Page 92 of De-Witched

“I don’t know. But anyway, it’s a start and that’s not why I’m here.” Leah shook it off, determined to hang onto her happy feeling.

“Uh-huh. Can I guess from the fat cat expression someone got the cream last night?”

Leah let a beat pass. “That was weird.”

“Yeah, I regretted it the minute it was out.” Emma added ingredients to the shaker. “You want to wait for Tia?”

“I don’t mind bragging more than once.”

Emma’s eyebrows lifted. “That good?”

“You know how there’s sex and then there’s forget-your-own-name sex?”

Emma gave her a look.

“Right, your whole I-felt-engaged-so-stayed-true-to-Bastian thing.” Leah waved that off. “Trust me, not all guys get the job done, or they get the job done but it’s only so-so.”

“And Gabriel Goodnight got the job done?”

“Gabriel Goodnight crossed every t and dotted every i. The man believes in thorough attention to detail. God bless him for it.” Leah brushed her nails against her chest, studied them. Then ruined it by dancing in her seat like a child. She sighed, plonking an elbow on the bar and resting her chin on it. “You think it’s the warlock factor?”

“Leah.”

“Nobody’s listening.”

Emma shot her a pained glance and topped the shaker, lifted it. The ingredients rattled as she began to shake. “Well, again, you’re asking the wrong person. Tia would be best.”

“Best for what?” Dressed in a red power suit with sharp stilettos that clicked across the wooden floor, Tia emerged from the back, Chester at her heels. She carried a rosebud, which she handed to Emma. “From Bastian. He says not to forget your date tonight.”

Emma’s engagement ring winked as she took the flower, smiling dreamily as her magic unfurled the rose petals.

Tia’s eye roll said everything. She unbuttoned her jacket, displaying a white silk camisole, and leaned a hip on the counter, oblivious to the stares she was getting from their male patrons. “So, Bastian said it was girl time. Did it not go well?” She reached over, patted Leah’s upper arm. “Disappointment, was he? I knew it. He’s too stiff to be good in bed.” She made a gesture. “And not in the hot way.”

“Wrong.” Emma set the rose down, poured out the drinks, slid one over to Tia. “Apparently Gabriel Goodnight should be called Gabriel Wildnight.”

Leah wiggled her eyebrows as she picked up her glass.

Tia’s jaw dropped. “Get out. That broomstick?”

Witch slang, Leah presumed. She debated what to tell them, settled for a tantalizing detail. “He ripped my dress in two.”

No two people had ever looked as dumbfounded as her friends in that moment. Leah could’ve said she’d discovered she could do magic for all their shock.

Tia recovered first. “Well.” She picked up her glass, shot it back. “I hate to say it, but good for Goodnight.”

“One ripped dress and you approve?” Emma demanded. “Bastian had to work for it.”

Tia shrugged, twirling her empty glass. “I don’t approve, but it’s got a shelf life—unlike your situation with Bastian had. At least this will all be over in a month.”

The reminder threatened to pop her happiness balloon but Leah breezed determinedly past it. “So, you’re happy for me?”

“You’re human and sleeping with a warlock who could find out you know his secret at any time.” Tia gave her a get-real look. “I’m not happy, but if I learned anything from Emma, you’re all going to make mistakes and I just have to be here to pick up the pieces.”

“Such a saint,” Emma put in.

“I know, right?”

“Ah, about that,” Leah interrupted before she lost her nerve. She sipped her cocktail, let the alcohol warm her belly. Give her the courage to get out the words. “He maybe, kinda, already sorta...knows.”

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