Page 192 of The Havenport Collection

Nora

January

M onday breakfast at Jackie’s Diner was the highlight of my week. My coven, all together, supporting each other and celebrating the fuck out of our awesomeness. It didn’t get much better than this.

“So I’m thinking about taking a vow of celibacy,” I announced, dramatically plopping into the booth next to Cece.

“Nora, can we table the celibacy talk until after I’ve had my corned beef hash?” Astrid asked, rubbing her temples. “You know I can’t manage your moods on an empty stomach.”

I blew her a kiss and took a swig of Cece’s mimosa.

“Why are you celibate? Did the aliens come and abduct all the single men? Or worse, did they all collectively lose their eyesight? Your body has not been ravaged by the horrors of childbirth. Get some, lady.”

“Very funny, Emily.”

“I’m serious. It’s like keeping a sports car in a garage. Drive it.”

Cece smiled at me. She was my best friend and used to my antics. “Why not tell us what’s going on, sweetie?”

“I’m just over it. I’ve been in a dry spell for months and I just have no interest anymore.

The other night I was having cocktails with Christian and Dante, and I ended up flirting with a totally mediocre guy at the Whale.

And I just realized what a massive waste of time men are.

I wasn’t having fun; I was trying to get some random guy to like me. And that’s bullshit.”

The coven members nodded their heads sagely. Every person at this table had plenty of experience with shitty men.

“I am sick of trying to please men. I am sick of trying to be good enough. If I date someone it’s going to be because I really want to, not because I need validation.

Or if I sleep with someone, I want it to be for me, and I want it to be spectacular—you know, passion and lust and longing.

I don’t want to settle for subpar fucking with someone I barely tolerate.

I’d rather just be celibate.” Jackie arrived with my mimosa to catch the tail end of my rant.

She was used to the outrageous conversations at Monday breakfast.

She shook her elaborate silver hairdo at me. “Oh Nora,” she said, turning back to the kitchen.

“Does celibacy mean no sex ever or no sex with a partner?” Astrid asked.

“Or partners! This is a sex positive group.”

“Thanks, Emily,” Cece said.

What a horrific idea. “Hell, no. I don’t want my sex toy subscription box to go to waste. And Tracy’s Dog will take care of me when I’m lonely.”

Maggie raised an eyebrow. “What’s Tracy’s Dog?”

I shrugged. “If you know, you know.” Astrid gave me a fist bump. “And if you don’t, I suggest you google it immediately because your life is about to change.” I noticed Maggie discreetly take her phone out of her purse and gave her a “you’re welcome” wink.

“So you really are swearing off men?” Cece asked, her face full of concern.

I loved my best friend, but since she met and married Liam, she had lost some of her hard-won cynicism.

She had come back to Havenport a couple of years ago to recharge for a bit and ended up with a new career and a new fiancé.

She ran her own marketing agency in town and was responsible for the surge in tourism dollars Havenport had recently been enjoying. “Is that the answer?”

Violet bit her lip and stared at me. I shifted uncomfortably in the vinyl booth.

She had caught me in a moment of weakness a couple of months ago and hadn’t let me forget it.

She was a wild card, that one. A free-spirited single mom who had recently captured the heart of Callum Quinn, Havenport’s most eligible bachelor.

I adored her, but she was the newest coven member, and I was terrified she would spill what she saw the night of Cece and Liam’s wedding.

I would never live down the shame of making out with Luke Kim. Never.

Yes, he was indisputably hot—and trust me I had tried in vain to dispute it over the years—but he was an arrogant, rich shithead. And that was a line I should never have crossed.

“Yes. I am swearing off unworthy men. Plus, look around this table. All the good ones are taken. And I need to focus all my energy on my business and my new house.” Building my inclusive fashion empire was taking up every moment of my time right now, and I had a whole, crumbling home to deal with too. The last thing I needed was man drama.

“The house! Of course. I need photos,” Violet said, gesturing to my phone on the table.

Flowing with the change of subject, I whipped out my phone to show them some photos of my new house. I only showed a few; the others were not yet fit for public consumption.

After months of searching and waiting, I’d found the place of my dreams. Unfortunately, in order to be the price of my dreams, it was a fixer-upper. At least that’s what I told my well- meaning family and friends. It was more of a gut job and divine miracle sort of project, but I could handle it.

Since I was a little girl, I had been in love with the row of historic brownstones on State Street.

They were large, imposing, and filled with details and character.

The unit I bought had been owned by Miss Stella, who had passed several years ago.

The place, which had been lovingly maintained at one time, had fallen into disrepair since her death.

But I was dealing with it. The exterminator would probably be buying a vacation home with what I paid him to rid the place of mice, bats, ants, and a variety of unidentified creepy crawlies, but it was worth every cent to know I was the only living thing in there.

It had three floors, a basement, and a roof deck—or at least it would when I could afford to build one—and a small, fenced backyard with a patio. It was perfect for me. Bursting with character and history. It just needed a lot of TLC and money. But I was working on it.

“I thought you weren’t moving in until March when the renovations were finished?” Maggie asked.

“I found a renter for my apartment above the store, so I decided to move in early. I’ll be fine.” I said it in a confident tone so no one could see how nervous I was.

My place wasn’t exactly habitable yet. But it would get there. And subletting my apartment over the store was bringing in some necessary cash to help with renovations.

Buying my own home had been my dream for a long time.

And I had planned and saved and was ready.

I wasn’t quite ready for just how much work it would take or how one bad blizzard would cause so much damage to the already ancient roof.

So my plans for built-in bookshelves and a kick-ass roof deck were shelved in favor of far less sexy projects, like bringing the electrical up to code and patching the roof.

I’d live. It would be fine. Or at least that’s what I kept telling myself.

Because this was what I did. I took challenges and I made them my bitch. I pushed and scrapped and fought my way to everything I wanted. I was proud of my grit.

It was what kept me going and made me who I was. But I wasn’t ready yet to publicly own what a shitshow my house was. Mainly because I didn’t want my family finding out, and in a town as small as Havenport, that was almost impossible.

My father was largely absent, working nonstop in the family restaurant, and my brothers were overprotective to the extreme.

But it was my mother’s judgment I was trying to avoid.

She had begged me not to buy a house, telling me to wait until I was married—as if that was ever happening—and that men didn’t like women who were “too independent.” The joke was on her because my independence was legendary and had scared off many a cowardly man already.

I may only be thirty-three but my man-repelling armor was well developed.

I was the youngest of six kids, the girl my parents had always dreamed of.

And as such, I was a pampered princess growing up, protected and coddled by my parents, grandparents, and my five older brothers.

My mom left when I was twelve, seeking a richer, older husband and a reprieve from the responsibilities of six kids, but despite her physical absence, she continued to meddle and judge constantly.

She had very low expectations for me—look pretty and get married. On the former, I could never please her, even with my best efforts. And the latter, well, that was just not in the cards.

I hated feeling tied down or restricted. And I really hated being told what to do. Which is why I was destined for eternal spinsterhood. No man could handle this. That I knew for sure. I was an alpha bitch, and I bowed down to no man.

I steered the conversation away from my crumbling home to more neutral topics—Maggie’s recent honeymoon with her husband, Josh, and the antics of Violet’s twins.

“It was just so romantic,” Maggie gushed, sipping her mimosa. “We stayed in an actual tree house! But it was luxurious and even had a hot tub. At night, we would just soak and drink fruity cocktails and listen to the sounds of the jungle.”

“OMG, I am so jealous.” Emily reconfigured her signature messy bun which had begun to list toward the side of her head. She was our resident hot mess mom and possessed no filter. “You deserved a break, Mags. I’m so glad you got it.”

“This…”—Astrid gestured with a piece of toast—“this is not the glow of a woman who had a restful trip. This is the kind of glow that can only result from multiple orgasms.”

Maggie blushed a deep crimson. Of our little coven, she was by far the most buttoned-up.

She was a nurse practitioner who ran her own practice and always tried to maintain a professional demeanor in public.

Luckily, she was friends with us, so we rarely let her get away without dishing up the details.

“Spill,” Emily yelled and Cece elbowed her. “Sorry,” she said, lowering her voice. “Ezra got hand, foot, and mouth last week and I didn’t leave the house. I’m starved for adult content.”

Violet nodded, sipping her coffee. “I have twin boys and live with my mother. Cal and I are constantly trying to schedule the sexy times. Spill, girl.”

Maggie pushed her hair behind her ears, her face still red. “It was really great,” she said. “We made up for lost time. Like a lot of lost time. In many places and positions. And I just feel…I don’t know…different.”

Cece put her arm around her sister and hugged her tight. Maggie’s eyes filled with tears. “I was so close to losing him, guys. I thought it was over. And now, I’m just so in love with my husband.”

We toasted to Maggie and Josh and their continued love, and I felt my cold, icy heart thaw a little. They had gone through hell, but they were back together and stronger than ever. And I was so thrilled for my friend.

It was in moments like this I worried I was missing something.

I wished I was a different kind of woman, the kind that could fall in love with an amazing guy who got me and live happily ever after.

But I knew better. I was in control of my destiny, and while my happy ending would look different from my friends’ endings, I’d earn it with hard work and determination. And that would be enough for me.