Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Thirteen
G us was a whole fool if he thought he could be chill with Sirena. He thought he could be fine with her staying over at his apartment and examining the Saybrooke journal. So what that they kissed at the boardwalk and almost kissed again at the Harvest Festival? It was fine. They were friends. He was going to be as cool as an iced tea on a hot spring day when it came to Sirena.
They ordered pizza from Rapunzel’s, half pepperoni and half veggie, and watched a silly but scary television episode of The Twilight Zone . True to his word, Gus returned to his study once they finished eating dinner and wrote the quarterly newsletter for the historical society. His mind kept drifting to the idea of Sirena sitting on his couch. Drinking his tea. Watching reruns on his TV. He was so distracted by the thought of her, it took him an hour to write a single page. It wasn’t until the grandfather clock chimed that Gus realized he’d worked until midnight. He expected to come back to a darkened apartment, like he’d done countless times before. But instead, Gus found the living room light on and Sirena slumbering on the couch. She held the journal against her chest, her eyes shut and her body curled protectively over the book. Awe settled deep in his heart as he watched her slumber. Her braids fell over her face, and her body rose and fell in a steady rhythm. All his chill flew out the window when he realized the truth.
She’d tried to stay up and wait for him to come back.
Affection welled in his chest. She’d left the light on for him.
He eased the book from her hands and placed it on the table, then pulled out a blanket from the closet and draped it over her.
“Dream sweet dreams,” he whispered softly. Her mouth twitched upward as if she heard him in her sleep, and she settled deeper into the couch.
Hours later, Gus was still awake and feeling absolutely foolish.
How had he missed Sirena Caraway all this time? Before the Harvest Festival, they had only politely spoken to each other. Her head was always tucked down in her phone or in serious thought, disregarding the ghouls and creatures living around her. She was on her grind, working or manning the Shore Shack on the boardwalk, flipping burgers and delivering crispy fries to visitors. But something had changed within him, and his eyes were finally noticing the witch he’d known for years.
Gus shut his eyes and forced himself to get some sleep. May the cooking gods be with him. He was going to wake up early and make her breakfast.
Gus got up early, but Sirena was already up, reading the journal while scribbling down notes. They exchanged morning greetings and he retreated into the kitchenette with his phone clutched in his hand. Hopefully, Gus had enough food in his apartment to make a decent meal for Sirena. Despite his best efforts, Gus had failed to buy her the snow globe, but he could at least attempt to make scrambled eggs.
Of course, he couldn’t make scrambled anything because his milk was expired.
He opened the search engine on his phone. Save me from myself, internet.
After a quick search, Gus found a sausage, egg, and cheese sandwich recipe blog post on his phone. He scrolled down past the cute but long story the blogger wrote about why they loved this certain sandwich.
“Is that a tablespoon or a teaspoon of sage?” he muttered, his thumb moving over the screen.
Eventually he found the complete recipe, read over the ingredients, and began gathering them on his tiny kitchen counter. He was going to pull this breakfast off. You’ve got this.
Sirena’s voice called out from the living room, but her voice was muffled.
“Say that again, Si,” he said.
She repeated herself, louder this time. “Have you ever eaten pomegranate seeds?”
Gus thought for a second, then responded, “No, but I’m open to trying them.”
She answered him with an interested grunt. He stood in the kitchen doorway. Sirena sat on the couch with the journal and her notebook on her lap. Her braids were swept up into a messy bun, and her face was furrowed in thought.
“I’m making a quick sausage, egg, and cheese sandwich. How does that sound?”
Sirena looked up from the journal. “That sounds great.”
“Salt and pepper with a dash of mayo, everything on it.” He mimicked the common response that he heard whenever he ordered his sandwich from Lee’s Bodega.
She smiled. “No mayo for me, please. Thank you.”
Gus gave a thumbs-up and went back into the kitchen. He put the frozen sausage patties on a plate and popped them into the microwave. While the microwave hummed to life, he parted the English muffins and put them in the toaster. His skin tingled as he moved about the kitchen assembling the parts of the sandwich. The space filled with the aroma of pungent spices and heated bread. Gus cracked the eggs and fried them in a pan, waiting for the edges to get crispy.
He heard the squeak of the couch springs, then shot a glance over to Sirena standing in the kitchenette’s doorway. He yanked his attention back to the sizzling pan.
Gus didn’t want to accidentally burn the food because he was too busy gawking at her. That nightgown graced her curves and fell to her ankles.
She breathed in and sighed. “It smells good.”
Gus pulled out a chair at the table, quickly returning over to the stove. He placed a few slices of cheese on the eggs, turned off the burner, then put on the lid. The chair creaked as she sat down.
He faced her. “You were up late.”
Sirena nodded. “I was reading about stitching a dream pillow, and then I was knocked out. How did you sleep?”
His brain answered. Terribly. I couldn’t stop thinking of you. “I slept great,” he lied. “How about you?”
Sirena looked down at her lap.
“I had a strange dream.”
“You can tell me if you want,” he said.
“Eh—I dreamed that I was cooking at the Shore Shack, but I was butt naked. I wasn’t wearing an apron. I was getting a full-body tan.”
Hmm. “What were you cooking?”
She looked up at him through her lashes. “I was grilling foot-long hot dogs on a flat top. I broke, like, all the sanitary codes.”
Great. Just great. Now Gus had another image of Sirena in his head that would keep him up at night.
He watched a slight frown play on her lips. “Something’s on your mind.”
“I know I’m stressed out about work when I dream about cooking naked,” she said.
“How many times have you had this dream?” he asked, trying not to burst into flames.
He wanted to know the answer, but then he didn’t want to know the answer. Friends talked about their odd dreams.
“I’ve had this dream several times but never about a former job,” she said. “I’ve got a menu, I’ve finished my shopping, but something’s missing. It’s too early for me to have stress dreams about this interview.”
“You shouldn’t stress out too much.”
“Tell that to my brain,” she teased.
Gus put on his magician’s cap and thought about her dream critically.
“I’m not a dream expert, but maybe your intuition is trying to help you discover what you’re missing. You dreamed about cooking at the Shore Shack. Tell me about your favorite day there.”
Sirena huffed. “My favorite day was the day I got fired.”
Gus blinked and waited. He had to hear this story.
“It was the last weekend of the summer. A half an hour after we opened the shack, the freezer broke down and threatened to spoil all our food. Our manager was freaking out and scared to call the owner. We couldn’t get in contact with the owner, so I made the decision to cook everything. I made every type of burger I could think of that day. I made an upside-down burger with onion rings and pickles.”
“What about a fried egg and black bean burger?” Gus chuckled.
“It was on the menu,” she said.
Her voice went soft as she lost herself to the memory. “We turned up the radio and had a dance party on the boardwalk. Customers paid what they wished, and we sold out every single item. I got interviewed for the Freya Grove Press and we managed to make a lot of money. It was a fun time.” Sirena let out a rough breath. “I wish the story ended there.”
“I hope the owner got down and kissed your feet,” he said.
She shook her head. “No, he screamed at me. He said there was a reason I was just a loser cook and he was a successful business owner. I was told I wasn’t special, and I was replaceable.”
Anger tightened his gut.
“He fired me,” Sirena said. Her smile turned dangerously sharp. “The joke was on him. All that press and attention brought in customers who wanted to try my food. He begged me to come back, and I asked him why he would need help from a loser cook.”
Gus nodded; a sense of satisfaction filled his chest.
“Tell me you turned him down.”
Sirena shrugged. “I needed the check. I worked the rest of the summer; then I moved over to Night Sky. Gwen needed help, so I offered to work for her.”
“Why don’t I remember this party happening?” he asked.
“You were probably busy at a history conference,” Sirena said. “We didn’t really know each other well back then.”
Gus took her in. His plaid blanket was wrapped around her shoulders, and Cinder wound around her bare feet. His heart drank her in, and his chest lightened at the sight of her. She reminded him of a domestic goddess, soft and warm and looking at home in his apartment.
“You’re getting your spark back. I can see it when you talk about cooking.”
She lowered her head. “I really want this job.”
“You’ve got this, Chef Caraway,” he said, without a doubt.
The microwave beeped. Gus took out the warmed sausage platter and assembled two sandwiches, making sure to put the right amount of salt and pepper on them, and placed each one on a separate plate. He brought them over to the table and presented the meal to her with a small flourish. “Ta-da.”
She rubbed her hands together. “It looks great. Thank you for this.”
“Hopefully it tastes good,” he said.
Sirena picked up her sandwich and took a bite. As she chewed, a muted, seemingly pleased sound came out of her mouth. Gus didn’t eat, but rather waited for her to finish tasting. “I know it’s not as good as your cooking, but I think I can throw down a little.”
Sirena tasted it purposefully, as if trying to figure out the ingredients. “What’s in this?”
He had done his best to stick to the recipe. “I don’t think I added anything extra. We’ve got ketchup and hot sauce if you want it.”
She took another bite and swallowed. “It’s perfect. I can taste salt and pepper in the egg. There’s sage and brown sugar in the sausage, but there’s something else. It’s subtle, but it’s there.”
Sudden realization lit her face. “I got it! You put your foot into this. My compliments to the cook.”
Sirena finished the sandwich with a flourish. He hadn’t put his foot into it, but his heart and a bit of his soul. If she was able to taste it, then he had to be careful to hide his feelings for her. She hadn’t asked for his heart, but he was literally serving it to her on a platter. Maybe he added too much emotion. Next time he’d know better.
He wanted there to be a next time with Sirena.
“I’ve got a surprise for you!” Ma sang.
Dread pooled in his gut. Gus eased into the leather chair in his study, wanting to be comfortable for what Ma had in store for him. Ma was on speakerphone, chatting about the impending trip to London and what illusions she was performing, when she interrupted herself.
“What’s the surprise?”
“I found you a wedding date,” she said.
Gus sat up in his chair. “I said I’d take care of it.”
“You were taking too long!” Ma groaned.
“I haven’t said I’m going,” he said.
Ma let out an outraged squawk.
“You have to go! It’ll look strange if Diane and Zeke go but you don’t attend.”
Gus felt like yanking his beard out hair by hair.
“How will it look? You’ll look bitter, or hung up on your ex,” Ma pressed him further.
Okay. So, Zeke, who was once his close friend, was going to the wedding, but Gus wasn’t. It would look weird, but he’d spent so much time concerned about what other people thought about him that he was exhausted. Who cares what anyone else thinks about you?
He took a second to answer that question. Everyone would care about him not being there. Jess and Igor had their reality show, which would be filming at the wedding and capturing the guests. Millions of people would rewatch this wedding episode and notice that he wasn’t there. The rumor mill would take off, and the celebrity bloggers would get online and speculate about why he wasn’t there. Attention would be taken away from Jess and Igor’s wedding. Gus didn’t want that to happen to either of them. His resolve folded like a piece of paper. He’d already taken so much time and focus from Jess in the past; he didn’t want to take more time from her and her future.
“I don’t need a date,” he ground out. “I can find my own.”
A cheer echoed over the speakerphone. “Oh! So, you’re going now.”
His head pounded. He didn’t miss the note of smug happiness in Ma’s voice. Gus picked up his phone and opened the internet browser. He searched for Jess and Igor’s wedding site and found the RSVP tab. Before Gus could think, he quickly entered his name and clicked off that he was bringing a plus-one.
“In for a penny, in for a pound,” he muttered.
“Oh, you’ll have so much fun! You won’t regret it, Gus,” Ma insisted.
Too late. Gus pressed enter and officially submitted his response.
He was now an underling of fate.
Ma continued talking on about wearing matching colors or chipping in for a large wedding gift. Gus half-listened to her debating whether to wear maroon or ruby. He was going to buy Jess and Igor the second biggest item on their wedding registry. Screw it. Gus was going to buy them two items and monogrammed towels.
“Remember to play to the cameras,” she reminded him.
Gus grumbled noncommittally. Ma said goodbye and ended the conversation.
Who was going to be his plus-one? He recalled what Diane had said earlier: You don’t have one friend who could be your date?
His brain conjured up an image of Sirena, shimmying and shaking her generous hips in time with the music. How good would it feel to sway with her in his arms? To watch her lip sync to the pop songs and cackle with his sister about a private joke? To see how freaking sexy she’d look dressed in crimson red. Sirena’s your friend. A friend you kissed and can’t stop dreaming about—and wanting.
Gus pressed his hands to his forehead, an impending headache building behind his eyes. There were going to be cameras everywhere at the wedding, picking up his every action and every mistake. He was completely screwed. He wouldn’t be able to hide his feelings for Sirena. Distress snaked through his chest and slowed his breath. He was going right back into the manufactured world he’d left years ago. It was the filming of Dealing with the Dearworths that pushed his relationship with his family to the breaking point. His extended family were reality TV royalty, with their dramatic and funny antics. They played off their real spells as mere stage illusions and tricks, much to the entertainment of their fans.
Whenever he went to cast a small spell, Ma stopped Gus and gestured to the film crew, who were switching out their batteries.
“Save it for them,” she’d whisper to him out the side of her mouth.
He made sure to play it up once the cameras were on. During the divorce proceedings, Gus couldn’t pull a rabbit out of a hat or saw a lovely assistant in half. The thrill was gone. Ma gently encouraged him to work through the heartbreak to become a better performer. Gus stopped playing to the camera and became “boring.” He dressed in gray tones, gave one-word answers, and read thick nonfiction books that could double as door stops.
He was too tired to pretend that he was happy and having fun. Once, when they were alone, after a completely dull filming session, Ma spun on him.
“You weren’t giving us anything,” she shouted. “I could hear people turning off their screens. You’re not getting any screen time because you’re just so… so… boring .”
“Is that such a bad thing?” he asked.
She dismissed his question with a flick of her hand. “Dearworths can’t be boring. My son isn’t boring. I need you to be magical,” Ma pleaded. “They’re going to cut you out of the show.”
Ma had been concerned that his cousin Walt would be given his storylines. Gus wanted to become the son she needed for the show, but he couldn’t maintain that illusion. He didn’t want to work; he wanted to sit down and rest for once. Gus listened as Ma spoke about how the producers wanted to see something truly exciting, or they would stop filming him.
Gus sat there silent, unable to think of a single spell. It was time for him to go.
He managed to reply through stiff lips. “I don’t want to put on a show.”
Her face fell. “I don’t believe you.”
Gus asked to be written off the show. The producers, ready for a big season finale storyline, agreed to his request. Throughout his final episode, Ma kept repeating to him and anyone who would listen: “This is just a hiatus. You’ll be back.”
A tiny part of him wanted to come back to the stage. To show those trolls, both real and online, that he was still talented and amazing. But the more Gus settled into his life in Freya Grove, the less he thought about going back to his magic career ever. He could still astonish, but in a different way, a way that made strangers and students want to learn about the past. Gus didn’t want to deal with the edits, the hot mic packs pressed on his back, and being unable to speak freely without his words being turned into a Frankenbite.
But he’d go to Jess’s wedding to keep his absence from being a distraction.
He owed her that much after their marriage. Gus, brokenhearted and drained by fame and magic, retreated to Freya Grove once his divorce was finalized. With Ms. Alice’s support and invitation, he landed the job of society steward and moved into the Freya Grove Historical Society.
Now that Jess and Igor were getting married in his hometown, he was being asked to put on a show again. Be the heartbroken ex. Be the understanding son. Be the fun-time guy. Be anyone but himself. No amount of magic or illusions would change the fact he didn’t want to rejoin the act permanently. Gus wanted to learn how to unlock the parts of his heart that he’d long shut up and abandoned.
A ring chimed in the air, breaking into his thoughts. Someone was at the back kitchen door. Did he miss another delivery time? Gus left his study, walked through the house, and went to answer the door.
“Happy Friday!” Sirena stood on the stair landing, then walked into the kitchen. She wore a cherry-red dress that wrapped around her lush body and showed off her plentiful bust. How did she look like a strawberry treat? His eyes dipped down momentarily to admire her smooth cleavage. Stop. It. He snapped his attention back to her face. His ribs expanded at the sight of her ruby lips. Why did they look so kissable?
Arms. Look at her arms. Her shoulders held two overflowing totes of groceries.
She thrust a full bag at him. “I hope you’re ready to eat.”
He took the bag, racking his brain. It’s Friday. It was that Friday. Gus let out an annoyed grunt. He had a whole calendar on his phone, and he needed to use it.
Sirena stopped, hesitancy flashing in her eyes. “You forgot.”
He reached out and touched her shoulder with her free hand. “No, I didn’t forget. I just… lost track of time. I still have a few things to finish before I can join you.”
Gus placed the groceries on the counter. He needed to respond to his next steward applicant and finish an in-process grant application before Monday.
“That’s fine. Keep working. I’ll cook,” she said.
“Clock in, so I can get you paid.” Her time was valuable.
Sirena tilted her head to the side. “Gus, please. Tonight’s my treat.”
Gus put his hands in his pockets and paced the floor a little. He stood by the table, watching her make herself at home. Sirena emptied the bags as she spoke to him, filling the counter with various herbs, poultry, and broccoli florets. She dropped a squeeze bottle of honey on the table. “Besides, I should be paying you. My cooking magic’s been so wacky, you’re doing me a favor by being my taster. Be honest.”
“You’re giving me jester’s privilege,” he said.
Sirena gave him a curious look. “You’re talking about the guy with the funny hat who entertained the king?”
They were always in sync when it came to random topics.
Gus leaned against the wall next to the stove. “Yes, I am. The jester’s privilege was a right. He could talk freely to royalty without being harmed. He could tell the queen if her wig was crooked with a joke and not get tossed into the river.”
Sirena lifted a brow. “Are you calling me a queen?”
If the crown fits. Gus held back from speaking the truth. He needed to keep his cool when it came to Sirena. “I promise to be honest, my lady.”
“Thank you.” Sirena took out her phone and her fox journal from a bag and put them on the counter. The cover and a few pages of the journal were warped, as though she had spilled water on it. Maybe he could replace it for her. She snapped the book open to a page with notes and scribbles.
“I hope you’re feeling adventurous,” she said.
“How adventurous are we talking? Like, are we eating fried jellyfish?”
Sirena connected her phone to the charger that was plugged in to the wall. “I’m combining the shore croquettes recipe from the society library with a honey sauce I found in the Saybrooke journal.”
“Oh, I’m getting a Caraway original,” he said. He licked his lips at the idea of the honey sauce. Gus knew he was going to lick his plate clean tonight.
“It’s more of an homage,” she corrected. “I need you to fall head over heels for this dish.”
He looked at her. “I’m sure I’ll love it.”
She met Gus’s gaze; an optimistic light entered her eyes, transforming them from their usual umber into a pretty mocha shade. His breath caught in his throat. Looking at Sirena reminded Gus of late evenings studying in coffeehouses, cupping his hands around a hot drink, and letting the liquid warm him up from the inside out. Looking at her made him feel like he was a student discovering the world and learning the depths of his heart.
She blinked and wrinkled her brow. “Don’t let me distract you. I know you have work to do.”
Sirena gave him a smile before pulling out a knife from the drawer. She worked on chopping the broccoli, gently easing Gus out of her mental space. He stood there momentarily, deciding whether to just bring his laptop downstairs. Gus hesitated. That idea was a little too homey, too personal. She’d already stayed the night, and her perfume lingered on his couch. Now she was in the society’s kitchen, conjuring and brewing, her magic touching everything. He stared at her back, noticing the creamy skin of her neck. What if he walked up to her and placed his lips right at the crook of her neck? Would she sigh or let out a sweet, needy moan? A fresh hunger, like a vengeful zombie, crawled up within him and hissed in his head.
It hissed the one thing that would satisfy him. Her. The hunger demanded her .
That one word forced him to flee from the kitchen and into the protection of his study.