Chapter Thirty-One
Effie…
Everyone is here. Leona and her (formerly) secret husband, Erik. Tilda and her boyfriend, Gil. Juniper is standing off to the side near where Nikos disappeared, her ponytail mostly still high and bouncy, while Bea has the satisfied look of a woman who just cleaned someone’s clock.
“All went well with Kyle and his friends?” I ask.
“I sent them home early without dessert,” she says, cryptic as always.
Juniper joins us with that faraway look in her eyes that she gets when she’s working on translating an ancient spell.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
She blinks a few times before giving me a grin as she shoves what looks like Nikos’s medallion into her pocket. “Fine. Just doing some mental math. They have some incredibly interesting ancient runes here.”
Usually, I’d follow up to find out what she’s up to, but these aren’t usual times. For example, my dad and the man I love are currently facing off in some sort of shifter showdown while my mother rolls her eyes.
Looking around at my family and now my pack mixing and mingling, I finally understand that the Sherwood family magic didn’t mean I wasn’t worthy of being the heir when it bypassed me. It just meant that I had a different path.
I am the heart witch, and I will bring the werewolves and the witches together to take on the Council.
All this may not have been fated, but the path had already been laid, and I’d chosen to take it. I look up at Darius, and he’s looking back at me with so much love on his face that it makes my breath catch.
I wasn’t rejected. I was only waiting to meet my pack, my love.
“Is this where I’m supposed to make the outlaw-for-an-in-law joke?” Dad asks, putting some extra bear shifter gruffness into his tone.
My mom lets out a sigh. “Stop trying to scare your future son-in-law.”
“It’s a father’s prerogative,” he argues, puffing up his chest, which is massive even without the posturing.
“And a mother’s prerogative is to enjoy the way her husband looks in a tuxedo at their daughter’s wedding.”
Dad gives her a flirty wink. “You like me in a tux, huh?”
“Every man looks good in a tuxedo,” she practically purrs. “You look phenomenal.”
“Ugggghhhhhhh,” all of us Sherwood sisters groan as a single unit.
I shoot Darius a sorry-for-all-this look, but he seems fascinated and not the least bit weirded out by the family interplay. This is good, because this will be pretty much how every family get-together will go from here to eternity.
“I’ll wear a tux, but only if I get to walk my pumpkin down the aisle”—he cuts a glance at Darius, who he’s said all of ten words to and about a million about—“so I can bare my teeth at that wolf while we’re up close and personal.”
“Daddy,” I groan.
“Fine,” he says, almost looking properly sheepish. “There will be no baring of the teeth.”
Mom claps her hands together, centering everyone’s attention. “So shall we get this show on the road? Girls, I’m assuming you brought the cauldron with you?”
“Of course,” Bea says as she snaps her fingers, and the Sherwood cauldron appears in front of them.
“Shall we?” We all grab hands, and Mom is about to lead the wedding chant when she stops. “No, this isn’t right. We’re missing someone. Darius, come over here. If we’re going to be family, we might as well do all this together.”
“I’m not a witch,” he says as he hangs back.
“Neither am I, but it never gets me out of any of this magic stuff,” Dad says with a conspiratorial wink. “It’s usually fun, unless it’s one of the spells that involves frog toenails. The smell is worse than a hockey jersey after a game that goes into six overtimes.”
Darius chuckles. “Good to know.”
“There are no frog toenails in this one,” Mom says.
“Only something old.” Her great-grandmother’s favorite pair of earrings appears in the cauldron.
“Something new.” The moto jacket I got the day before I left to help Leona pops up in the cauldron.
“Something borrowed.” Juniper’s favorite pink lipstick bobs up out of the swirling purple mist in the pot.
“And something blue.” One of Barkley’s feathers with a cobalt streak in it materializes in the smoke.
“Now, everyone, send your best wishes to the happy couple to be.”
I’m not sure what to do here. I mean, I am part of the happy couple to be, and right now, it feels like all the wishes I’ve ever had have come true. Then my wolf lifts up her head and howls, taking care of that part for us.
At first, there’s nothing. Darius shoots me a well-that-was-weird look (honestly, I can’t blame him, our family is a little odd).
Then there’s a rumble followed by the ground shaking once, twice, three times.
Then the familiar scents of Jordan almonds, vanilla wedding cake, and fresh-cut flower bouquets fill the air half a second before all three appear.
But that’s not all. The gazebo is suddenly covered in honeysuckles in bloom even though this is totally not the season for that.
There are wood benches for folks to sit in.
A jazz band is set up on Main Street, and Aunt Artemis herself is waiting on the gazebo steps for us.
“I didn’t send out a request for Atropos to attend,” my mother says, because of course she knows who Artemis really is.
“Maybe not,” I say as Darius and I exchange a knowing look, “but she wouldn’t miss this for the world.”
Only a few short minutes later, I’m decked out in a sleek white silk gown I magicked up for myself and am walking up the steps of the gazebo with my dad. He kisses the top of my head and manages to offer only the tiniest of snarls to Darius before taking his seat next to Mom.
When Darius slips the purple twine ring on my finger and I do the same with his ring, it’s all I can do to keep the happy tears at bay. My life is as unexpectedly perfect as it could ever be. Who could ask for more than that?
We make it through three whole dances at the reception before Darius hooks a finger in my belt loop (you know I made sure to add those to my dress) and pulls me close. I melt against him as he dips his head down and kisses the shell of my ear.
“Ready to be carried over the threshold?”
Oh yeah, like as soon as we exchanged the I dos. “Yes, please.”
He scoops me up and walks down Main Street to the community clubhouse—home of the ginormous bed, to-die-for shower, and fabulous couch where you could binge-watch all sixty seasons of Witchy 911.
“We’re spending our wedding night in the clubhouse?” I’m not totally against it, but it’s definitely not the wedding night I was hoping for.
“I may have lied about that,” Darius says, a slight pinkish hue to the tips of his ears.
“May have lied?”
“Okay, I did lie,” he says. “It’s my house.”
I let out a surprised gasp. “But the bed—”
“Hasn’t been used for an orgy in years.” He brushes his lips across mine in a quick kiss that promises so much more. “However, I do plan on using every inch of it tonight to show you how glad I am that you said yes.”
Then he carries me inside and kicks the door shut behind us. The rest is magic.
What can I say? I’m a very lucky woman with a very talented husband.