Page 43 of Extra Witchy

“Really matter to me? Of course you do. I mean, I won’t lie, it is convenient that you’re always willing to help, but you’re a hell of a lot more than my odd-jobs guy. You’re my best friend. I thought youknewthat.”

He didn’t know how he was supposed to feel, but simultaneously pleased and chastened about covered it. “Apparently not?”

In the background, Trev heard a relentless beeping. Titus swore. “I have to take these trays out of the oven, but we’re absolutely talking more about this later. Oh, and Trev?”

“Yeah?” he asked warily.

“Congratulations, you reckless, secretive son of a bitch.”

“I have some serious amends to make, huh?”

“You think? I’ll let you decide how to go about it.” With that, Titus hung up.

A few days passed with Trev feeling guilty about how he’d treated Titus, and he struggled with the realization that maybe the way he viewed himself didn’t match up to the way others did.I matter after all.He buried his remorse by looking after Leanne, and that night, she showed her gratitude in the hottest possible way.

As she rose and fell on him, her phone buzzed.Leave it, he almost shouted, but she grabbed it and swore. “Sorry, sweetheart. This is a book club emergency.”

“Are you serious?” he groaned.

Leanne leaned down, kissing him on the nose. “Keep it warm for me. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

It was fucking impossible to wait, so he cranked one out on his own, mildly alarmed by the secrets she seemed to be keeping.What kind of book club requires its members to rush out in the middle of sex?Maybe he didn’t want to join after all. More worrying, those secrets might hurt her chances in the election.

Is that why she needed to distract voters by getting married? What the hell is up?

When she returned, she didn’t offer to explain, and he feared pissing her off, so he pretended not to be curious about the parts of her life that didn’t include him.I need to find my own thing.

The silence and the secrecy bothered him, though. How could it not? Some days Trev did feel more like an employee who occasionally fucked his boss, and that…didn’t feel awesome.

But he pushed down those misgivings as they fell into a comfortable routine—maybe not the passion and excitement one would expect from newlyweds, but their relationship was atypical. And, as promised, she got him on her insurance with a pledge to keep paying it even after she switched over to COBRA.

Junie dropped by on Leanne’s last day of work, and Trev gave her a framed wedding photo, feeling like he was supplying a consolation prize.Sorry your relationship with Leanne is terrible. Have this fine framed memento instead of personal interaction.

With tearful eyes, Junie touched the glass. “She looks so beautiful. I wish I could’ve been there. You know I haven’t been to even one of her weddings? The first one, I was traveling in Peru, and I didn’t get the message until it was far too late. The next time, she got married on a cruise. This time—”

“We eloped to Vegas.”

“How was it? Tell me everything.”

Feeling like an absolute tool, Trev did because his mother-in-law looked so pitiful that he couldn’t bring himself to be harsh with her again. He spent over an hour sharing the experience and showing her the photos he’d snapped at the various places. Buying rings, picking out the suit, the hotel lobby, the city skyline, and the wedding chapel.

“I can’t really think of anything else,” he said eventually.

“This is perfect. I feel like I was there.” Impulsively, Junie hugged him. “I’m glad you’re my son-in-law.”

That made him feel shitty when their marriage was primarily for show. With Leanne’s city council election campaign kicking off, he lacked the time to dwell on it, though. Trev stayed busy ordering stuff for her; communicating with online vendors; and getting hats, signs, stickers, banners, and posters printed up. As suggested, Leanne rounded up volunteers from the coffee klatch, and Howard Carruthers agreed to let her use the space over the hardware store. It was supposed to be a suite of offices, but he’d had a hard time keeping it rented since the lawyer who used to occupy it left St. Claire. Trev felt incredibly out of place among the retirees and housewives who mostly made up the volunteers willing to devote their precious time to getting Leanne elected to city council.

But nobody commented on his joblessness, and he ended up partnered with Mrs. Carmenian for the canvassing. She went right in for the gossip. “What’s this I hear about you two getting married on the sly? Do you have baby news to share, hmm?”

He stopped walking and almost dropped the bag of election paraphernalia he was holding. “Uh, yeah, we did get married. And no, nothing like that.”

It always suffused him with pride when he saw Leanne’s whole name on the promotional materials—Leanne Vanderpol-Montgomery. Though it made no sense, he felt like a piece of him went with her because she’d chosen his name. He hadn’t told her yet, but he’d quietly decided to take her name too. God, the old man would hate it. That was reason enough to make the change, but he suspected it would also make Leanne happy.

“Well, that’s disappointing. Why did you sneak off, then?”

“I’m not sure what you’re hoping to hear,” he said, as they walked toward the next house in their zone. “There’s no scandal. Why spend twenty grand when you can do it for a few hundred and enjoy a honeymoon in Vegas after?”

Mrs. Carmenian put a hand on her well-padded hip. “When you put it that way, it sounds entirely reasonable. And you don’t have to listen to your families fighting over who sits where and how many vegan entrées are needed.”

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