Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

"Is Finn here?" I asked, stalling.

Now that the moment was at hand, I was finding it harder to just come out and ask Poppy for help. I knew she would help me, of course. Furthermore, Poppy wasn't physically capable of mocking anyone, but even after repeated attempts, talking about this sort of thing still felt like baring my soft underbelly to someone yielding a very sharp blade.

Poppy shook her head. "No. He's with some friends—one of his classmates is having kind of a rough time with school, so Finn's trying to help."

Never one for hiding her emotions, Poppy's expression was as clear as glass. I could see the pride she had for her son. But there was more there than just pride—there was worry too. While I knew Poppy was happy that her son was shaping up to be every bit the do-gooder that his mother was, it wasn't all smiles and rainbows.

Working with Andre seemed to be helping him, but Finn's ability for magic was fast outstripping his body's capability. The fact was, the magic was draining Finn, leaving him exhausted and even unconscious if he wasn't careful to pace himself properly. And Poppy, who was normally all for doing the right thing—like kissing babies, escorting old ladies across the street, whatever it was nice people did, Finn was still only fifteen. And Poppy was so chock full of maternal instinct that she was incapable of not fussing over him.

She was trying to rein it in, though, so good for her. Finn was a teenager, and being nagged by your mother did have an expiration on effectiveness, so best to save it for when the subject in question was really important.

But Finn not being here at the moment was a good thing, as far as I was concerned. Why? Because it meant there weren't any eavesdropping ears in the backroom—eavesdropping ears that might play witness to one of my more embarrassing moments. I didn't need anything getting back to Lorcan, or Maverick, or Goddess forbid, Astrid. I'd never hear the end of it.

The only other customer in the store, a middle-aged woman in a dark blue raincoat with an obnoxiously yellow umbrella folded and hung over her arm, had drifted a little too close to the register area. Suspiciously close. Close enough to overhear embarrassing conversations between besties.

I glared at her silently, but she didn't make any motion to take a hike. No, she was obviously very interested in the money fortune candle that Poppy had displayed on a nearby shelf. I had to admit, the little flecks of gold foil folded through the creamy wax of the candle was an eye-catching touch.

Eventually the dope must have felt my eyes on her, because she glanced up, saw my expression, and blanched before ducking down the next aisle and out of hearing range. Poppy gave me a disappointed look, but I was too satisfied to let it get to me. Of course, once I had Poppy's undivided attention, and all the nosy eavesdroppers had finally shoved off, I was suddenly feeling an emotion that my own pride absolutely refused to recognize as embarrassment. The flush slowly climbing into my face was frustration based, obviously. I cleared my throat to buy myself some time, while Poppy's expression grew steadily more concerned.

I just had to blurt it out. Just let it rip, like yanking off a bandaid. Lingering on the topic was both painful and annoying. So, I took a deep breath. And another one. And another after that.

"Wanda? What was the advice you needed?" Poppy prodded me.

Right. "Ahem, if I wanted to plan an… event…"

"An event?"

I nodded. "Yeah, something to celebrate an important date, what might be a good way to do that?"

There, that was good, right? Poppy was super familiar with all things soft and gushy and lovey dovey and romantic—all things that made my teeth itch. Regardless, she'd be able to steer me right.

Poppy blinked, her brows pinched together. "An event? Like a party?"

I could have slapped myself and then her. Apparently, we were going to drag this out.

My eyes narrowed. "No. Not like a party." What about this wasn't she getting?

"Okay, then?"

"Well, sort of like a party," I backtracked. "Or rather, a party for only two people."

"Oh." Poppy's eyes widened, and she clapped her hands over her mouth, just barely holding back the squeal that tried to burst out. "Oh! Wanda, are you planning a… a date?"

"Shhh!" I glanced around, but yellow umbrella was still hovering near the back of the store and I was pretty sure she was out of hearing distance. Even so, I still didn't want this info broadcasted. "Keep your voice down, jeez Louise."

A flush crawled up Poppy's cheeks, so at least we were both blushing now. "Sorry, sorry," she started. "It's just… well, planning dates isn't usually your thing, so I'm excited for you."

Yeah, not ‘usually my thing' did sum it up pretty well.

Ugh. Why the spell was this so hard? Was I really so incapable of basic intimacy that I had to get a statistical sample of ideas before I could take my husband on a freaking date?

It seemed so.

Poppy clasped her hands in front of her chest, her eyes as big and sparkly as a cartoon character's. "So, what's the occasion?"

"Oh," I said lamely, scrambling and trying desperately not to look like I was. "It's, uh, the anniversary of when… Lorcan and I decided to make it—you know, official." I cleared my throat.

"You mean when you got married?" Poppy asked, eyeing me with amusement.

"Right."

"Wanda, it's okay for you to say the word."

"I know that," I almost spat back at her. "But that doesn't mean I like to."

"So… you have an anniversary coming up?" Poppy correctly guessed.

"Right." I took a deep breath. "And get this!" I continued, leaning forward, incensed just remembering it. "Lorcan forgot about it."

"What?" Poppy gasped and shook her head like this was the worst possible thing imaginable. "No."

"He did! He told me so himself!"

"If he told you, then how did he forget?"

"No, he said he had a dental surgery booked that night. Can you believe that?"

Maybe the sarcastic air quotes were a bit much but come on. Witches didn't even have relationships, let alone marriage, and even I'd managed to write our anniversary down somewhere. Yet, our anniversary had slipped his mind? I mean, Lorcan had three separate date books for work, personal life, and vampire stuff, for crying out loud! And yet I hadn't made it into any of them? Unbelievable.

Poppy bit her lower lip, looking genuinely distressed. "I'm so sorry, Wanda. Do you want me to say something to him?"

"No, I don't want you to say something to him!"

She looked a little perplexed at that. "Well, why not?"

"Because think of the miles I'll get out of this," I answered, shaking my head.

"Miles?" She looked genuinely confused.

"Yeah, he'll owe me for a year—at the very least."

She made a face, but she couldn't exactly refute my point.

I grinned, folding my arms so I could lean on the counter. "Don't you dare say one word to him."

"Wanda," Poppy laughed, trying and failing to look scandalized. "That's so mean. Why not just remind him? I'm sure he'll be really upset with himself when you bring it to his attention."

"Right—as well he should be."

"So—why not just tell him?"

"I just told you why. Keep up." I shifted my weight to the other hip, leaning in. "So, what do you think about planning the ultimate anniversary date? It's got to be amazing, epic." I felt my lips breaking into a wide smile as I started nodding to myself. "I'm going to win at dating if it's the last thing I do."

That at least managed to get Poppy to stop fighting the laughter that was so clearly bubbling up inside her. But a few seconds later, she rolled her eyes, now gently exasperated. "It's not a competition, Wanda. You don't win at dating."

"Maybe youdon't." I tossed my hair back.

"Okay, okay," she said, holding up her hands in faux submission.

"So… come on. What have you got for me?"

She let out a long breath as one finger rose to tap at her lower lip, her face brightening as she thought about it. "What about a walk along the beach?"

"Seriously?" I asked, shaking my head. "Have you been chatting with Olga?"

"Olga?" she repeated, looking lost.

"Yeah, she brought up the exact same thing—go for a walk on the beach."

Poppy smiled. "Well, with the salt air, and the sea birds, and the sounds of the waves on the shore? It would be magical." She paused for a moment. "But at night, of course."

My nose wrinkled up. "The beach is kind of far away. And we wouldn't be able to be there for sunset or whatever you're picturing, because of, you know, the sun. Plus, what's so romantic about cold breezes and sand in your toes? You know that stuff has a way of working up into other crevices of your body and no one wants sand in their crack."

Poppy blinked, clearly taken aback. "Only you would think of that."

"Still a good point, though."

She nodded. "The beach at night can be a little spooky, too. Hmm." She tapped her finger some more, and I shifted my weight onto my back foot. These were one of my favorite pairs of boots, but they were made for looking gorgeous, not for being comfortable, and my feet were starting to ache.

I knew the next suggestion wasn't going to be much better, seeing how dewy Poppy's eyes grew, but nothing could be worse than the idea of slogging through cold, wet dunes, ruining my nails and getting sand in all sorts of unmentionable places.

"What about a picnic?" Poppy asked. "Andre, Finn and I had the best picnic the other day, right out back in the cemetery behind the house. They set it up and it was a lovely surprise. What about something like that?"

"I mean…" I stared at Poppy, feeling a bit like I was about to kick a puppy asking for tummy rubs, but seriously? "Lorcan doesn't eat, Poppy."

She nodded. "Oh, right. There is that."

"Not to mention that a Blood Witch and a Vampire hanging around in a cemetery seems like the start to a bad joke."

"There is that," she laughed.

"Right—way too cliche, and basically just another day at work."

Her shoulders rounded forward, and Poppy looked crestfallen. "The picnic idea doesn't have to be in a cemetery," she said in a small voice. "But, yes, I see what you mean, since Lorcan doesn't eat."

An unpleasant feeling coiled through my stomach, cold and greasy. It wasn't guilt because I refused to allow it to be. I had nothing to feel guilty about. Poppy might be all butterflies and rainbows about her blossoming romance with Andre, and she might think it was the height of romance to hold hands in the high school auditorium, or whatever the kids were doing these days, but I was looking for something with a little more… pizazz.

Yes, I was definitely the Rizzo to her Sandy.

An awkward silence hung in the air for a second, and I could clearly hear the click of the other customer setting a potion bottle back onto the shelf. Just when I was about to make up some excuse and leave, Poppy drummed her fingers against the heavy wood of the counter.

"What if," she started, slowly, like she was picking her way through tangled shrubs. "You get a little creative with the traditional bits?"

When I gave her a puzzled look, she continued.

"I know Lorcan can't eat, so your usual dinner and a movie isn't going to work out well. But… what if you did some kind of meal where he couldeat something?"

"He can't eat," I said and shook my head, wondering if inhaling all those potions she made everyday had finally gotten to her head.

"Well, are you really sure?"

"Um, he's a vampire, Poppy."

"Right—which means he consumes blood. Sooooo… what about something blood-based like blood pudding? Is it possible that he could eat that? Or, I don't know, blood sorbet or something similar—something made from blood?"

I wasn't sure how I felt about blood pudding in general, never mind feeding it to Lorcan, but I had to admit, a twist on a classic did appeal to me. Thinking outside the box—that was what I'd been trying to do, and I liked the ideas Poppy was giving me. Something that Lorcan could actually participate in, something he didn't get to do most of the time…

"You know…" I leaned forward against the counter, excitement bubbling up within me. "That gives me a couple of ideas."

I needed some paper, something to write all of this down before it all slipped back out of my head. I glanced around, but other than the receipt book on the counter, there was nothing. I did grab a pen that had been sitting there, half tempted to scribble on the wood of the counter itself. The vague thoughts rolling around in my head were taking shape, forming into something, and I was starting to feel real excitement.

Oh, this was going to be good. I'd known Poppy would have an answer for me.

So, of course, with my mood now riding high and a surge of hope flowing through me, disaster decided to strike.