Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
I convince myself I am not anxious and slightly neurotic because I’m keen to see him again, but because I’m concerned about being found out by the authorities.
My mum has already sent me three different messages with details of the weekend away, and my younger sister, my aunt, and my cousin have all messaged to say they’re looking forward to meeting my new man.
There is no backing out now. I’m going to have to forgo the risks, pluck up my courage, and ask Horatio to join me.
I considered asking Damien to do that whole demonic influencing act to ensure Horatio would agree to being my fake boyfriend for the weekend, but I’ve already bewitched the man’s brain enough. Who knows what could happen if I tampered with it any more?
No, I am going to have to use good old charm. After all, it worked for him – convincing me to send him those dirty selfies. My cheeks flame at the thought.
To distract myself from the even bigger mess I have found myself in, I could throw myself into work. I have orders to update, potions to begin, and ingredients to restock.
Instead, I embark on some stress baking and, as the temperature in London is once again boiling, I’m back down to my underwear. So far I’ve baked a batch of cookies, a sponge cake, some cheese scones, and a peach cobbler.
By 10pm, my baking creations are spread out along the countertop and I am running out of space.
McGruff is circling my feet on the lookout for any dropped crumbs and I’m contemplating what to bake next when I hear a familiar sound of heavy footsteps striding across the shared hallway.
I tiptoe to my door, peering through the keyhole and watching as Mr Hottie unlocks his door and disappears inside his flat without a backward glance at mine.
Maybe he’s had second thoughts about the whole thing. Maybe the effects of the potion have worn off and he doesn’t even remember my name. Maybe he met the actual love of his life on the way home from work this evening and they’re already planning their wedding.
Perhaps I am losing my marbles. I slump over to the counter and tear off a large corner from one of the brownies, stuffing it into my mouth.
McGruff whines at me.
“Don’t,” I tell him, “these will literally kill you and,” I point towards the corner of the room, “you have a bowl full of perfectly good dog food over there.”
McGruff huffs in disgust and retreats back to his spot on the sofa.
I glance towards the oven, then the sofa, and then the front door.
I could mope about like Cinderella waiting for my prince to arrive with a lost shoe, or I could grow some ovaries, remember that this is the twenty-first century, and take matters into my own hands.
I trot into my bedroom, find the T-shirt dress I was wearing earlier, tug it over my head and stride across the hallway, knocking on the door before I have time to change my mind.
In doing so I realise, I’ve never actually been inside his flat. It’s always been him stomping over to my door with his latest list of complaints.
I also realise it’s past ten o’clock, which is pretty late to be knocking on his door.
There’s no turning back now though, because the door swings open and he’s standing in the doorway, looking breathtaking as usual, especially as he’s lost his jacket and tie, has undone the first few buttons of his shirt, and rolled up his sleeves.
He’s also standing in his socks, with a bottle of beer in his hand.
Beyond him I catch a glimpse of his flat – all shiny and modern looking.
“Hey,” I say, “I’m sorry to disturb you at this late hour, Mr Shaw, but I am in need of your help.”
He cocks an eyebrow. “You are, heh? I’ve had an extraordinarily shit day, but I think it’s about to get better.”
I take his hand in mine and drag him across the hallway into my flat.
“I may have overdone it in the baking department and I need your help to eat these.”
“Woah,” he says, surveying the array of baked goods, “are you applying to be on the Bake Off or something?”
“No, I was feeling a little stressed and baking helps. What would you like? Brownie?” I lift the plate in his direction.
“I’d rather eat something else,” he growls, gaze running down my form and I realise several of my earlier worries were totally unfounded. That only leaves all the others!
“Brownie,” I tell him. “I think we’ve pushed the boundaries of the no-intimacy rule far enough already.”
He chuckles and picks a brownie from the plate. He lifts it to his mouth, then stops abruptly and examines the chocolate sponge. “Is this a normal brownie or have you bewitched it? Am I going to grow tentacles or something?”
“Now, that’s an idea,” I say. “Tentacles are kind of hot.”
“They are?” he asks, looking unconvinced.
I nod. “I once dated a merman and the things that man could do with his tentacles …”
“I thought merpeople were half-fish,” he says, with a sulk and what may be a little bit of jealousy.
I smack him on the arm. “I’m joking. I’ve only ever dated witching folk before. I’ve never dated a merman – imagine the practicalities.”
“You’ve never dated a … civilian before?” He takes a bite of the brownie, then another. “Jeez, this is good.”
“Thank you and, no, never a civvie.”
“Then I’m your first.” He finishes the brownie and brushes the crumbs from his fingers.
“We’re not dating,” I tell him.
“I suppose not. What are we doing then?”
“We’re having a situation.”
He laughs. “I missed you today, Molly.”
I tuck a loose lock of hair behind my ear and because I’m hopeless at lying, I tell him, “I think I may have missed you too. Yesterday was a lot of fun.”
He steps towards me with that look and I’m pretty certain he’s going to kiss me again.
I thrust the plate of scones between us. “Scone?”
“I’m full.” He pats his belly.
“Uh uh, you have to eat some more. Look at all of this.”
I sweep my arm across all the baking creations.
“You must really have been stressed.” He leans against my counter and takes a swig of his beer. I have to admit, he vastly improves the aesthetic appearance of my kitchen.
“Yep,” I admit, “pretty stressed to be honest.”
“Is it this reversal potion?” he asks, offering me his bottle of beer.
“Not exactly.” I take the bottle from him and have a swig of my own. “And actually, I may have invited you round on false pretences.”
“Not to eat brownies?”
I shake my head.
“If it’s to get me naked, I don’t mind.” He takes the bottle back from me, our fingers brushing together for a moment and something very close to magic seeming to spark between us.
I sigh. The man does look very good naked and I haven’t even seen everything.
“I need to ask you a favour.” I cringe. This is so embarrassing, but at least the man is under the effects of a love potion. He’d probably think the sun shines out of my arse, even if I was boiling kittens and puppies and eating them.
“Ask away,” he says, draining his beer bottle.
“My family are having this gathering this weekend and originally I wasn’t invited.”
“Why not?” He frowns.
“It was couples only.”
“That’s shit.”
“Yeah, but that’s sort of how my family operates. To be fair to them, they thought it would be awkward for me or something.”
“Hmmm,” he says. He strokes his chin and his lips gradually curve up into a smile. “We aren’t dating.”
“Yes, I know that. But my sister – the one you met on Saturday – told everyone that we are and so then I got an invitation to this gathering.”
“And you wanna go – even though they didn’t invite you in the first place?”
“That’s kinda why I do want to go,” I mumble.
“So what exactly are you asking me here, Molly?”
“That you’ll agree to come with me to this gathering this weekend and pretend to be my boyfriend,” I blurt out, offering him another brownie in the hopes of softening the blow.
He takes the brownie and bites into it, chewing as he considers me and his answer.
“Okay,” he says, and my shoulders sag with relief, “I can pretend to be your boyfriend for a couple of hours.”
“Ahhh,” I say.
He lowers the brownie from his mouth. “What?”
“It’s not really a couple of hours kind of gathering. It’s actually the entire weekend. Friday to Sunday.”
He places the rest of the brownie into his mouth, once again chewing as he weighs up his response.
“So let me get this right,” he says finally, “first you poison me with a love potion–”
“–bewitch,” I correct, “technically I didn’t poison you.”
“Semantics,” he says, “and now you want me to spend the entirety of my next weekend pretending to be your boyfriend and lying to a bunch of strangers?”
I gulp. “In a nutshell, yes,” I say, wishing the earth would swallow me up or hoping this would be the moment I got picked for an alien abduction. Honestly, how has this become my life?
“And what’s in it for me?” he asks.
“My delightful company for the weekend?” I suggest.
“I can think of something else I’d prefer,” he says, eyes darkening.
“Nope,” I say, shaking my head. “Yesterday was fun and I enjoyed it–”
“But?” he says, frowning.
“But this situation is already complicated enough, we don’t want to make it any worse.”
“Says the woman who wants me to pretend to be her boyfriend.”
“Yeah, I know, I’m kinda fucked up. Which is definitely why you don’t want to sleep with me and end up permanently in love with me.” He stares at me for five whole seconds, eyes wide. “I mean, that’s what will happen if I can’t reverse the potion.”
“Right,” he says, rubbing his hand though his hair, “and you truly believe that’s a risk?”
“Yes,” I say, plus the risk my crimes are discovered. Plus the risk my family finally disowns me. Plus the risk I fall head over heels in love with him too.
“Molly, why didn’t you tell your family the truth? Why not tell them your sister was wrong and I’m not your boyfriend?”
“Ahhh.” I jump up onto the counter, hands tucked beneath my thighs. “My mum’s whole mission in life is to see her three daughters paired up and producing babies.”
“Isn’t that a little dated way of thinking?”
“Yep. But our witching powers are inherited through the female line so it’s important, not just to her, but the wider family. My mum was the only one of her sisters to have girls. If we don’t have girls then the magic fizzles out.”
“I still don’t see why you couldn’t tell her the truth,” he says with a disapproving frown.
“You haven’t met my mum! Every time I see her she’s quizzing me about my love life or trying to set me up on a date. And when Prim told her you were my boyfriend for once … I don’t know.” I peer down at my lap. “She seemed sort of proud of me.”
“She’s not usually proud?” he asks softly.
I laugh bitterly and look up, meeting those sky-blue eyes. “I’m brewing potions illegally and barely making enough to scrape by.”
“Barely making enough?” he repeats in alarm.
“I don’t own a Ferrari, Horatio,” I point out.
“But you do live in this flat, here in Heatherley Court.”
“I inherited it from my aunt,” I explain. “Most months I’m struggling to pay the gas bill. This month things were actually looking up. Someone posted a rave review about my potions online and orders have been soaring. Then the cauldron exploded and … well, you know the rest.”
“I feel responsible for the explosion,” he says. “I interrupted you.”
I wave my hand through the air. “It wasn’t your fault. I should have been paying better attention.”
I pick up one of the scones and start pulling it apart with my fingers. It hasn’t risen as much as it should have.
“I’m sure your mum is proud of you, Molly,” Horatio says.
“She’s proud of Prim. Prim aced all her Witching Academy exams and has a proper job. She’s proud of Tiggie because she’s beautiful and outgoing and will probably end up on Witches Got Talent one day.”
“Witches–” He shakes his head. “Molly, I’ll do it. I’ll come with you this weekend and pretend to be your boyfriend.”
“Really?” I say, a huge grin forming on my face.
“Yeah, and you’ll only have to repay me in brownies.”
He reaches over and takes the lot in his hands. Then he walks over to me, and kisses my forehead, making my heart flutter about in my chest.
“I gotta sleep,” he says, “it’s been a rough day.” I look more closely at his face. There are grey shadows under his eyes. I never asked him about his day. Even as a fake girlfriend, I’m pretty bad at this stuff. “We’ll meet tomorrow to draw up the contract, okay?”
“Contract?”
“Yeah,” he says walking out my door. “There’s always a contract involved in fake dating – especially when there’s a love potion involved.”