The Matchbaker (A Romantic Comedy) (24 page)

“But?”

“But she had a boyfriend. Well, maybe not a boyfriend. But a guy who she was definitely hung up on. Only, come to find out, she wasn’t actually allowed to be hung up on him. They couldn’t be together.”

“He was magic?” I say, trying to piece things together since my dad is being way too slow and cryptic for my taste.

Dad nods. “He was. Only your mother wasn’t twenty-nine yet, so she didn’t know she was magic. She didn’t know about any of this stuff. She just knew she was in love with this guy. Of course, the guy knew what was going on, and as much as he wanted to pursue things with your mom, he knew he couldn’t.”

I’m on the edge of the bed now, leaning forward, desperate to hear how this ends. “So what happened?”

Dad runs a hand through his salt and pepper hair. “I’m not proud of this, Candy, but there wasn’t another choice.”

My pulse is racing. “Did you
kill
him?”

Dad cocks his head and squints—his expression is one of sheer confusion. “Kill him? Has my daughter gone insane? Of course I didn’t kill anyone.”

“Oh.” I shrug sheepishly. “Sorry. Guess I got a little over excited.”

“The thing is…the guy your mom was in love with was one of the most powerful warlocks in town—still is.”

My gut is churning. Oh, my God. “I’m repeating history, aren’t I?” I say, dumbfounded by my realization. “It was Joe, Sr., wasn’t it?”

Dad nods gravely. “It was. And a while after I’d met your mother, he came to me asking for my help. He’d seen how much I liked Dottie, and he thought we’d be a good pair. To be honest, it should have been the happiest day of my life. He was basically handing her to me on a silver platter.”

“But how? You can’t just make a person fall in love with you.”

Crap.

“Never mind. Forget I said that. Momentary memory lapse. Or maybe selective memory. Not really my finest moment.”

Dad smiles and winks at me. “Don’t worry. I sometimes forget what’s possible in this world too. At any rate, Joe prepared a coffee for your mom one day. I’ll never forget it. I’ve never seen him so sad in my life. He loved her, you know? Very much. And that’s why I couldn’t be completely happy with my own newfound love.”

“But the spell? It made her fall in love with you?”

“Yup. But not only that, it erased all memories of her time with Joe. Kisses shared, walks through the park, romantic dinners…all of it. Gone. And in their place were fabricated memories.”

I furrow my brow, confused. “What do you mean?”

“Joe and I came up with a back story for us—your mom and I. That we fell in love in high school, we parted ways during college but found one another again when we returned to Sagehaven. In an instant, all those memories were hers, and we’ve lived happily ever after.”

I can’t help but feel a little sad about this. Poor Mom. She has no idea that all her memories of Dad are fabricated. Illusions. “No regrets?”

Dad sighs and looks away. “Not anymore. I lived with a lot of guilt in the beginning. But how can I have regrets after almost thirty-five years of marital bliss and two beautiful daughters? I moved on, and so did Joe.”

“Have you ever thought about telling Mom?”

“No,” Dad says sharply. “This is a secret that stays between us, Candy.” The tone of the conversation has changed. Dad is really serious, and he’s probably wondering if he should have confided in me in the first place.

I nod. “I know, Dad. I’m not interested in stirring up drama in my own family. I just want to find a way to break this stupid curse.”

“You could lose your magic, you know?”

I nod again. “I know.” Part of me would gladly part with my magic. It’s been nothing but a curse for the most part. Yet another part of me is reluctant to give it up. It
does
help people, and it is kind of cool. But I’d rather have Joe than magic. A few months ago, I would have felt differently. I know that. I would have taken power over a man any day. But that was before I knew
this
man.

If only I could guarantee I would be the only one to lose my powers, I’d gladly take one for the team. But there is no guarantee.

“Are you sure that’s something you’re willing to part with?” Dad presses. “You’re the fourth generation of baking witches. Are you prepared to end the line completely?”

The tenderness in his voice gives me pause. He’s not being judgy or demanding, but he’s trying to help me come to the right conclusion. His question implies there might be a bit of selfishness behind my decision, and to be honest, there is selfishness behind
most
of my decisions. I’ve always looked out for myself. Who else would do it if I didn’t? But I want to change. I’m just not sure how to go about it.

I put my face in my hand and then rub my forehead. I’m so tired and frustrated, I don’t know what I’m prepared to do. “I don’t know, Dad. All I know is I want to have my cake and eat it too. I want everyone to keep their powers—
and
their memories—and I want to be with Joe.”

“But we can’t always have everything, Candy.”

Dad stands and I stare up at him, towering above me. I want to cry. The exhaustion is setting in. I can’t think of anything but the worst-case scenario right now.

I nod my understanding, and then Dad leans down to kiss me on the top of my head before he heads back up the creaky stairs to bed. I’m not usually one to admit defeat, but in this case, I’m wondering if it might be time to throw in the towel. At least I know someone can erase my brief memories of my time with Joe, should it come to that. The thought makes my heart ache. I don’t want to forget him. I just want to live happily ever after.

Twenty-three

A loud banging wakes me from a deep sleep and sets my heart to racing. Damn it! I hate waking up this way. I prefer to ease slowly out of my slumber, maybe click on the TV and listen to an early-morning infomercial while I savor the warmth of my covers.

This
is not one of those mornings.

I prop myself up on my elbows and stare at the basement door that leads to the outside. Is she seriously banging that loudly at—I squint at the clock on the cable box—five o’clock in the morning? I have another half hour before my alarm goes off, darn her!

“Candy, are you up?” My sister’s voice comes through the door.

Does she have no regard for the other people who might be asleep in the house? Since
I
do, I throw the covers off and jump out of bed to open the door. Holly looks like she hasn’t slept all night, and Colin is standing right behind her, the same purple bags under his eyes too.

“Good morning,” I say, my voice tinged with annoyance. “Thanks for the wake-up call.”

“You can be mad at me all you want,” Holly says, brushing past me into the basement.

“How much coffee has she had?” I ask Colin as he crosses the threshold.

“Coffee? Ha! We moved on to Red Bull hours ago.”

The only thing worse than Holly is Holly on Red Bull. She’s wired enough as it is, but to put her on stimulants…Oh, Lord.

“What are you doing?” I ask, as she gathers dirty clothes and dishes and starts putting them into neat piles to be dealt with.

“This place is a mess. You used to be so tidy. What happened to you?”

“Is that why you came here at five in the morning? To clean my room?”

“Of course not.” She didn’t offer any other information while she hung and folded my clothes and returned shoes to the little closet. “I just can’t believe you treat your Jimmy Choos this way.”

“Holly!” I’ve had enough. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, right. Sorry.” She slams the door to the closet and rounds the couch to stand in front of me. “I’ve had an idea.”

“Congratulations,” I return, with no small amount of sarcasm.

“Thank you,” she says, as if I’d congratulated her in all seriousness. “I got to thinking, we’re not the only magical family in this town.”

Silence.

“Is this pause for dramatic effect? Because I gotta be honest,” I lean in to whisper, “I already knew that.”

“Right. But did it ever occur to you that each family has their own book of spells?”

“I guess.” I’m confused, but slightly curious where my sister is going with this.

“Just because
our
book of spells doesn’t say anything about this particular part of the curse doesn’t mean someone else’s won’t.”

She has a point. “But these are heavily guarded secrets, Hol. We lived in this house our entire lives and only recently found our own book of spells. How in the world are we going to get people to hand over these family heirlooms?”

“With this.”

Holly pulls out a pink order slip from the bakery and hands it to me.
One dozen Gimme Gimmes.
It’s a killer cupcake, basically a mudslide, with Kahlua-infused chocolate frosting in the center and on top. It’s called Gimme Gimme for two reasons: 1) That’s what everyone says when you present it to them and 2) That’s what everyone
does
after they’ve had a few. They loosen up and give you whatever you’ve asked for, though I’m not sure if it’s the spell that does it or the lowered inhibitions after all the alcohol.

“Uh-uh. No way,” I say, shaking my head and trying to shove the order form right back at her. “I’m not going through that again. I’ve already been humiliated once for using my magic for selfish gain. Not gonna do it again.”

“But it’s not for you. Look at the name.”

Colin Hawthorne.

“It’s not gonna work,” I insist.

“How do you know?” Holly shoots back. “You’re not making them for you, you’re making them for him. And that’s where your involvement ends. Colin and I will handle the rest.”

I’ve got that sick, uneasy feeling in my gut. I don’t like it, but my sister has a point. If we can get our hands on those other spell books, we might find something valuable that can help us.

I slump onto the pull-out with a moan. “I can’t believe I’m about to say yes to this.”

“Yes!” Holly is jumping up and down.

“But on one condition,” I shout over her excitement. She stops and looks at me. “No. More. Red Bull.”

~*~

“Well, that was a bust.”

I toss the last of the spell books into the pile on the floor and slump back in my seat with a sigh. Once Holly had successfully acquired all the spell books (which took a nerve-wracking and painstaking two days), we set to studying each and every one just as we’d done with our own.

It’s late on Saturday night, and the spark of hope I’d felt when Holly returned with ten of the eleven spell books we needed from resident magical families is starting to wane. Doubts are creeping in. Doubts about Joe and me. We haven’t spoken in a while. I can’t bring myself to step foot in the coffee shop, and he must feel the same way, as he hasn’t darkened the bakery’s doorstep either. The last time we spoke was when he gave his apology speech through the basement door.

What if he’s moved on? What if my non-response drove him away for good and he’s already dating again?

Not that we were really dating. I mean, we never made it official or anything. Which is probably a good thing. It’ll make it much easier to let go if we’re forced to separate.

“Earth to Candy!”

I snap back to attention to find Holly snapping her fingers in front of my face.

“Sorry,” I say. “I must have zoned out.”

“Ya think?” She sits back down in her chair on the other side of the table. Colin is next to her, having been granted permission to participate in the search finally. I think it was mainly because Mom and Dad were getting tired and just wanted to have an evening to themselves. I can’t blame them.

“So what do we do now?” Colin asks as he stacks the books into a neat pile.

“Well…” Holly looks at me with trepidation in her eyes.

“What?” I furrow my brow in confusion. “What is it?”

Holly clears her throat. “There is one last book out there,” she says with a little wince.

My whole body tenses. I don’t know why I didn’t realize it before. I knew we were short a book, but until just now—until that apprehensive look on Holly’s face—it hadn’t occurred to me whose book it was.

“Well, did you try?” I ask, wondering if they even attempted to go to 275 Mockingbird Lane.

Holly shakes her head. “It was a little…intimidating.”

“Tell me about it.” I would’ve turned away from that monstrosity of a house too.

“There’s only one way to get it.”

“Break in and steal it!” I suggest hopefully.

“Come on, Candy,” Holly says, her tone cajoling. “Just go talk to him. I mean, this is all for him, anyway, isn’t it? All so the two of you can be together. Why not let him in on the gig?”

She has a point. She seems to be making a lot of those lately. But why am I so nervous to see him? I mean, it is all for him. Shouldn’t I make sure he wants to be with me before I go to all this trouble?

“I had this perfect plan that I’d find the anecdote first, I guess. But that’s silly. Wouldn’t we be stronger together?” My voice doesn’t sound as sure as I want it to be.

“Exactly!” Holly exclaims. “Two heads, and all that. Right?”

“Right,” I mutter under my breath.

“Go on.” Holly tugs on my hand and pulls me out of my chair. “He’s probably closing up right about now. Hurry before he leaves.”

A few minutes later, I’m standing on the sidewalk, watching Joe wipe down the counters through the window. My hands are shaking as I push the door to the coffee shop open. It’s empty, other than him, so it’s good timing. I just wish my hands weren’t sweating so much.

Joe looks up when the little bell dings above my head, and it takes him a second to respond.

“Hey!” His eyes light up when he sees me, and his voice sounds eager and pleased, which sends shot of relief through me.

“Hey,” I reply as he rounds the counter and comes to the middle of the shop to greet me. It’s awkward. We haven’t spoken or seen one another since the tribunal. Still, I can’t help wanting to wrap my arms around him.

“I’ve…I’ve missed you.” His voice is deep and sincere now.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I’m afraid to admit I’ve missed him too. What if we get further into this only to discover there’s no cure for this stupid curse? I’m not so sure my heart could take it.

“I know,” I practically whisper. “Me too.”

There. I said it without actually saying the words. That makes it better, doesn’t it?

“Listen, we need to talk.”

I hold up my hand to stop him before he goes on. “I know. And we will, I promise. But before we do…God, this sounds so stupid.” I tuck my hair behind my ear nervously and Joe reaches up to grab my shoulders. His gentle touch shoots through me, and I wish we didn’t have a curse to deal with before we could go further than simple touching.

“What is it?”

I suck in a breath. “We need your family’s book of spells.”

He drops his hands and stares at me curiously for a moment. “Oh, my God,” he finally says, a bit breathless. “Why didn’t we think of this before?”

“Well,” I say, “
we
did. Holly, Colin and I have been scouring the books of spells from everyone in town. Everyone except—”

“My family’s,” he finishes. “There’s good reason too. Dad’s had that thing locked up for I don’t know how long. I’ve seen it once in my entire life.”

I can’t help but be surprised. “Once?”

“It’s gotta be in there,” he says, choosing to bypass the topic of why his father only let him see it one time in his thirty-ish years. “The problem is…how do we get it?”

“The book?”

“It’s in a safe, in the wall of his study.”

Of course. Where else would an old, rich warlock keep his book of spells? God, listen to me. Talking about spell books and warlocks. It’s still so surreal, but I don’t have time to dwell on just how bizarre it all is.

“Well, isn’t he dying?” I say and then realize just how insensitive that sounds. “I’m so sorry. I just—”

Joe gives a little chuckle. “Don’t worry about it. It’s not like we’re that close. You do make a point, though. The book will undoubtedly be left to me in the will.”

“Well, someone like your father would already have it written up, wouldn’t he?”

We stare at each other for a moment, the tension so palpable you could cut it with a knife. I want to pounce on him, kiss him, tear his clothes off with my teeth—my body is shaking with the effort of standing still.

“What are you suggesting?” he finally asks.

I bite the inside of my cheek. No way am I going to be the one to suggest we break into his dad’s lawyer’s office to hunt for this thing. I give a nonchalant shrug, trying my best to play it cool. “I don’t know,” I reply, my voice choked by all the emotions coursing through my body right now. “Do
you
have any ideas?”

Joe sucks in a breath, puffing up his chest, clad only in a tight, white t-shirt. Oh, my God. Can a human combust spontaneously? Because I definitely feel like I could at this point.

I look away while I wait for him to answer. All the chairs have been put on top of the café tables, the lights are dimmed—the whole place has a sort of eerie feeling after closing.

“Candy, we can’t.” His voice is gruff and resigned, and my spirits deflate as well. I can’t pressure him to do something he’s not comfortable with.

I nod, still avoiding eye contact. “I know,” I say, trying to sound less dejected than I feel. “We’ll find another way to get the book.”

There’s a chuckle from Joe and I look up to see his amused smile and playful eyes glimmering at me in the semi-darkness. “I didn’t mean that. I meant…” Are his cheeks turning red? “I just thought that you were…”

I squint, confused. “What?”

“I saw you eyeing my—” He gestures to his torso, so ripped and taunting under his t-shirt, and I struggle to keep the saliva in my mouth. “You know. I just thought you were getting another idea altogether.”

Heat infuses my cheeks. Oh, my God. I want to crawl in a hole and never come out. And what do I say to him? Do I play it off or will that make him feel badly about himself? Or should I be honest and risk one—or both—of us not being able to control ourselves once it’s out there that, yes, I was thinking of him sexually.

I stutter nervously, trying to gather my thoughts, and finally opt to not address his comments at all. “So, you
want
to attempt to get the book?”

His knowing smile makes me want to melt into a puddle right there in the middle of the coffee shop floor. He knows I’m trying to avoid the subject, but the promise in his eyes that he wants more is enough to make me swoon.