Page 17 of A Hexcellent Chance to Fall in Love

Until the Store Closes

Pepper

I haven’t had many relationships in my life.

It wasn’t that I started dating later, or because I was undatable.

I’ve always been a serial monogamist. Once I’d chosen someone, that was it for me—and those relationships lasted a long time.

(Some longer than they should have.) I might not have had a lot of experience with it even before the curse, but from the bits and pieces of media I picked up each time I came to town and from the things my coworkers told me—times were constantly changing.

And I had no idea what I was doing.

It hadn’t been long since Christina and I were in the back room of the store. So it hadn’t been long since I’d figured out I had a crush the size of a sequoia, or since I’d thought that maybe she wanted to kiss me. God knows I wanted to kiss her—and I’d been thinking about it every moment since.

She left so she could get to the haunted house, and I came back here to my apartment—which was where I’d stayed ever since.

I thought that a quick trip to get some food this morning would’ve helped clear my mind, except the smell of hydrangeas on my walk over to the coffee shop had me thinking back to the scent of her perfume.

I wanted to see Christina so badly, and at the same time I was terrified, too.

A galaxy’s worth of emotions whirled around in my gut and threatened to suck me in like a black hole.

As much as I wanted to believe that I could have something normal even for a little while, part of me was starting to question that. My life, or existence, or whatever it was, was anything but normal.

But here in my apartment I was safe—here, no one could bother me. Here I could avoid the person I so desperately wanted to see. Because even if anyone tried to look for me, they’d never be able to find me.

Being Keeper had some perks, and this apartment that came with the job was one of them.

Another thing I could thank magic for. It was decorated just the way I liked, and I could change anything by thinking hard enough.

It was a design I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to pull off on my own in the real world, but for some reason it worked.

Like magical interior decorators knew how to take my ideas and make them better.

I always loved bright colors and bold patterns, and that was everything my space was.

Not that anyone could ever come over and see it, but it was a place I was especially proud of.

I sat at the small table in my kitchen and looked out over the street in front of the store.

No matter where The Dead of Night magically popped up, my apartment came along, attached like a second story.

From my first night here, it felt like the coziest space in the world.

Now it felt like home. If there was ever a reason I wasn’t Keeper anymore, I’d probably miss it.

There were still a few things I missed about my life from before if I was being completely honest with myself.

Like Mom and Dad. It seemed a little silly.

I was a grown adult, and people lost their parents all the time—this wasn’t much different from that, from losing a loved one—though mine were still out there.

Out there not even thinking about me because to them I didn’t exist. Yet, to me, they were still very much real and very much a part of my history.

There’d been a number of times I wanted to reach out or go and see how they were doing—or like today, I wished I could call and talk to someone, anyone, about what happened with Christina—but I couldn’t.

It was probably good I moved away when I did and this all happened here—in a place I didn’t have a history with them.

And maybe it was a good thing the curse lasted only until a couple days after Halloween. So the time I spent wondering about these things—about them—wasn’t for long. Plus, I’d never have to live through another Thanksgiving, my always and forever least favorite holiday.

It had to have been at least eight years ago that I celebrated it for the last time.

The plates were all set out in the formal dining room—the good china and the real silverware.

Mom had even bought a new tablecloth for the occasion.

Thanksgiving had always been her favorite holiday—she loved to cook and feed people, but most of all, she liked the idea of “giving thanks.” Although Mom wasn’t a deeply religious person by any means, she believed there had to be some kind of higher power, and even if she wasn’t sure what it was, taking time to be thankful once a year suited her.

In fact, she embraced the challenge with gusto, making things from scratch and always trying something new.

But that year it had been extra special to her.

The new diamond on my hand had been the reason—and she was extra grateful about that.

“What time is Mitchell getting here?” Mom called from the kitchen.

I stood at the large window in the living room, scanning the street out front. The Johnsons were hosting their family this year, and by the number of cars lined up at the curb, everyone had made it. But there was no sign of Mitchell’s red Accord. He was late. Over an hour. “Soon,” I said.

A flicker of movement down the street was just Mr.Holland moving his truck to accommodate another car.

A car that wasn’t Mitchell’s. It wasn’t that he didn’t know how important this day was to Mom; I’d made that extremely clear.

I’d even wanted us to drive together, but he insisted on going to his buddy’s place for their traditional Friendsgiving—an event they’d been doing for years, just the guys.

No one could bring a date, and they all had to do the cooking themselves—no store-bought already-prepared anything was allowed.

Before, it wasn’t a big deal that he had his midmorning with the guys and his afternoon with my family, but that was before he was my fiancé.

So he promised he wouldn’t eat, just have some snacks and a beer, and he would be here by three.

I was going to kill him when he finally pulled up.

“I’m sure the traffic is terrible,” Mom said.

“What traffic?” Dad had abandoned his spot on his recliner and headed to the dining room.

“Teddy,” Mom scolded.

“What?” Dad popped a black olive in his mouth.

I texted Mitchell again.

Me: This is getting ridiculous! Where the fuck are you?!

Me: Dad’s eating from the relish tray he’s getting desperate

Me: At least pick up your phone and tell me you’re too drunk to drive

Dad came up and put his arm around my shoulder and squeezed me into his side. “I’m sure he’ll be here soon.”

I laid my head against Dad’s chest. “Thanks.” He had always been my rock.

“Maybe we can keep something warm for him?” Dad whispered.

I looked out the window again. Yep, I was going to kill him. “Mom,” I called. “Let’s just keep something warm for him. I’m sure he wouldn’t want us to wait.”

“You think that’ll be okay?” she asked.

“Yeah. Let’s eat.”

“That’s my girl.” Dad kissed the top of my head.

Mom carried a platter into the dining room, which looked like it could be on the cover of a magazine—fresh salmon with lemon spirals lined the top of the plate.

Traditional turkey had never been her style—and we usually had it the week after when they went on sale.

“I’m sure he just got caught up.” Mom had loved Mitchell from the first moment I brought him home to meet her.

“A ball of joyful energy,” she had called him.

Which was true. Mitchell had a way of lighting up a room.

If I was an extraverted introvert, he was 100 percent extravert.

He could make anyone his best friend by talking with them for five minutes.

It was one of the reasons I had fallen in love with him—talking to him had been so easy.

“Have you two decided where you’re going to settle down yet?” Mom kept her voice light as she started dishing out portions.

“Elaine,” Dad warned.

“I’m not meddling, I’m just asking,” she said.

“You can go wherever your hearts take you.” Those were her words, but she really wanted to hear we would be staying close by.

I couldn’t deny that the idea of being far away from them was difficult.

But Mitchell’s family was across the country, and we had spent the last four years in college close to mine.

So maybe it was time to let him be close to his family for a while. I didn’t want to be selfish.

After graduation we could go anywhere. “We were thinking Tahiti.”

“For the honeymoon.”

“No. To live, Mom.”

“Very funny.” She didn’t think my joke was, though.

“We haven’t decided. But I promise you will be the first to know.”

“A white Christmas on the East Coast will be nice,” Dad chimed in between scooping sweet potatoes onto his plate and then into his mouth.

He was talking about the fact that that year we would all be going to Mitchell’s family’s house for the holidays.

This way our parents could officially meet, and I could see what living in snow might be like.

“We’re all going to need to get thicker jackets,” Mom said.

“I’m gonna have to get my ski legs ready,” Dad said.

“Oh, honey, I don’t know if that’s a good idea. It’s been ages.” Mom tsked. “But speaking of white…” Mom had been hinting at wedding dress shopping for a while now, but we hadn’t even officially set a date yet.

“I suppose it couldn’t hurt to start looking,” I said.

Mom squealed like she was the one getting married. “There’s this boutique I’ve had my eye on.”

“Sounds great, Mom.” From there, she sprung into all the other wedding research she’d been doing.

It was a little overwhelming, but at the same time, I guess it meant I didn’t have to do as much work, which wasn’t a bad thing.

Especially since the idea of wedding planning gave me a rash.

It was all a little too much. Maybe Mitchell would be up for eloping?