I shake my head, juggling the bulky bag against my hip. “Trust me, you do not want to eat these groceries. I had to run an errand for my boss.”
“Not more of this witchcraft crap, is it?” Nick peeks into the top of the bag. “Good god, what the fuck is that?”
I peer in after him. “The horse scrotum, the dried crab eyes, or something else?”
Diego just laughs. “They really think they’re witches?”
“They really, really do.” I’m starting to wonder myself, given everything that’s happened in the last twenty-four hours. “But they’re nice people and the pay is excellent.”
Nick picks up one of the small plastic bags—dried gecko tails—and stares at the contents. With a shudder, he puts it back. “I’m a little worried for you, Reg. Maybe you should quit. If they’re crazy enough to be lying about being witches, they’re crazy enough to be lying about the money, too. I don’t feel like you’re safe.”
“It’s fine,” I promise him, and change my voice to teasing. “You don’t really want me back anyhow.”
Instead of protesting heavily, Nick just glances at Diego, and they share a secret smile. My heart sinks at that. Now that Nick’s love interest is returning his affection, a roommate would just get in the way. I’m happy for him, but a little sad for me. It feels a bit like I don’t have anywhere to go except to live with some crazy wannabe witches. “Of course I want you back,” Nick finally says, slinging his arm over my shoulders. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Oh please, we all know the truth here.” I roll my eyes, smiling despite the hollow ache in my chest. “Are we going to play cards or not?”
Nick’s eyes light up. He likes the game Spellcraft as much as I do. “A small change tonight, though. I thought we’d skip heading down to the card shop and play up here instead. Just us . . . and Diego.”
“Sounds great.” Because what else can I say?
* * *
AFTER A FEW hours, it becomes obvious that Nick’s attention isn’t on Spellcraft: The Magicking. He walks Diego through the complex rules, then sits next to him, his chin on Diego’s broad shoulder, helping him with his cards. I’m the opponent, and even though I win each round, it’s a hollow victory when the person you’re playing against doesn’t know how to play properly. I like a challenge, and Diego and Nick are so wrapped up in each other that it’s easy to see that I’m overstaying my welcome.
Even though Nick and I normally play cards until well past midnight, I affect a yawn shortly after ten and make my excuses. I’d been planning on staying in my old room tonight, just crashing out after a satisfying evening of cards and friendship, but it’s pretty clear that Diego is also staying the night, and I don’t want to be around to hear everything. I pack up my cards, hug my friend and his new boyfriend, and then get into my Uber with the bag of spell components.
I’m almost relieved to return to Dru’s place.
The moment I step inside the kitchen, however, I nearly turn and run right back out again. Ben Magnus is at the kitchen table, his long legs sprawled out under the furniture. A wealth of paper and notebooks are spread out before him. He looks up when I enter, one black lock of hair dropping over his forehead, and his dark eyes study me. “Date night?” he asks, his voice low and sinful and as attractive as he is obnoxious . . . which is pretty obnoxious.
I force a light shrug, even though that lonely hole inside me feels like it’s yawning wider by the moment. “I could ask the same of you. Hot Friday night?”
To my surprise, he chuckles. Ben leans back in his chair and scrubs a hand over his face. “My aunt mentioned earlier today she hasn’t done her taxes in quite some time. I’m trying to get things together to send to my accountant, hoping he can stem the damage.”
Yeah, I knew that. I give him a faint smile. “Ouch.”
A weird silence falls between us. It’s not quite comfortable, as if we’re both suddenly remembering that he’s been trying to get me fired. I avert my gaze because it feels like too much to look at him. He’s too much. Too much everything.
“Your boyfriend dropped you off at the curb? It’s late. He should have at least seen you to the door.”
I think about Nick and Diego, and how they were all over each other all night in subtle ways. It simultaneously made me happy for Nick, a little jealous, and a lot lonely. “I took an Uber here, thank you very much.”
“You could have asked me for a ride,” Ben suddenly volunteers.
I glance over at him, surprised. He looks uncomfortable, the expression on his face slightly challenging, as if daring me to mock him. An awkward silence falls. I unpack some of the goods I picked up for Dru, hesitating. I don’t know why I’m lingering in the kitchen. I should hurry up to my room, pull the covers over my head, and forget this awful day just happened. I don’t want to feel jealous or miserable just because Nick is happy—I want to be happy for him. But that loneliness keeps building inside me, and I can’t bring myself to leave the kitchen, even if it’s Ben Magnus sitting a few feet away, doing Dru’s taxes on a Friday night instead of whatever it is he normally does. I finger one of the small envelopes Penny packed away earlier, idly sorting them alphabetically as thoughts race through my mind.
What if Nick is right? What if they’re lying to me about the job and there’s no money? If they’re lying about witchcraft—or delusional enough to think they’re really casting spells—how do I know this is legit? I gnaw on my lower lip, thinking.
“Spit it out,” Ben says.
I carefully slide a packet of “Roots from Sage Plant Harvested at Midnight” under the packet of “Pearl, Dissolved.” Or should it be under S for “sage”?
“Spit what out?”
“Whatever’s bothering you. That look on your face.” He gets to his feet, and as he unfolds, I’m reminded just how very tall and menacing Ben Magnus is. He’s wearing all black again today—I’m not sure if the man owns clothing in another color—and he crosses the kitchen to come and stand directly in front of me, as if that will somehow force me to answer.
I school my features into a mask of neutrality. “What look on my face?”
“Like something is bothering you deeply. Spit it out. I assure you, I am impossible to offend.”
Somehow I doubt that. I nudge the packets again, forcing my gaze back to them instead of looking at my boss’s nephew, who’s much taller standing next to me than I remember, and who smells quite nice . . . for an ass who thinks he’s a wizard. “I just . . .”
“Just?” he prompts, reaching over and pushing the packets out of my reach as I obsessively organize them.
I turn and scowl at him, because now he’s gone from being slightly pushy to really pushy. I rest my hand on the counter, my other on my hip, and give him a defiant look. “Just tell me if this is real, all right? If it’s all one big joke, it’s past time to let me in on it. I don’t like people laughing at me behind my back, so just tell me, okay? Is this real?”
“Is what real?”
I wave a hand in the air. “All this magic crapola you two are constantly spouting. I went to a magic store today, and she believed in this nonsense, too, and it’s starting to get to me.”
“It’s real,” Ben says, voice solemn.
I roll my eyes. “Of course you’d say that. I don’t know why I asked—”
He leans forward, just slightly, his gaze meeting mine. “I wouldn’t lie to you, Reggie.”