Page 29 of Bewitched & Bewildered
I guess that’s one thing we can do better than him.
This feels too much like when we were young, always neck-in-neck with our studies, and the class president debates, and …there’s a lot more, but who cares?
I’m an adult now. He shouldn’t be able to rattle me like this.
“That was definitely someone,” she says. “A whole lot of someone, if you know what I mean.”
“Laurel!”
“You can’t lie to me.”
“Fine.” My jaw tenses. “He’s someone I knew in high school. Is that the answer you’re looking for?”
“Ah… I see.” Her smile is full of mirth. “I know who he is. You don’t have to tell me.”
I groan and open my car door. “Then why are you asking me silly questions?”
“Because he’s the one from the reading!”
I stare at her with wide eyes until she disappears into the car. I scurry to get inside. “He is not.”
“Oh, yes, he is!”
“That man is the bane of my existence. He may be returning from the past, but it’s not in a-a-a… not in a six of cups way.”
“But you admit you have history.”
“Yes, but?—”
“The cards never lie.”
“They do,” I say. “That’s one of Mom’s first lessons. We can interpret things wrong, or the timing can be incorrect, or?—”
“Fine. Witches can make mistakes. That’s true. This isn’t one of those times. Mark my words. That man is the six of cups.”
“No. That’s impossible. You don’t understand?—”
“He gave you those flowers, didn’t he? That’s the most literal depiction of the six of cups.”
“Enough!” I lift a hand. “I’m setting a boundary. We are not talking about Ozan anymore.”
“Is that his name?” She gasps. “Ozan! Oh, I am totally doing a wax-scrying spell tonight.”
“You had better not. I don’t consent.”
“But Juniper! Wax scrying for your futurespouse issoromantic.”
Thinking about Ozan being myfuture spousemakes me sick to my stomach.
“No. No way,” I say. “I’m not dating right now—and if I were, I would not be datinghim.”
I once thought love was for me—before countless breakups, being ghosted on dating apps, and…gods. It’s certainly not for me now. It can’t be. I have a shop to run and sisters to care for.
It’s the same reason Mom never dated after our father left, and it’s the rule I’m sticking to.
“Fine.” Laurel pouts. “I won’t do anything without your permission, but…”
“There are no buts.”
