Twenty-three
MORGAN
I'm not feeling particularly festive, but as one of the Goode grandchildren, I'm basically required to attend the town's big Halloween bash. A few weeks ago, Zach and I talked about going as Gomez and Morticia Addams, and since I don't have any other brilliant ideas, I stick with that, even though the costume will feel incomplete without him.
But I doubt he'll even come. This isn't his thing. And even if he does, I'm sure he won't dress as Gomez. That's even more of an odd costume without Morticia.
I've felt too down to buy an actual costume, so I find an old black cocktail dress I have—it's floor length, which is appropriate, but lacks the bell sleeves or the deep cleavage of the character. It'll have to do. It shows enough cleavage to get attention.
A glamour spell takes care of my hair and makeup. And in deference to the costume, I dig out a pair of black flats. I don't think Morticia would go barefoot .
In past years, the party has been a good opportunity to hook up with someone. People come from all around, so I always seem to meet someone from out of town. Have a nice one-night stand to clear my system for a while, and no complications. Especially since I knew I couldn't fall in love.
This year, though, even though I have no idea where things are with Zach, I know I can't have a meaningless hookup and still look myself in the mirror tomorrow morning.
He apologized the other night, sort of, after he read Mom's Grimoire pages. But by the time he got through it all, I was so exhausted, I was half asleep. When he put a blanket over me, kissed my temple, and whispered, "Good night, Morgan. I'm so sorry. I'm going to fix this," I pretended I was fully asleep and didn't respond.
But his words warmed me more than the blanket, and I ended up spending the whole night on my chair. I had to get a potion from Sirona to unkink all my muscles on Monday morning.
At least I don't have to worry about him tonight. I can't imagine him being at the party. My plan is to hang out with my sisters and cousins, dance a little and let myself forget for a few minutes, then leave early and go to bed. The party always goes well past midnight. It starts on the 30 th and goes until at least three a.m. on Halloween morning.
Kids trick or treat for Halloween tomorrow evening. And Friday is the big Samhain wedding. Which I know I won't be able to get away with leaving early. So I'm leaving early tonight.
Because I can't bike in an ankle-length cocktail dress, I actually take my car to Witch’s Brew Brewery, where the party is being held. It's packed when I get there, guests spilling outside to the lakefront patio, which is set up with a DJ and outdoor heaters.
I wind my way through goblins and Barbies, trying to find my family. I have no trouble spotting Sirona and Grant, since they're Frankenstein and his bride, and Sirona's hair is huge. But I don't feel like dealing with their happy coupleness, so I duck into a different room before they see me.
And run smack into Gomez Addams. Aka Zach.
"You're here."
"You came."
I tug at a strand of my longer-than-usual black hair. "It's a family thing. I have to be here."
He looks sexy as fuck in his black, double breasted, pinstripe suit with a jaunty little bowtie, and a fake mustache. His now-short hair—which looks even better on him than long hair did and I want to touch it—is slicked back, just begging for me to mess it up.
In the dim lighting, I can't make out his expression, but his gaze feels hot on my skin. Specifically the exposed skin of my chest and breasts.
"You, uh, you look fantastic." He's definitely looking at my cleavage when he says it.
"Thanks. You too. I'm surprised you're here."
He shrugs. "It's practically family for me now too."
We stand in awkward silence for a moment. Then my gaze snags on Lavender, wearing bleach-white pigtails, the ends of one dyed blue and the other red. She's Harley Quinn from the Suicide Squad movie.
"I should go talk to my cousin." I tilt my head in her direction.
He nods. "Sure."
I start to walk away, but his hand wraps around my upper arm and stops me. Tingles skitter over my skin at his touch.
I miss him.
"Could we maybe dance? Later?"
There’s a crack of vulnerability in his voice that I can't deny. "Yeah. Find me in a little while."
He nods again and drops my arm. I miss his touch immediately. My chest aches as I work my way over to where Lavender is talking with Amethyst, who is in a pink baseball dress, dressed up as one of the Rockford Peaches from A League of Their Own .
We admire each other's costumes and work our way to the bar to get drinks. Bronwen joins us, dressed as Cookie Monster in a thick blue onesie with a hood. "I let Sabrina pick my costume this year."
I shake my head, smirking at her.
"At least it's warm."
Lavender glances over my shoulder, then back to me. "How're you doing? I see Zach is here."
After coming clean to my sisters, I told Lavender and Amethyst about me and Zach. We're close in age and of all my cousins, I'm closest to them.
I consider lying, but instead say, "I feel like shit." The fact I'm carrying around a huge secret about my mom just makes me feel even worse. I'm not sure how to tell my sisters that our mom accidentally killed our dad and then she and Nana covered it up. Or that I now know why our Aunt Diana left town and has cut off all contact.
I'm still coming to grips with it all myself. I'm not sure I can talk about it. When they came over Sunday morning, I chickened out and told them I found the pages but hadn’t read them yet.
Maybe after the wedding, I'll just give them the Grimoire pages and let them handle things. Sirona will know what to do.
Amethyst puts an arm around my shoulder and leans her head against mine. "Wanna get drunk and dance our problems away?" For Amethyst, music and dancing solve everything.
And because I don't want to be the one who pulls everyone else's mood down, I say, "Sure. Let's dance." I throw back the rest of my drink, grab Bronwen's hand, and start slowly moving through the crowd.
The four of us dance in a group, one song bleeding into the next. Chessie joins us, and eventually so does Evan.
Bronwen is giggly after a few drinks and dances closer to Evan than she normally would. I'm pretty sure she's the only person who doesn't realize how Evan feels about her.
Whatever, they can be clueless together. Evan's a good guy, and now that Bronwen is released from the curse and can fall in love, maybe he has a shot. But that's not my problem tonight.
As far as I'm concerned, nothing is my problem tonight. Problems are for Tomorrow Morgan. Tonight Morgan isn't dealing with anything except having fun.
Maybe if I tell myself that enough, I'll start to believe it.
I lose track of time as we dance, letting the rhythm take over my body. I rarely let myself go this completely, but tonight I need it. It feels good to shut off my brain and be fully present in the moment. I'm usually shit at the mindfulness be-in-the-present-moment stuff, but apparently a combination of heartbreak, alcohol, and dance music is what gets me there.
Lavender occasionally disappears and returns with drinks for everyone, so I keep taking what she hands me. After three beers, I'm approaching a pleasant state. Though I did miscalculate; now I'm not going to be able to leave too early. No fucking way I'm driving when I've had three beers. I'm not shitfaced or anything, but I'm buzzed. Definitely not sober enough to drive.
I feel the instant he comes up behind me. He doesn't have to say anything, or even touch me. I feel when his energy is close enough to mingle with mine.
Wordlessly, I reach back, my hand hitting his thigh a few times before I locate his hand and lace our fingers together. He steps in closer to me, squeezing my hand and pressing his front to my back.
My heart is pounding in my throat as I pull his arm around me, holding it under my breasts. He wraps his other arm around me, pulling me gently into him. I can barely breathe as I lean into him and we sway together. We're slower than the music and painfully off rhythm but I don't care.
He presses his face to the side of my head; maybe he's even kissing me there, I can't tell. But the touch lights up my whole body.
"I miss you, Morgan," he whispers in my ear, barely loud enough for me to hear over the music and conversation.
My throat is too clogged with emotion to answer, so I simply squeeze his hand and pull his arm tighter around me. We're pressed together from shoulder to thigh and it's not enough. I need more. I need all of him.
Except he hurt me. So badly. When it comes down to it, he doesn't trust me.
The remembrance is like a knife slashing across my chest.
Still, I don't pull away. I don't want us to be over and he said he's going to fix things. I want to give him the chance to do that.
His fake mustache tickles my temple as he says, "I really want to kiss you right now. Right here, in front of everyone. Let them know what you do to me, and that you're mine."
Am I? Am I truly his? I desperately want to believe it, but I'm too much of a cynic to fully embrace what he's offering.
Besides, I deserve a good groveling from him. But this isn't the place for that.
Still holding his hand, I unwind our arms and start to wriggle my way through the press of bodies on the dancefloor, pulling him with me. I don't know where I'm going, exactly. My body responded to the need in his voice and is taking action. Finding somewhere he can kiss me.
The patio overlooks Wildflower Lake, and I lead him into the darkness toward the water. When we're far enough away from the crowd we can talk without shouting, I spin around and bump against his chest.
He wraps our joined hands around my back and holds me close. "I need to kiss you. Please, can I kiss you?"
I'm still too emotional to speak, so I tilt my chin up and find his lips with mine. With a groan, he starts nibbling at my lower lip, tiny kisses and gentle scrapes of his teeth. His mustache tickles my upper lip, an odd sensation. I've kissed men with beards and mustaches before, so it's not an unfamiliar sensation. But it is with Zach.
I pull back long enough to rip the costume accessory off, then shove it in his pants pocket. Mother Nature hates littering.
He immediately resumes his playful kisses. "Not a fan of the facial hair?" he murmurs against my mouth.
"Not on you."
Speaking of hair, I run my hands through the now-short hairs at the nape of his neck. He lets out a long, low moan. "That feels good."
I move higher, to where the hair is long enough I can sift my fingers through it. It's stiff with hair gel, making it all the more fun to mess up.
My body is on fire and all he's done so far is kiss me. He hasn't even engaged our tongues yet.
"I lied the other night." He's still kissing me, his words a breath across my swollen-feeling lips.
Panic surges up in me. I can't handle another barrier between us.
"I'm not falling for you, Morgan. I'm done falling. I'm there."
I pull back, sucking in a gulp of air. "What do you mean?" I can't see his eyes in this darkness. Can't read his expression.
"I'm in love with you, Morrigan Goode." He bumps his nose against mine. "So in love with you. And I know I fucked up, but I'm going to fix it. Whatever I have to do."
Emotion swells up in my chest, threatening to crack through my ribs and explode out of me. It's too much, too big. I can't handle this. I don't know what to say, even though "I love you too" seems the obvious choice. But the words are trapped behind the emotion.
So I lunge at him. I kiss him, pressing my tongue into his mouth. We stand there in the darkness, wrapped around each other, devouring each other. His hands are everywhere: on my back, my hips, palming my ass to pull me closer, cupping my breasts, tangling in my hair. Even though my hair is a glamour, I feel it when he tugs on the long strands, an arrow of arousal spiking straight to my clit.
I want him. Badly. It would be so easy to nudge him to the ground and ride him, right here where no one can see us. He clearly wants me, his erection pressing into my belly.
But something holds me back. Gasping for air, I pull away from the kiss, only far enough for us to lean our foreheads together. When I open my eyes, his are still closed.
My hands come up to frame his face. "Zach, there's so much we need to figure out. And we can't tonight."
He releases a long sigh. "OK. But we will figure it out, right?"
My heart skips a beat, then seems to trip over itself. Why did falling in love have to come with so many complications? Why can't it just be simple?
And the fact that in two days, he's going to be my stepbrother is a whole other thing I don't even let myself think about because it's too weird.
"I think so," I whisper. "But I'm too tired and too tipsy to do it tonight."
He nods, the movement of his head jostling mine. "Do you need a ride home? I haven't had anything to drink. "
I can always find a way back to pick up my car tomorrow. "That would be great."
He laces our fingers together, and silently, we walk toward his car.
ZACH
Thursday is just another workday for me, though I did take the afternoon off so I can do some last-minute wedding errands for Dad.
What I really want is a chance to sit down and talk to him about what Morgan found in her mom's Grimoire. Even more, I want to talk to Morgan about it.
It blows my mind that her mom killed her dad. And even if it was an accident, the way Angela and Hazel covered it up, using magic to make it look like a heart attack, that's some cold shit.
But my dad is so damn happy with her. And I don't think she's some sort of black widow, who's going to kill my dad. If she were like that, she'd have had another few husbands in the time since Morgan's dad died. She seemed genuinely devastated, from what she wrote in that journal.
I can't make up my fucking mind, so I do nothing. Which I know is also a choice. But until I'm certain it's the right thing to do, I can't tell my dad.
I know I could ask Morgan to come over so we can talk out the situation. The situation with her mom, not the situation with the two of us.
Too damn many situations.
All I really want is to hold Morgan in my arms and kiss her and tell her over and over again how much I love her. Like I did last night, but more. I don't know what to do to make amends for what a complete jackass I was. But I need to figure out something soon. I miss her too much.
I'm sitting at my dining room table, writing out my to do list for the afternoon, when a knock at my apartment door startles me out of my thoughts.
Morgan?
My heart leaps at the thought but quickly settles. She would never show up without texting first. Nor would my dad. And who else would even come to my apartment?
I look through the peephole to find Hazel Goode waiting in the hallway. As usual, she’s wearing a drapey black dress, and with her gray and white streaked hair, all she’s missing is a pointy hat and she’d look every bit the stereotypical witch from fairy tales.
Standing next to her is Morgan. My heart trips over itself. She’s here!
But with her grandmother.
Confused, I open the door. “Hello, Hazel.” It feels weird in my mouth to call her anything but Mrs. Goode, but she’s insisted on me using her first name. “Morgan. How can I help you?”
Hazel brushes past me, into my apartment, then walks to the couch and sits down in the middle. Morgan follows, giving me an awkward smile as she passes.
Hazel pats the cushion next to her. “Come have a seat, Zach. We have some talking to do. Morgan, you sit here.” She indicates her other side.
Oooooooohkaaaaay. I sit where she’s asked, as does Morgan. Over Hazel’s head, I shoot Morgan a questioning glance. She responds with a facial shrug.
“First thing, you helped Morgan break her curse.”
“Nana!” Morgan’s face turns red.
“You do know what that means, don’t you?”
Morgan broke her curse? Why didn’t she say something last night? Maybe around the time I told her I love her, that would’ve been nice. “I think I do,” I say to Hazel, shooting another questioning glance at Morgan. This time she doesn’t meet my eyes.
Hazel looks over her shoulder at her granddaughter, shakes her head, then turns back to me. “It means several things, but must importantly for you, it means she loves you. Truly loves you. And I understand that you’ve bungled that.”
“Nana, please. This isn’t your place.”
Now my cheeks flame as brightly as Morgan’s. “I, uh, yes, ma’am, I did.”
“And how do you intend to fix it? You have to love her too, so I hope you’ve got a good plan. My Morgan can be pretty prickly.”
Morgan groans.
I snort a laugh. “Yeah, she can be.” Don’t I know it. “I’m working on a plan.” In that I’ve decided I need a plan to grovel for her forgiveness, but I have no actual elements of the plan worked out.
I catch Morgan’s gaze, and after a moment, her brown eyes soften. My chest squeezes. What would I say if her grandma weren’t here? Other than telling her over and over how much I love her and want to be with her.
Hazel sighs, her small shoulders rising up and down. “Well, that’s taken care of. You two kids work that out. And soon. And perhaps our second order of business will help in that regard. I understand you have trouble believing she was talking to your mother.”
My mom. The words are like a wrecking ball to the chest. My memories of her are slowly fading, yet I miss her so damn much.
“It’s not that I don’t believe Morgan.” I make sure she’s looking at me for this next part. “She caught me off guard and I reacted like a jackass.” I can own that.
“Your words, not mine.” Morgan raises her eyebrows, but her expression is still soft. Open. She’s hearing me .
“I know. I fuc—uh, messed up. I’m going to fix things.”
Hazel waves away my profanity fumble. “That’s good you believe her. Because we have your mother here with us right now.” She rises and moves to the armchair perpendicular to the couch, as if making room for the ghost—no, spirit—to sit.
I almost fall off the sofa, I’m so stunned. “You what?” I manage to sputter, my gaze moving back and forth between Morgan and Hazel.
Morgan moves closer to me on the couch, but not quite close enough for me to reach out and touch her. “Close your eyes and settle your mind, and you’ll feel her presence.” Morgan’s voice is low and soothing, a contrast to her usual tone. “The veil between the worlds is at its thinnest right now, and while you won’t be able to see her or hear her, you’ll feel she’s here. You’ll know.”
Heart racing, I close my eyes but it’s nearly impossible to settle my mind. How can I when she just dropped the bombshell that my long-dead mom is in the same fucking room?
“Slow, deep breaths,” Morgan says. “Focus your thoughts on a good memory of your mom. It’ll come.”
I think back to one of the few memories of Mom that’s still somewhat clear in my head. It was the summer before she died. She was a teacher, so she was home with me all summer, and there was one day when she took me to Madison to the zoo.
There’s one crystal clear snapshot moment from that day of her laughing at some antics the monkeys were up to. I remember looking up at her, the sun glinting on her dark hair, her face broken out in a wide smile. I thought she was the most beautiful woman in the whole world and I was lucky she was my mom.
Something shifts in the air. It’s subtle, but it’s like there’s energy around us that wasn’t there a minute ago. Goosebumps break out on my skin. I open my eyes and look at the empty cushion on the couch, and in my mind’s eye, I can see the faintest outline of her. I can feel her sitting next to me and it’s so strong.
I can almost see her.
“Mom?” My voice cracks with emotion.
There’s a pause, then Morgan says, “She’s crying. She says she wishes she could hug you.” She pauses again, then, “And she loves you so much and misses you.”
It feels like my chest has cracked open and exposed my heart. I can feel each pulse of blood as it pumps through my veins. I’m hyperaware of everything but can’t focus on anything except the vague energy of the woman who’s barely even there.
“She has what she says is an important message for you. That you better listen to her and take it to heart.” Morgan’s expression is full of grim understanding.
I nod at her. “OK, what is it? And, Mom, I promise I will listen to whatever you have to say.”
Morgan pauses, then repeats what my mom presumably says. “She wants you to know… to really believe deep in your heart… you are in no way responsible for her death.”
Another wrecking ball to the chest. I wrap my arms around myself.
“She knows you’ve carried that with you all these years… but it wasn’t your fault.”
I’m openly sobbing now, big hiccupping gulps of air, with tears and snot. And I don’t even care that Morgan’s seeing me like this. It means everything that she’s the one sharing this experience with me.
“But what about?—”
Morgan holds up a hand to cut me off. “She said you listen and you take it to heart. Are you going to disobey and argue with your mother’s spirit?”
I close my eyes as I reach for a tissue from the box on my end table. “No. Sorry, Mom. ”
I’ll try, anyway. I don’t think I can change that much overnight. But I can work on it.
“She wants you to be happy.” Hazel reaches over and pats my knee. “And I do too. Tomorrow, you’ll officially be family. And we Goodes take care of each other.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask if taking care of each other extends to covering up accidental death. But I already know that answer. It does. And now it’s the time to let her know what Morgan discovered.
Morgan chuckles nervously. “She says you better fix things between us.”
Hazel lets out of bark of laughter at the same moment Morgan rolls her eyes.
“She says Morgan can be a prickly one,” Hazel tells me.
It’s one of the many things I love about her. “She definitely can. And I’m working on it, Mom.” I catch Morgan’s gaze so I’m sure she hears me when I say, “I’m not letting her get away.”
Hazel reaches over and pats my knee. “Good boy. You two deserve each other.”
“Anything else to say to him, Vanessa?” Morgan asks. She waits a moment, then says, “She loves you very much and hopes you can talk again.”
My tears have stopped, but my throat is still clogged with emotion. “I hope so too, Mom.”
Hazel pushes to her feet, and Morgan follows suit. “We need to get going. Big day tomorrow.”
I follow them to the door, feeling more than a little out of sorts. That’s it? They’re just going to leave? Morgan and I aren’t going to talk at all?
“Your mom says she’ll talk to you again soon, after the wedding. She and Maria are going to Paris for a few days.”
I blink hard at the unexpected revelation. I had no idea spirits could just hop around the globe like that. I have so much to learn from Morgan.