Page 12 of My Hexed Honeymoon

“Yeah.” Diego sets my luggage down with a thud, the quiet between us stretching out until our resounding awkwardness is all I can hear. “I, uh, didn’t think about that.”

We must be the only newlyweds in the world who’ve never had sex not to give any thought to racing into bed. I’m not exactly a virgin, but other than a few boys during college—the only freedom I’ve experienced in my life, and my mother took it away after a year—I’m certainly not very experienced, either.

Since it’s also been years, I might’ve forgotten how, but I’m pretty sure it doesn’t involve sitting in bed in my jammies eating cake. A fact that’s only causing more unshed tears to burn my eyes.

“You take the bed,” Diego says, raking fingers through his hair and leaving strands spiking up in different directions. “I’ll take the couch.”

I have the oddest urge to ease the tension from his brow, probably because he’s offered up the one thing I currently want most—to be in bed, all alone. With cake, as previously established.

Given how tidy the place is, he’s the type of guy to kick a gal out of bed for eating crackers, but what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. “Is it at least a pull-out couch?”

“Nah, I’ve never been a pull-out guy,” he says, and then the two of us freeze, making wide eyes at each other.

A nervous laugh sputters from my lips, breaking the tension a bit. “Guess that’ll solve our terms and conditions clause about having a baby.”

He gives a huffed sort of chuckle, both of us doing our best to find humor in this bizarre deal we’ve committed ourselves to.

I fiddle with my veil, ready to be rid of it after hours of holding tight. “Seriously, I appreciate it.”

He nods, and the unexpected kindness of letting me have his bed causes a lump in my throat. “It’s been a long day.”

“It has,” I agree, shuffling my feet. “I know that eventually, we’ll have to…” Heat creeps up my neck, and I really should’ve just gone with a simple “goodnight.”

“Yep, in between saving the supernatural world as we know it.” Diego’s already backpedaling toward the stairs, his shoulders and spine rigid. “While I understand we have a mutual obligation…”

Great, now we’ve gone from baby-making to mutual obligation. I can’t help the sour face I pull, and his expression curdles in return. So much for our momentary truce or understanding or whatever.

“What I mean to say,” Deigo grumbles, “is that right now we’re strangers. Let’s at least get to know each other a little first.”

“You think that’ll make it better?” I try to sound snarky and maybe even a tad hopeful and flirty, but I feel too raw, too vulnerable.

His lips twitch with a reluctant, slightly lopsided, almost smile. “Couldn’t hurt.”

I hug my arms around my middle and nod, unsure what else to do. It’s so weird to be so grateful to someone I was certain I loathed.

At the retreating of his footsteps down the staircase, I cross the room and flop down on the bed, the butterfly sleeves of my wedding dress billowing around me. I kick off my heels, glad to be done with them, the lacy, mud crusted skirt long enough to hide my battered feet. I debate falling back into the softness of the mattress, but the quieter the room, the louder my thoughts.

I have the strangest urge to call my husband back to me like a dog. Just a pat, pat to my thighs and a hollered-out “Come ‘ere boy!”

It’s not actually him I want, but rather more faith in me.

Since ignoring the mission that’s been unceremoniously dropped at my feet isn’t working, I squint my eyes and rub my temples. Pale moonlight filters in from the giant skylight above the bed, and the circulatory system of our universe shimmers into view.

I lift my fingers hesitantly, focusing on snatching up one of the threads to see if I can separate it from the rest.

Pressure builds in my head, my own blood vessels straining with effort. Electricity nips at my fingers, the woven golden fibers bulging like a swimmer breaching the tension of the water’s surface.

For an exhilarating second or two I think,holy shit, I can actually do this.

Letting my eyes go hazy, I peer into the glittering, fraying web, attempting to see that hollowed out between that I’ve been tasked with navigating.

Thensnap, they recoil and bite me, a rubber band pulled until it breaks.

Pain blooms through my skull and my vision goes piercingly white, causing my eyes to water and burn.

I wince, dropping my head into my hands. With a groan that can’t be helped, I attempt to massage out the throbbing ache that dipping my toe into that world between worlds left behind.

It’s like it doesn’t want me there.

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