendly. Wren counted herself lucky to have met her on one of the first legs of her nomadic life, over a year ago. She ran Wren’s favorite crystal and herb shop on the eastern seaboard and had provided the intel that had led Wren to race south last year when Zander was in serious trouble with the Shadow.
“Wait, did you say you’re in Seattle right now?” Beth asked, pushing her round, black-framed glasses up by the bridge.
“For now, yeah.” She wasn’t sure how long she’d stay, but she wasn’t in any hurry to leave either.
“Shit, how’s your magic?”
That was an odd question. “Fine, I think. Why do you ask?”
“On the message boards I read, all of the witches over there are talking about a lot of magic disruption and, like, spiritual interference.” She swept her sleek, dark hair up off her neck and tied it into a ponytail while she spoke. “I thought maybe you’d felt it too.”
Huh. Sometimes the universe really did deliver exactly what a person needed. “It’s wild you’d say that, actually. My friend is a medium, and his mom just passed away—but he hasn’t seen her.”
Beth’s brows drew up in the middle with sympathy. “Ugh. That’s awful. But the storm’s gotta be the culprit.”
“Storm?”
“That’s what some of the witches are calling it—a magic storm.” Beth rolled her eyes like she wasn’t sure she liked that term for it. “It’s just an easy way of saying there’s a lot of chaos in the magical atmosphere right now.”
Chaos in the magical atmosphere. Every time Wren started to think she knew plenty about magic, something else came along to show her just how clueless she was. “Okay, so is there a way to make it better? Or, like, part the clouds or something?”
Beth’s chin pulled back while her eyes darted up like she was thinking—and not real pleased with the conclusion she was drawing. “Not really.” She shook her head. “You’d need an entire coven working together—maybe more than one—to shift the energy away. But the good news is this stuff clears up on its own. Just hang tight and I bet your friend’s mom will come through soon.”
Okay, well that was something, at least. It would be great to give Zander and Callum that news, anticlimactic as it was.
The two of them had been so rock solid together last night at the bar. Callum had been understandably raw, the sadness in his baby blues easy to pick-up on, even for Wren and she’d only seen the guy a handful of times. But Zander had been there for him with her brand of no-nonsense care, and he’d let her support him. Wren had been grateful for the time that had passed as she watched them together. Even just a year ago, she wouldn’t have been able to breathe through her own heartbreak if she’d sat across from a couple so in love.
She shook the thought from her head and forced her attention back on the conversation happening here and now instead of getting lost in the memory abyss of Bridgette. “So what causes a,” what had Beth called it? “A magic storm?”
Beth’s shrug was nonchalant and who-the-hell-knows. “It’s hard to say for sure. Probably some fucking warlock who thinks he’s a god trying to dabble in magic that’s above his pay grade.”
Wren laughed. “Never a witch who thinks she’s a goddess?”
“Hell no,” came Beth’s definitive response. “We’re too smart for that. It’s always the dudes.”
They ended the call about twenty minutes later, after agreeing to chat again next month and after Wren promised to swing into the shop as soon as she was back on the east coast.
Wren’s phone buzzed again before she could stand from the table or pull up a message to Zander. When she looked at the screen, she groaned.
It was a text from her cousin.
My boyfriend’s had a cough for three weeks. Should I make him go to the doctor?
No Hey, how have you been. No, Sorry to bug you. Just a random health question out of nowhere.
She scrolled up
to the previous conversation the two of them had shared—speeding by the photo of the nasty ankle gash to save her appetite—and sure enough, same thing last time.
She was so sick of this.
It’s not like she cared that her extended family didn’t keep in touch—in fact, she preferred it that way—but to stay distant until you had a random medical question was just obnoxious. Didher cousin not know any other nurses she could call? Or, more appropriately, her own doctor?
She brought her thumbs to the screen with a sigh. Maybe if she just answered the question in the most effusive way possible—
Knock knock knock.
Wren had the sudden, idiotic thought that her cousin had somehow found out she was in town and searched out her RV—but that would be ridiculous, even for her. Still, Wren couldn’t imagine who was knocking at—she checked the time—six o’clock on a Friday night. Maybe it was the owner of the friend-of-a-friend’s house she was currently parked alongside, in which case, she should probably answer.
Blood-red hair registered first when Wren pushed open the door. Then the big brown eyes, the barbell through her arched brow and the ring in her septum.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Cecily shifted in her chair. She’d been to this restaurant at least ten times—it was Alyssa’s favorite spot to meet for dinner—but she’d never noticed how hard and uncomfortable the chairs were.
Damn, she was tired. Like, could-curl-up-in-a-ball-and-go-to-sleep-on-the-floor-right-this-minute exhausted. She shouldn’t be. She’d gone to bed early last night and, yeah, she’d woken up at three a.m., but she’d taken a nap after she and Scott got home from the doctor’s office.
Her phone buzzed where it was tucked alongside her leg in the chair and she picked it up, expecting to see a text from Alyssa explaining why she was late, but found an alert for a voicemail—from somebody else entirely.
For fuck’s sake, was he really still trying to make her talk to him? It was pure morbid, possibly masochistic curiosity that brought the phone to her ear after triggering the voicemail to play.
“Hi Cecily, I hope this is still your number.”
Her stomach knotted with the sound of that voice.
“It’s me, your dad. I was hoping to have the chance to talk to you. A lot has happened since we talked last and—well, I’d love to see you. Or even just talk on the phone. I know I hurt you and your sisters, but I’m different now. A lot is different. And now I think you could understand. I’m reaching out to you because—well, I think we have the most in common. You’ll understand when I explain. Call me back at this number—if you want to.”
By the time Cecily pulled the phone away from her ear, she was nauseated and her heart was pounding.
What the actual fuck?
“Who was that on the phone? You looked like you wanted to murder somebody.”
Cecily looked up to see Alyssa settling herself into the chair across the table. Her balayage dyed hair was curled and pulled into a ponytail on the back of her head. Her earrings and necklace were a matching set of semiprecious stones set into white gold. She was wearing a pewter colored cami of a tank, complete with lace edge, beneath a black, close-cut blazer.
She looked like lawyer Barbie—only the real version, not the Elle Woods version—which was so very Alyssa.
Cecily smiled, the weight of her stress lightening as she looked at her sister. Their relationship was different now than it had been before the whole Cecily-becoming-a-medium thing, but it had evolved into something good ever since Alyssa moved out of their mom’s apartment. They got dinner or brunch together at least once per month. Their conversations were light and easy—nothing gripping or particularly hard hitting—but that had always been Alyssa’s style.
Cecily hoped that would continue today. Maybe she should have brought Scott along to tell Alyssa about the baby they’d made. But this sisters-dinner was scheduled weeks ago, way before baby news was on the docket, and besides, Scott needed to work late tonight to make up for calling out sick yesterday.
She glanced at her phone long enough to delete the voicemail. Then she tucked it alongside her leg and smiled at Alyssa. “It was nobody. How are you?”
An hour later, Cecily was finishing her entree, having already helped Alyssa polish off the appetizer, when Alyssa asked the question she’d been dreading.
“So what about you? Anything new or exciting to report?”
It was the same question Alyssa asked whenever they got a meal together. It was meant to be sarcastic-funny since Cecily never actually had anything exciting to share—at least nothing she’d share with Alyssa. Anything noteworthy was also usually “spooky” (Alyssa’s word) so Cecily kept it to herself.
Today, however...
Cecily sat her fork down and methodically chewed her final bite of pasta as she nodded.
“Oh yeah? You never have news.” Alyssa sat her own fork down and leaned in like she was about to be dished up something seriously juicy. Her brow furrowed. “Are you and Scott still together?”
Cecily pulled back while her brows shot up. “Jesus, yes. We’re still very much together. It’s not that kind of news. The opposite kind, actually.”
Alyssa’s eyes went wide. “Did he propose?”
“No—” Oh, wow. Would he now that they were going to have a baby? Did she want him to? She put that in the pile of thoughts to unpack later. “No, he didn’t propose. But it’s sort of like that.”
Alyssa’s expression turned questioning with a dash of suspicion. “Okay...”
Oh god. This was it.
“Uh... Well. We...” It was a lot harder to say this to Alyssa who was sitting in front of her than it had been to say it to Mom over the phone. She drew a breath and spit the words out on the exhale. “Are having a baby.”
Alyssa sat frozen for a second, eyes stuck wide, her mouth hanging open. Then she shook herself and sat forward. “I’m sorry, what?”
Cecily couldn’t help but laugh a little at Alyssa’s shocked expression. “I’m pregnant.”
“Okay. What?” Alyssa sat back in her chair. She raised her hands above the table, then crossed her arms over her chest. “Are you fucking with me?”
Cecily shook her head. “Not at all. One hundred percent serious.”
Now she just stared, her blue-green eyes unreadable, her glossed lips parted like there were too many things she wanted to say but none she could get up her throat. Finally, she went with, “Does mom know?”
That’s not what Cecily had expected, but okay, she’d play along. “Yes. I called her after my appointment yesterday, once we knew everything was good.”
“Did she freak out?”
Cecily sneered. “She was surprised—we all were—but she didn’t freak out. She was really happy for us.” Which was more than she could say for Alyssa’s reaction at the moment...
“Are you gonna keep it?”
Cecily’s back hit the back of the chair. What the hell kind of a question was that to lob at somebody who’d just told you they were pregnant?
“Don’t look at me like I’m being a bitch,” Alyssa remarked. “It’s a valid question.”
“It’s a rude question,” Cecily countered. “And yes, we are planning to keep the baby.”
Alyssa’s scoff of a laugh was devoid of humor—in fact, it was lined with something that felt an awful lot like judgement. “Shit, Cissy. That’s—yeah, that’s completely nuts. You know that right?” She leaned forward again, dropping her voice. “A baby,” she said. “Like, a baby.”
Cecily tried, but failed to keep the annoyance and sarcasm out of her voice and expression. “Yes, Alyssa. A baby. I’m aware, trust me. What is your deal?”
“You don’t even have a real job. And you’ve been with Scott, what? Six months?”
What the hell? “So what? We love each other and we’re excited about this. You’re the first person I’ve told, besides Mom. I can’t believe you’re reacting this way.”
That seemed to give Alyssa
pause. “You haven’t told Zander?”
“Not yet, no.”
“Well, thanks. That’s...cool, I guess.” She sighed. “Look, I’m sorry if I’m being mean, I just don’t get it. Why would you want to have a baby right now?”
Cecily started to come back with some witty comment—but then she couldn’t. The fact was she hadn’t wanted to have a baby now. This hadn’t been the plan. Never mind that she and Scott hadn’t been together very long—they’d been partners a lot longer than they’d been romantically involved, that was for sure. “We just... do. Okay?”
Alyssa was right that she didn’t have a “real job,” fine, but she did have a job doing something she loved. Plus Scott was gaining real notoriety as a tattoo artist. They were going to be okay.
They were.
⫷⫸⫷⫸⫷⫸
Wren was suddenly aware her mouth was hanging open and forced it to make words. “Abby?” Okay, one word. Whatever.
“Hey. Wanna...go grab a coffee?”
Wren looked past her, though what she expected to see, she wasn’t sure. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m making good on that coffee date you promised me.”
Wren started to respond but stopped short and laughed under breath. “Coffee date I promised you—is that how that went down?”
Abby’s smile was mischievous. “Of course it was. I said you could pay me back by going to coffee with me, you were taken aback by my totally smooth skills and agreed on the spot.”
“Ah, right. I remember now.” She liked this made-up version much better than the reality of it—that she’d stumbled out of that tattoo shop like a newborn fawn all because a seriously beautiful witch had asked her out.
“So...how about it?” Abby ticked a nod at the car in the driveway behind her. It was a small, zippy looking hybrid hatchback. The black paint was shiny, but the car wasn’t new. It was easy to see that it had some miles and love on it.
Wren returned her gaze to Abby, standing in front of her with an expectant, questioning expression that suddenly shifted to something more worried than joking.
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