Page 72 of Bewitched & Bewildered
Juniper’s pink cheeks turn red. “It’s not like that!” she blurts.
I can’t even be offended. I don’t have any younger siblings, but I wouldn’t want them to know about my love life if I did.
Laurel leans on the wall. That’s the first giveaway that she’s drunk. The next is her lifting her cocktail to her lips and taking several moments to get the straw in her mouth.
She takes an unnecessarily long drink.
“Juniper was doing me a favor,” I say.
“Oh, I bet she was,” Laurel says. “Looks like you’re going to be doing alotof favors later, if you know what I mean.”
I chuckle nervously. “I really don’t…”
Juniper shifts—it’s one I recognize. The fun, sweet, soft, kissable Juniper is gone. Her hands are on her hips, her eyes narrow, and I know she’s about to lecture someone.
On second thought, she’s equally kissable like this. I want to kiss the scowl right off her mouth.
For once, she won’t be lecturing me. I may enjoy this.
“Are you drunk?” Juniper asks.
Laurel shrugs. “It’s a party. Everyone is drinking; you’re drinking!”
“Laurel…”
Laurel tears up before Juniper can begin her lecture. Her lower lip trembles.
“Don’t,” Laurel mumbles. She tries to set her cup down and knocks it over in the process. If the liquid spilling bothers her, she doesn’t let it show. “Don’t act like Mom. You’re not my mom.”
“I’m not—” Juniper shoots me an apologetic look. “Sorry. This was… fun… but I have to go deal with her.”
“Deal with me?” Laurel wails.
Juniper winces. “That’s not what I meant.”
“It’s fine,” I murmur. “I get it.”
This is a reminder of how much the Hawthornes are going through. From the outside, they are perfectly fine. They’re working together and focusing on their shop.
But they’re not okay. Why would they be? They lost their mother. Losing the head woman is a big deal in any family, but in a family of witches, it’s huge.
Laurel stumbles through the party but only takes a few steps before falling to the floor.
Juniper pulls away to follow her, but I touch her arm. She stops.
“You didn’t bring your car,” I say.
“I can drive Laurel’s.”
“No. Let me help you get her home.”
Juniper’s brows furrow. “You don’t want to do that.”
“Yes,” I say, “I do.”
Our eyes lock. Neither of us speaks for several moments. The only thing I hear is the Monster Mash playing in the background.
“Okay,” Juniper says, so low I nearly miss it. “If you’re sure.”
