Twenty-four
MORGAN
Today's the big day. And I have to wear fucking shoes. Mom said to consider it a wedding present to her. I can't wait to get to the reception, when I can get away with taking the damn things off. Because not only are they shoes, they're heels. I fucking hate heels.
My dress is not a standard maid of honor dress. Instead, it's a deep violet crepe material, with a flowy skirt and bell sleeves. It's cut low enough to tease but not revealing. Various symbols of good fortune, a happy life, abundance, love, and all that sentimental wedding stuff are embroidered on the dress in orange and black. There is no doubt I'm in a Samhain wedding.
I don't see Zach until we join at the start of the short aisle we have to walk down. We decided to have the ceremony outside, in Mom and Gary's backyard. There are chairs set up on either side of a black satin runner, and Nana cast a warmth spell around the area. It is, after all, November first in Wisconsin. We're lucky it isn't raining, or even snowing.
Zach is in a tuxedo, with his now-short hair brushed back off his face, and my whole body notices how hot he is.
...we will figure it out...
His words from last night echo in my head as my palms start sweating around my orange and purple bouquet.
He looks me up and down, naked appreciation in his eyes. He lingers on my cleavage, then my lips, before meeting my gaze. "You look amazing."
Despite everything still unresolved between us, I grin at the compliment. "Thank you." This is the first time I can remember myself actually accepting a compliment rather than deflecting it. "You clean up pretty good too."
He holds out his elbow for me. "Ready?"
The song changes, our cue. I slide my arm through his. "Ready."
All we're doing is walking down the aisle together, but it feels like there's subtext to our words. A hidden message. Am I saying I'm ready to go all in with him?
Fuck, I don't know. And now's not the time to think about it.
We walk together toward where Gary is waiting next to Nana, who will do the ceremony. She's licensed to perform weddings in Wisconsin, and will do a combination of traditional American wedding things and witch handfasting rituals.
The ceremony itself is blessedly short. I catch myself looking at Zach several times. Appreciating exactly how well he fills out that tuxedo. The crowd is small, just family and a few close friends. Which for Gary and Zach isn't many people.
Near the end, I catch sight of my dad standing at the back of the crowd, along with Zach's mom and Maria. The three spirits look on as Mom and Gary say their vows, kiss each other, and Nana declares them joined in spirit and in life.
I can't quite tell from this distance, but I think maybe Dad's tearing up a little. Vanessa is covering her mouth with her hands.
As Zach and I walk back up the aisle together, I whisper, "Your mom's here. So is my dad."
Part of it is a test. Can he handle me talking about his mom? Because if he can't, I don't think we can work things out. The thought guts me, but I can't be with someone who questions my abilities. Hell, my livelihood.
"Yeah? They must be going to Paris after the wedding," is all he says. Then after a pause, "Does she look happy for them?"
I nod as we reach the end of the aisle and can drop arms. Except we don't. "She was crying, but I think they were happy, emotional tears."
He just nods, his expression neutral. Then he looks down at me, gaze intense. "Thank you for telling me."
My own emotions swell up, choking off my throat. He didn't shut me down. Which means there's hope for us.
I close my eyes and let that sink in. There's hope for us.
Today isn't the time. It's about Mom and Gary. But tomorrow, we can fix things. Even if it takes time to repair all the trust, I love him. And that's what matters.
We mingle on the lawn, talking with everyone, then Aunt Sarah, who is an excellent photographer, takes about a million pictures with every combination of people she can arrange. I fake-photo smile so much, by the end, I can't not smile. My cheeks twitch if I go back to my neutral expression.
So I'm standing by myself, grinning at nothing, when Zach finds me. "Would you like a ride over to the reception?"
The reception is being held at a banquet hall Goode Witches owns a few miles out of town. It's on the lake and has a cozy cottage feel. There will be more people at the reception than the ceremony, but still fairly small. I have friends from college who had three to five hundred people at their weddings. Mom's guest list was under a hundred.
Trying to make my smile look genuine, I say, "That sounds nice." I had been planning to ride with Sirona and Grant, but they can be sickeningly cute.
I ask him about work as he drives. His research team is working on a vaccine that would prevent adenocarcinoma—he has to define that for me; it's a type of cancer cell—tumors from growing. Essentially, a vaccine to prevent cancer.
"It's still very much in the research and development phase," he says. "We're years from having a marketable vaccine. But it'll happen. I know it will."
"It's great you're working on that," I say. "Not just another tech bro." My tone is teasing.
He chuckles. "No, not a tech bro. I don't think I'm a bro kinda guy."
He absolutely isn't. I wouldn't be with him if he were.
Once we get to the reception, there's more mingling. More relatives. Great aunts and second cousins from out of town. Friends Gary went to college with. So I repeat the same small talk several times. Finally dinner is ready and I can escape, kick my shoes off under the table, and not talk for a few minutes while I eat.
Zach is at a table with me, plus my sisters, Grant, and Evan. Mom and Gary have their own little table and they're being almost as sappy as Sirona and Grant. Feeding each other, leaning together and whispering, then laughing.
My gaze keeps drifting to Zach. Will that be us one day?
Then again, even if we are together, I don't see us as the cutesy, sappy types. I shudder. I don't want to be like that. It's so not me.
The moment we're done with the wedding cake and the DJ switches to dance music, Zach pops out of his seat and holds his hand out to me .
He's removed his jacket and rolled his sleeves to his elbows, and why is that so damn sexy? Especially with all his tattoos. My legs are truly shaky as I take his hand and stand.
It's not a slow song, but he pulls me into his arms and starts swaying with me, as if it is. "Have you told your sisters yet?" he murmurs as we move together.
I wasn't expecting him to bring that up tonight. "I haven't had a chance. I'm just not sure how." How do you tell your sisters that the mother you love and the grandma you adore used magic to cover up a magical death? I don't even know where to begin having that conversation.
"Did you tell your dad?"
He shakes his head, his chin bumping against my temple. "I didn't know how to either."
"So what do we do?" I whisper. "Do we keep it to ourselves?" I'm not sure I can do that. It's too big a secret to hide from my sisters.
"That doesn't feel right," he says.
"Keep what to yourselves?" Bronwen asks, startling both of us. She, Sabrina, and Evan are dancing next to us and apparently we weren't as quiet as we thought.
I shoot a panicked look up at Zach. He returns it.
Do I lie to her? Try to put her off?
If it were Sirona, I could tell her we'll talk tomorrow. But Bronwen won't let it go, I'm sure of that.
Zach makes a face that I interpret as "You might as well tell her now."
"OK, Bronwen, let's go have a chat. Evan, can you handle Sabrina for a few minutes?" He'll do just about anything for Bronwen, so it's barely a question.
Before he can answer, I grab Bronwen's wrist and pull her in the direction of the restrooms.
My feet are so happy I left my shoes under the table.
Out of the ballroom and where there are no other people, I stop and face my sister .
And I tell her. In the most condensed way possible, I tell her how Mom accidentally killed our dad. Which wouldn't be so bad, except that they used magic to make it look like a heart attack and covered it up all these years. Lied to us all these years.
As I talk, her eyes get bigger and bigger, until she looks like a cartoon princess. Her mouth literally drops open.
“So you’re telling me Mom and Nana have been covering up that Mom killed our dad? All these years—my entire life—they’ve lied to us?”
"I'm sorry, did you just say Angela killed Fred?"
Bronwen's eyes amazingly get even bigger as she looks over my shoulder. I turn to look over it too.
It's Gary. His face is turning red, his own eyes wide in surprise. "Tell me you didn't just say what I think you said."
I open my mouth but no words come out. Because I can't tell him what he wants to hear.
He looks stunned. Like I hit him with a sledgehammer. I suppose this is a bit of an emotional sledgehammer.
He swings his head around, looking from side to side.
Bronwen steps forward and puts a hand on his arm. "Gary, are you OK? Do you want to sit down?"
He looks at her almost like he doesn't recognize her.
Oh, this is bad. This is so not good. I'm a little stunned myself. What the fuck do I do after accidentally telling my mom's brand new husband that she killed her first one. Hey, Gary, don't worry, it was an accident. She won't come after you too. No, that's not going to cut it.
"I have to go. I can't be here."
Before Bronwen or I can stop him, he's across the room, heading for the doors leading out of the banquet hall.
I'm slow to react, so by the time my body catches up with my brain, by the time I take a few steps in his direction, he's gone. Out the doors into the night .
Bronwen and I stare at each other. Her look of horror matches how I feel.
"Did that just happen?" she asks.
"You mean did we just accidentally tell Gary that mom's a killer?"
She nods frantically.
"Yeah. Yeah, I think we did."
"At their wedding."
"At their wedding."
"And now he's gone."
"Yep. Now he's gone."
Well fuck.
ZACH
When Morgan and Bronwen come back to the dance floor, they both look stunned. Morgan's eyes are wide, her cheeks pink, and she looks like she just witnessed something horrible. Bronwen looks much the same.
Apparently telling her sister didn't go well.
Before I can ask what's wrong, she grabs my hand and starts pulling me in the direction she came from. "We need to talk."
I follow, almost having to jog to keep up. "I take it it didn't go well?"
She mumbles something that sounds like, "You have no idea," but I'm not positive.
We leave the ballroom and she pulls me across the lobby, then out the main doors. Only once we're several feet away from the building does she stop and turn to face me.
"So here's the thing." She sounds breathless, like she's run a long way. "When I was telling Bronwen about what's in the Grimoire pages, someone else overheard me. "
OK, yeah, that's not great. But it doesn't seem like it should reach the level of panic I feel radiating from her. "I'm sorry that happened." I don't know what else to say.
She grabs my wrist, squeezing to where it's just shy of painful. "No. It's really bad. Like really, really bad."
"Did your mom hear?"
She shakes her head. "Worse. It was your dad."
Everything inside me freezes for a moment. She wouldn't be this panicked unless my dad heard— "What exactly did he hear you say?"
"The part where my mom killed my dad and covered it up." Her eyes are frantic.
I feel my own go as wide and frantic as hers. "So my dad knows... all of it?"
She nods.
"Fuuuuuuuuck." It's not like Angela is a serial killer who's going after him next. But still, no one wants to find out at their wedding reception that their wife committed what I think, legally, would be manslaughter. Not that I'm a legal expert.
"Where did he go? I should talk to him." A few of his work buddies came, but he's not close confidants with any of them. I'm the only family he has.
"He left, Zach."
"Left, as in walked outside?"
"Left, as in walked outside and headed straight for the parking lot."
Somehow, my brain is still managing to function to some degree even though I've now reached Morgan's level of panic. My heart is pounding so hard, it's going to rip through my chest.
I turn and speed walk to the lot. I hear Morgan's bare feet slapping the asphalt path behind me. She has to jog to keep up.
We get to the lot, and sure enough, there's an empty space where my dad parked his car earlier .
Shit. This is not good. I scrub my hands over my face, trying to think. But there's chaos in my head now, too many thoughts whirling for me to settle on any particular one.
Morgan's hand on my shoulder is a welcome comfort. In the back of my mind, I'm aware that things are still unsettled between us. But I appreciate her being here with me. So I cover her hand with mine and squeeze a little.
"Thank you," I say.
"Of course." She steps closer to me, her body a breath away from mine. I want to pull her into my arms and just hold her. Until this dazed, frantic feeling passes.
"You should call him," she suggests.
"Good idea." I pull out my phone. It rings several times, then goes to voicemail. So I open a text message.
Me: Dad, where are you? Call me?
"Do we tell my mom what happened? Or do we cover for him and stall her and hope he comes back?" Morgan sighs. "They're supposed to do the light show soon. She's going to notice he's missing."
I look up and meet her gaze. There's a streetlamp near where we're standing in the lot, casting her face in shadows. "I don't know."
She laughs humorlessly. "This is one hell of a clusterfuck, isn't it?"
I can only nod. "It really is."
"We need Sirona. She's great in a crisis." She pulls out her phone and sends a flurry of texts.
"Come on, we're meeting them by the gazebo." She starts off down a gravel path.
By “them,” Morgan means her sisters, Grant, and Evan. Someone else must be watching Sabrina. Morgan fills Sirona, Grant, and Evan in on what she's found, and is uncharacteristically empathetic as she lets them, especially Sirona, absorb the information.
"Gary overheard me telling Bronwen. And he left. His car's gone, he didn't answer his phone, we don't know where he went. And I don't know what to do."
"Don't suppose you have your phones set up to track each other's locations, do you?" Evan asks.
I frown at him. "No, why would I have that for my dad?"
Evan shrugs. "I figured it couldn't hurt to ask."
"The light show is soon," Sirona says. "Mom will notice he's gone."
Their grandma, Aunt Sarah, and Aunt Betsy have been preparing some kind of magical light show. Like a fireworks show, but magical and better for the environment. Hazel has been ridiculously excited about it.
"Do we care?" Bronwen has a bitter edge to her voice. "She fucking killed our dad. And then lied to us about it for our entire lives."
Yeah, I'm pretty pissed at her too. But that's something to deal with another time. When there isn't an immediate crisis of a missing groom.
"We have to tell her," Grant says. "There's no way to sugar coat any of this."
"Serves her right," Bronwen mumbles.
Is Morgan feeling the same anger toward her mom? If I am, surely she is. I reach over and put my hand on the small of her back. Reassuring her that I'm here. We're in this together.
At least for now. And if I have my way, for a long time to come.
I can see the toll this is taking on her; she's starting to get circles under her eyes, she chews on her lips a lot more. I want to help take away that stress for her.
Dammit, this timing, in terms of me and Morgan, is terrible. I'd worked up a good apology-slash-grovel while getting ready, and I planned to find time at the reception to pull her aside and deliver it. And, of course, tell her again how much I love her. That I fucked up, but I want to be with her .
But if there's anything I can take away from this, it's that everything can blow up in an instant. So I'm not waiting around for the perfect moment to tell her. Before tonight is over, I will find a time to talk to her.
And hope like hell she feels the same.
"Grant's right," Evan says. "The sooner you tell your mom, the better."
For good measure, I pull my phone out and try calling my dad again. "Voicemail."
"We'll go," Sirona says, pointing at Bronwen and Morgan. "She doesn't need all of us around."
"You sure, babe?" Grant gives her a kiss on the temple.
I wish I could do the same to Morgan.
Sirona nods. "Morgan and Bronwen are the ones who saw him leave, and I'll be there for moral support."
Morgan reaches for my hand and squeezes it. "I'll find you when we're done talking to her?"
Her expression is grim, but I can't help offering a small smile. It means something that she's going to come find me after. Returning the hand squeeze, I nod, then release her.
"You got this," I say as she moves to follow her sisters out of the gazebo. "I'll wait for you here."
She looks over her shoulder and gives me a small, wicked smile that warms me from head to toe.