“Congratulations!” Danica said.
The others echoed the sentiment, and Clem hugged Margie. When things quieted a bit, Kerry said, “They garnished the asshole’s wages, didn’t they?”
Margie grinned. “He finally took a job where that was possible. He’s been working off the books, so I couldn’t ‘get my hands on his money,’ but I guess those jobs are harder to find these days.”
“I will never understand,” Ethel said. “Doesn’t that fool realize the money is for his child? You didn’t make that baby alone.”
Priya and Kerry swapped looks, and then Priya said, “One, we’re breaking our rules about not talking about men the whole time. It counts even if you’re complaining and not gushing over them. Two, we have news too!”
Leaning over, Kerry kissed Priya on the cheek. “That we do. I sold my house, and I’m moving in with Priya.”
After another round of congrats and hugs, Leanne said, “Time to open that big box of wine!”
She poured for everyone, and they did a toast—to Danica’s potential rebound fling, the end of Margie’s money woes, and Kerry’s cohabitation with Priya. They drank quite a bit, ate even more, and eventually got around to talking about books.
First, they discussed the one they had agreed to read as a group and then, as usual, ended with recommendations of what they had been enjoying separately. Danica couldn’t shut up about Empire of Sand by Tasha Suri, and she got recs for authors she’d never tried. Most of them bought books on their phones as the recommendations piled up, and Ethel wrote the titles down to look for them at the library.
“Does anyone need help with a ritual?” Clem asked.
Everyone shook their heads—a quiet meeting then, witchery-wise.
“Is everything set for Lughnasadh?” Danica asked Ethel, who was organizing the rite along with Gram and Gladys.
“All good. This isn’t my first rodeo,” the older witch assured her.
“Damn, it’s past eleven. I should get home. Chris will be wondering where I am.” Margie got up, and her move signaled everyone else.
Vanessa and Kerry had stopped drinking a while ago so they could drive. Danica walked the guests to the door; Clem just waved as she started tidying up. But the minute Danica closed the door, her cousin put the plates down and folded her arms, wearing the sternest look ever.
“Are you out of your mind? Gram’s here. It’s not a matter of us keeping your secret. The minute you fool around with a mundane, she’ll find out. And we’ll never hear the end of it. Is a bit of fun really worth so much drama?”
***
After the pizza feast, Titus watched Thor: Ragnarok with Maya.
Though their movie tastes didn’t always overlap, they agreed that this one was sheer perfection, and they owned it because they tended to watch it whenever one of them was bummed or had had a shitty day. The news from Dad qualified on both counts.
“Thanks,” Maya said, as the credits ran. She got up and hugged him. “I’m going to play some Sims before bed.”
“Night, Mini.”
“Don’t call me that.” But she didn’t sound as grumpy about the nickname as she had been twenty years ago.
Normally, he’d get ready for bed at this hour since he had to be up early. He had played fetch with Doris and then taken her for a run before making pizza with Maya. Now, Doris was snoring, sprawled out on her bed in front of the fireplace. In July, there was no fire burning, but the dog loved that spot best because she could see all through the house, the best vantage for guarding. All told, it had been a full day, but he still needed to bake something special for lunch tomorrow. He wouldn’t have time in the morning.
But what would suit Danica’s tastes? She liked turkey sandwiches, apples, and strange juice combinations. That wasn’t a deep profile to design the perfect dessert. A tart of some kind would be best, and I have Fuji apples… Without pondering too much, he pulled puff pastry sheets from the freezer, made fresh last week, and put together some beautiful apple date tarts that he rolled to look like roses; they came out gorgeous, all pink and gold. These were best eaten fresh, but they would still be delicious tomorrow at lunch.
After packing the tarts, he whistled for Doris. “Outside!”
He rapped on the back door, and she raced through the house into the backyard, which was fenced. A pet door let Doris come and go as she pleased, but Titus made her pee before going to bed. He stepped onto the back patio to wait for her to finish sniffing everything and do her business. When she trotted back, he rubbed her head and gave her a cookie.
“Good girl. Ready for bed?”
Doris cocked her head and then followed him into the kitchen. As he went, he switched off lights and made sure the front door was locked; then he headed to his room. Doris took up most of his queen-size bed because she sprawled. Sometimes she’d go sideways across the mattress and kick him with her back paws like he should find somewhere else to sleep.
Living with Maya meant that he never invited anyone to spend the night; hell, he’d never slept with anyone before. It always went catastrophically wrong before he sealed the deal. So not only was he a virgin, even if by some miracle he got to that point with Danica, Doris would fight about yielding her spot in the bed.
“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” he told his reflection as he brushed his teeth.
Titus had the master bedroom along with a private bath—not a big one, and there was only a shower stall. Maya had the bigger bath, a Jack and Jill design that gave equal access from both her room and the guest bedroom. Typically, he didn’t go in there, and he didn’t touch her stuff. They’d argued a fair amount when they were kids, but these days, they shared the house well and seldom bickered about the chores. Maya had written up a rotating schedule, and as long as they stuck to it, there was no question of whose turn it was to do something.
He got in bed and checked the alarm on his phone. All set. On impulse, he opened the messaging app, though he knew Danica hadn’t contacted him. Technically, it was her turn, but since she’d taken the initiative about lunch, maybe he could relax the rigid rules he had been following in regard to not contacting her too much or too often, not spamming her with stuff when she was busy or disinclined to chat.
Looking forward to tomorrow. Night! He added a smile emoji, wishing he had the nerve to use the heart-eyes one, but that was too soon. Is it normal to worry about this stuff too much? It’s not like an emoji is a marriage proposal. Too bad his past relationships hadn’t ended with exit interviews. Before you go, Titus might’ve asked, can I ask precisely how I drove you away? I’ll take notes.
Since getting up early was exhausting—and it was later than usual—he fell asleep without trouble. Doris woke him with a lick on the forehead two minutes before his alarm went off. Really, it was amazing how well the dog could tell time, considering that dogs couldn’t tell time. Or can they? Maybe I should Google it.