Page 35 of Heal Me

Doogie watches me as I go through literally every item in my closet. For a second time. “I’m not sure why I haven’t said anything to her. Maybe it’s because this date has the potential to change our group dynamic.” Great, now I’m psyching myself out.

“Gabe and I have eaten plenty of meals together before,” I continue. “So why am I so nervous?” I finally decide on my long-sleeved black skater dress. It’s casual, but has floral-lace sleeves giving it a more formal feel than anything else I own. Fastening the straps on my sandals, I admire my DIY red pedicure from earlier.

Walking to the bathroom, I straighten my short bob and pin half of it back. I go with contacts tonight instead of my usual glasses. Fixing my makeup, I add some mascara and red lipstick. Growing up with a fair-skinned mother, my honey-colored skin got us more than a few curious stares, but now I appreciate my skin tone.

Soon I hear the doorbell and walk downstairs, those pesky butterflies fluttering in my stomach. Glancing through the peephole, I open the door for Gabe, who’s standing there looking amazing in a dark gray three-piece suit and his favorite purple tie. He has his dark hair slicked back this evening.

“Charlotte, you look so beautiful,” he says with a smile that makes my knees wobbly. He hands me a vase of flowers.

“Jasmine,” I say, taking a deep breath. “I love jasmine, thank you. That’s my middle name.” I set the flowers down on the coffee table, smiling at the synchronicity. “Doogie, don’t touch, please,” I tell my cat.

“He won’t,” Gabe says, scooping up my cat and giving him a snuggle, and doesn’t that just melt my heart—and my panties.

“Let me grab my purse and I’m ready. I assume we’re taking my car?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I’ll let you drive. I don’t know where this place is exactly,” I tell him.

Doogie hops down, and Gabe takes my hand as we walk to my car. I try to nonchalantly take a deep breath. Gabe doesn’t wear cologne, which is fine by me, as his natural scent is amazing—masculine with a sweet undertone. Or maybe that’s just him, masculine yet sweet.

Gabe is as courteous a driver as he is a person, but that doesn’t surprise me. We soon arrive at the restaurant, and he tosses my keys over to the valet. Entering the packed lobby, we bob and weave our way to the hostess booth. “Gabe Jennings, party of two.”

“Of course, Mr. Jennings, right this way.” The woman practically falls all over herself to help us.

“I didn’t realize what a big shot you are,” I whisper to him, teasing.

“Demigods are revered for a reason,” he reminds me and I discreetly give him a playful elbow.

Arriving at our table, Gabe pulls out my chair for me. A handsome gentleman with coffee-colored skin approaches. “Gabe, I’m so glad you’re finally joining us,” he says in a very prominent New York accent.

“Nicholas, so nice to see you. This is my date, Charlotte.”

“Charlotte, a pleasure. You two let me know if there’s anything I can do for you,” he says with a bow.

“Who was that?” I ask when the man is gone.

“Nicholas runs the restaurant. Super nice demon.”

“The rabbit hole is bottomless.”

“I’m sorry?”

I smile, shaking my head. “Nothing.”

“Shall I order us a bottle of wine?”

“That would be great.” Gabe orders a bottle of cabernet sauvignon, and after our server describes tonight’s menu, we order.

“Did you ladies have a good ritual the other night?” Gabe asks when it’s just the two of us.

“We did. The magic proved very powerful,” I say as I take a sip of wine and smile at how much healthier and happier I feel.

“I don’t know much about what witches do during a moon ritual.”

“I’m still learning myself. I would say it’s about group intention mixed with the right words and magic supplies.”

“So what was the intention this time?”

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