Chapter 25
TWENTY-FIVE
Iwas disturbed when I woke the next morning. Galen was used to me being in a bad mood but even he picked up that this was not a normal awakening.
“What’s with that face?” he asked.
I propped myself up on the pillows and stared down at my hands plucking at the blanket. “I had a dream.”
“Well, if I didn’t put on a good performance in it then you know it was a nightmare, not a dream.” He was going for levity but I didn’t smile.
“Hadley, what is it?” he asked, turning serious. His fingers were gentle as they brushed my hair back. “Did you dream about Declan?”
I shook my head.
“Bogdan?”
I shook my head again.
“It had better not have been about Booker.”
I gave him a withering look.
“Sorry.” He held up his hands in supplication. “I can’t help unless you tell me what the dream was about. Most of the time I try to joke you out of your bad mood in the morning.”
I rolled my neck and glanced up at the window. “It was about May.”
Galen looked surprised at my answer. “Did something happen to her in your dream?”
“That’s just it. I don’t think it was a dream.”
“She was here?” Galen looked around, as if my ghostly grandmother would appear at the foot of the bed. She had done that a time or two when we first started dating. Eventually — after getting more than an eyeful — she decided it was better to spend her nights at Wesley’s place.
“She’s over there,” I said. “On the other plane, just as I assumed. She said she’s not coming back.”
“I don’t understand.”
I related the dream for him in halting terms. I didn’t cry but I wanted to when I got to the part about her remaining behind for my mother. At some point — I don’t remember exactly when — he started rubbing my back, which only made me want to cry more.
“We can’t leave them there,” I said.
“It’s okay.” He pulled me to him and wrapped me tightly in his arms. “We’ll figure it out.”
“How can you say that?” Frustration clawed through my throat. “How can you know that?”
His response was simple. “Because that’s what we do.”
“But—”
“Nope.” His headshake was emphatic. “We’re going to figure this out, but we need to strategize. I do not want you getting worked up and rushing out to the ranch so you can race over to another plane without a plan.”
He was deadly serious as he dipped his chin to look directly into my eyes. “We’re coming up with a plan. We’ll get both of them. We’ll end Declan as a threat. Just take a breath.”
I stared back at him, debating, then buried my face in his chest. I didn’t want to cry.
It made me look weak. Okay, I knew that wasn’t really true.
It made me feel weak though. I was supposed to be this big bad witch.
I was supposed to be able to take out any and every enemy.
All I wanted to do was curl into a ball and let Galen hold me.
So that’s what I did.
He didn’t try to quell my tears. He didn’t beg me to stop, which was often his way. He held me until I was all cried out, then dragged me on top of him so I had no choice but to stare directly into his eyes.
“You listen to me,” he said. “We are going to figure this out. I need you to have faith.”
“Normally I do. This time, it’s harder.”
“Because it’s May and your mother. Your emotions are all over the place and that’s okay.
This is more than any one person should have to deal with.
” He brushed back my dark hair, which was falling like a curtain down his face.
“I can’t pretend to understand what you’re feeling.
You never even got a chance to know your mother. This situation, well, it’s messed up.”
I laughed at his delivery. “Is that your expert opinion?”
“We’re still going to figure it out.”
“I wish I could have your faith.”
“I’ll loan you some of mine.” He took a breath. “I refuse to let you be tortured at the thought of your mother and May being on another plane, trapped forever. It’s just not going to happen.”
I nodded. When he said it like that, with so much conviction, I could believe it.
“We’re going to be smart about it,” he continued. “We’re going to figure out a plan as a team. Together.”
“I don’t think I could live with it if something happened to you or our friends because you were trying to help me,” I admitted.
“Hadley.” He sounded exasperated. “How many times have you put yourself at risk for our friends?”
“That’s different.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s me.”
“I need you to consider something.” His tone didn’t change. “Your friends want to help you the same way you want to help them. You don’t get a say in that. We’re a team for a reason.”
Part of me wanted to argue with him but the other part recognized he was telling the truth. “Fine,” I said, exhaling heavily. “We’ll do it as a team. I get to be the boss, though.”
His lips twitched. “I’m not agreeing to that until we come up with a plan.”
“Oh, I’m going to be the boss.” I was firm on that. “I’m good at being the boss. Look how great I am at being mayor.”
“We’ll talk.” He gave me a kiss. “We should hop in the shower. As much as I’d like to linger here, something tells me we’re about to have a very long day.”
WE SHOWERED TOGETHER. GALEN ALWAYS joked that we were conserving water but he was full of it. He just liked playing with the loofah. Once we dressed, I pulled my hair back in a braid — it was my Lara Croft I Mean Business hairstyle — and headed downstairs.
Breakfast would be first, then we would come up with our next move. I had no idea what that would look like, other than a trip to the cemetery, but I was determined to get a preferable outcome, one way or another.
Marjory was in the kitchen. That wasn’t all that surprising. Once she got something in her head — like making up with her son — it was impossible to shake her. What was surprising was the person sitting at the table as she served him.
“Booker?” I pulled up short. “What are you doing here?”
“Eating cake for breakfast apparently,” Booker replied.
“Cake?” Galen strode forward, frowning at the huge box in the center of the table. “Why are we having cake for breakfast?” The look he pinned his mother with brimmed with suspicion.
“Don’t look at me that way.” Marjory waved off his annoyance as if swatting at a gnat. “These are samples from the bakery. It’s time you pick your flavors so we can decide on a design. The wedding is only six weeks away. You’re cutting it close.”
Was I suspicious that she was here in the middle of a catastrophe with cake? Absolutely. Did I hate the idea of having cake for breakfast? Not even a little.
“Awesome.” I edged around Galen and looked over the offerings. “What do we have?”
“Well, this is my favorite,” Marjory said. Her smile was warm, but I knew the woman well enough to understand that she had ulterior motives. “It’s white cake with Chantilly lace frosting.”
“Pass.” I waved my hand.
Marjory frowned at me. “Pass?”
“Pass,” I repeated.
“White cake is a classic.”
“I don’t like white cake. I’ll eat it if I have no other options, but it’s not my go-to.” I pointed to a chocolate cake with a yellow frosting. “What’s that?”
“Chocolate with buttercream.”
I grabbed the plate and a fork and dug in. “Oh, man.” I groaned in such a way that Galen’s eyebrow winged up.
“You’re only supposed to make that noise for me,” he complained. “We had an agreement.”
“I’m sorry.” I wasn’t really sorry. “This is what Heaven tastes like.”
He left me to my foodgasm and looked over the other offerings. He chose red velvet and sat next to me, essentially locking me between him and Booker. It was a strategic move that wasn’t lost on me.
“Not that I’m not happy to see you, Mother,” he started.
Marjory shot him a warning look.
“I don’t believe we were expecting you,” Galen continued. “Didn’t we talk about you at least texting before you visit?”
“I did text,” Marjory shot back. “I texted saying that I had cake samples and was having a real breakfast delivered because I didn’t have time to cook this morning.”
Galen’s brow creased as he dug for his phone. The look on his face when he pulled it out and stared at the screen told me all I needed to know. Marjory had texted. Before he could respond, the doorbell rang.
“That will be breakfast.” Marjory left to accept the delivery before Galen could think of anything to say.
He watched her disappear from the room. “She’s up to something,” he muttered.
“Maybe she just wants us to have a fabulous wedding cake,” I argued.
I finished my piece. “That was good. I like buttercream frosting, but I don’t like white cake.”
“We’re not having white cake.” Galen scowled. “White cake has always been her thing. We’re having something else.”
I gestured to the red velvet he’d all but devoured. “Is that what you want?”
He considered it. “I like red velvet, but it doesn’t seem appropriate for a wedding cake. If you like the chocolate and buttercream, I’m good with that.”
“Isn’t a wedding cake all about the design anyway?” Booker asked.
“Yes, and that’s probably her plan,” Galen said. “She’ll let us pick the flavors and then come in with some ridiculously over-the-top design that we hate but feel the need to allow because she compromised on the flavor.”
“Really, Galen,” Marjory scolded as she returned with several takeout bags. “You make me sound like a supervillain.”
“You’re Poison Marjory,” Galen replied. “Instead of poison kisses you hand out judgmental glares.”
Marjory didn’t actually look bothered by the suggestion. She opened the first container. “Pancakes and bacon.” She handed it to Galen before looking in another. “Pancakes with sausage links.” She handed that to Booker.
How had she known that Booker was going to be here for breakfast?
“One avocado toast,” she said as she put the container in front of an empty chair. “That leaves eggs, hash browns, toast, and bacon for you.” She handed me the last container and smiled. “Over-medium on your eggs, correct?”