“Like the song?” Pansy asked with a slow blink that made her look like a baby deer.
Ugh. Why?
“If I let you stay at our place, Mom will be hurt,” Clem said flatly.
“It’s childish of Allegra to ask you to take sides,” Gram put in, like she didn’t do the same thing constantly where Danica was concerned, as if she wasn’t taking Barnabas’s side over her own daughter at this moment.
Goddess, I’m so done with everyone.
“Telling everyone to make their own housing arrangements is hardly playing favorites,” she snapped.
A headache started behind her eyes, throbbing at her temples and tightening around the back of her head. She recognized the symptoms—tension and repressed rage, manifesting as pain. In this moment, she just wanted—
Gavin.
Oh no.
But she couldn’t dispel the mental picture of how comforting it would be to nestle into his chest and whisper, “Make them all go away.” He’d do it too. Despite how gentle he was with her, she sensed he’d tolerate no nonsense that disturbed her. He might be British like her father, but they had nothing else in common.
Pansy put a gentle hand on Barnabas’s arm. “If you don’t mind, I’d rather stay at an Airbnb or a hotel. Right now, I’m a stranger to Clem, and I want us to start off on the right foot.”
Most of her stepmothers had been more like the ones from the worst fairy tales. It figured that Barnabas had snagged someone genuinely nice this time, who might be wrecked when he cheated. Clem would never understand why he bothered getting married when his inclinations were so clearly polyamorous, but she suspected he wouldn’t enjoy sharing his partner with other people; he just wanted to get more than he gave. Maybe that was even part of the fun, the addictive thrill of sneaking around and feeling like he was getting away with—
Shit.
Clem realized she was intimately familiar with that sensation. That described the rush she got from playing with Gavin precisely. Sickness turned her insides upside down, leaving her a trembling mess.
I need them to go before they notice.
Dammit, I don’t want to have anything in common with Barnabas.
On some level, perhaps she’d sensed this flaw in her own makeup, and that was why she preferred her relationships brief and light. Better not to commit than to make promises she couldn’t keep.
Fucking hell.
The long silence built until Gram finally said, “You’re kind to make allowances for Clem. She’s always been a bit stubborn and temperamental.”
Okay, that’s it.
“This has been all kinds of fun,” she said, “but I have work to do.”
“We must get together for a meal,” Barnabas said.
She had zero desire to do that, but if it would get them out of here… “Sounds good. Send me a message.”
“You blocked me!”
“Email me, then.” Clem refused to let his complaint get any traction.
Gram made that scolding noise Clem hated. “Clementine Odette, that’s reprehensible. Whatever issues Barnabas has with your mother, he’s still your biological father. And I’ve long said that her relationship with Dougal crossed certain lines long before they officially—”
“Get. Out,” she gritted through clenched teeth.
Pansy seemed like a natural peacemaker, tugging Barnabas toward the door.
Even Gram must have realized it would be highly unwise to linger, because she murmured a farewell and hurried out. Clem sucked in a shuddering breath, white-knuckling the counter with all her strength. Her magic surged, creating a wave that powered up all the machines on display out front. Blenders whirred, a waffle iron clanged, and an old iPod blasted “Breakin’ Dishes” by Rihanna while the dial on a radio across the room spun wildly. It took all her focus to shut each one down before someone noticed the gadgets going haywire.
Forcing the magical focus helped a little, though her head still hurt like a bitch. And of course, fifteen minutes later, Danica finally showed up to relieve her, but she was a damn mess.