Page 121 of Hexed Up

“But I’m not your type. In fact, I’m the exact opposite of your type.”

“Molly, you are very much my type.”

I shake my head. “I’m messy and chaotic and disaster-prone.”

“Molly, you’re creative and spontaneous and brilliant – just damn brilliant. And I’ve been trying to hang out with you for months!”

“Then why didn’t you ask me out?”

“You never seemed interested and I didn’t think I was your type. Too dull.”

“You’re not dull, Horatio,” I mutter. Or grumpy or anal or all the things I thought he was. But that just makes the lying all the worse, doesn’t it? Because I didn’t think he was a liar. A liar just like that last rotten boyfriend.

“This thing with the potion happened,” he continues, “and you kind of convinced me that it had worked. That it had made me fall even more in love with you. I just didn’t tell you that I wasalreadyin love with you.”

“You lied to me,” I repeat.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “But, Molly, it doesn’t change anything between us. I still have feelings for you. And I think you have feelings for me too. This has been the best fortnight of my life. The happiest. And I think we could be happy together.”

Helpfully, Damien makes some gagging noises from the other side of the living room.

I spin to face him. “Are you still here?”

He gulps and disappears with apop!

Then I turn back to Horatio.

“Molly, I–”

“No, Horatio. No. I can’t do this right now. I’m too confused. I didn’t think you were a liar. I thought you were better than that. I need some space. Some time to think.”

“Right,” he says, taking a step away from me and plunging his hands into the pockets of his trousers. “Right. Of course. Of course you do. Maybe we could talk about this later then, when you’ve had some time to think.”

“I’m not making any promises,” I say, shaking my head. “Just please. Please just go.”

He nods, the sadness in his eyes heartbreaking. But I can’t think about that now, not when he’s betrayed my trust.

When he reaches the door, he hesitates and turns back to me.

“I really am sorry, Molly. I messed up everything.”

Chapter Thirty-Three

Thoughts and feelings collide through my brain like competing freight trains. I pace towards the kitchen, pull out all my baking equipment, then abandon that idea, and put them all away again. I pace into the living room, I pace into my bedroom, I pace to the bathroom. I don’t know what to think. I don’t know what to make of it. I don’t know what to do. I’m seriously confused.

McGruff trots behind me anxiously, whining as if he knows something’s wrong. I halt my pacing and stare down at him.

“You’re right,” I say. “I need to get outside and clear my head. We’re going on a walk.”

As soon as I say that word, he’s scampering away and cowering under the sofa. I find his lead, drop down onto my stomach, grab hold of his collar and haul him out.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” I tell him. “You like a walk and it’s a lovely day.”

I clip the lead to his collar, and checking the hallway is clear, descend the stairs and head out towards the Heath.

Now we’re outside, McGruff decides he actually is keen on this walk, happily peeing against lampposts and sniffing in bushes, yapping at the other dogs we pass. We’re almost at theHeath when I halt again. My mind is still racing a million miles per hour. My heart is pounding. My palms are sweaty.

I’m not sure a walk around the Heath is what I need right now.