Page 106 of Hexed Up

“I suppose they are. I never really thought of it like that. I just sort of fell into this lifestyle. But I don’t think they’re the most important things to me, Molly.”

“What are, then?” I ask, pinching an olive and popping it between my lips.

“Friendship and family.”

“Are you saying that because you mean it? Or because it’s what everyone thinks they have to say? You are allowed to like money and status, you know. I run an illegal potion-brewing business – I’m not going to judge you.”

“I mean it, Molly. I’m just like everyone else.” His gaze holds mine. “I want to find the right person. I want to settle down. I want to have a family of my own.”

My ovaries literally throb inside my stomach at those words, and the butterflies that have been swirling around all evening seem to faint and swoon away.

“Really? That’s what you want?”

“Yes, like every other human on the planet.”

“Trust me,” I say. “Not every human on the planet wants that.”

“What do you want, Molly?”

“Hmm.” I pick up another breadstick and twirl it between my fingers like a magic wand. “I don’t really know. I mean, I want those things too. But I’d like to get my life sorted first.”

“Your life seems sorted, Molly.”

“Is it though?” I lean forward and whisper, “I’m running an illegal potion-making business from my home, remember? I’m in constant fear of being caught and arrested. It’s not exactly the most stable life. Not really conducive to finding the one, settling down, and starting a family.” I flop back in my chair again. “And also… it’s not just the fear of being slammed with a massive fine – or worse being locked away – it does get a bit boring at times just brewing potions for pimples and sexually transmitted diseases.”

“You brew potions for that?”

“I’ve brewed all sorts of potions, but I’d like to… I don’t know… to experiment more. Do something bigger, more ambitious. I think I have it in me. I just don’t know how to make it happen.”

* * *

Luckily, I avoid an actual interrogation. While we’re eating our meal, Asha chats cheerfully about the garden, about her recent court cases, and about her family out in America. She tells me funny little stories about Horatio’s past (that leave him squirming with embarrassment), and I ask her lots of questions, tell her all about my life in Hampstead, and regale her with my own funny stories about McGruff and the antics he gets into. I exclude the part about magic, my demon best friend, and the fact that most of McGruff’s antics are down to me.

Alan and Horatio are mostly quiet, and I get the impression that everybody’s trying to avoid an argument. That’s why his mum’s talking so much.

Finally, when the meal is over, Horatio stands and starts gathering up the dishes. I do the same, helping him to carry everything into the kitchen, and his mother follows after us.

“I’m washing up, Mom,” Horatio says. “No arguments.”

“I’ll help,” I say. “I can dry.”

I spin around the humongously large kitchen, searching for a tea towel.

“Nope,” Asha says, pushing me towards the door. “You’re our guest. No chores for you. Go back outside and enjoy the garden. Alan will pour you another drink.”

“Mom, you’re not drying up–”

“We’ll leave the drying up,” she says. “I’m just going to make everyone a coffee, that’s all.”

I get the impression she wants some time alone with her son, so reluctantly I slump back out into the garden. I return to my seat and Alan offers to pour me another glass of wine.

“Yes, please,” I say, settling back in the chair and watching as the sun sinks low in the distance, hovering above fields of grass yellowed by the summer’s heat.

“He seems happy,” Alan says. “Much happier than usual.”

“Pardon?” I say, because it’s the last thing I was expecting Horatio’s stepdad to say.

“Horatio seems happy,” he repeats. “I assume that’s your influence.”