Page 97 of Enchanted to Meet You

“Text me when Derrick gets there with a dozen roses and you two are done having hot makeup sex.”

But although I received Dina’s text a few minutes later, letting me know she and the dogs were home safe, I wasn’t able to send her one in return saying that Derrick had come over and he and I had had hot makeup sex. Because none of those things happened.

When I woke up Thursday morning after evidently having fallen asleep watching a marathon ofHalloween Cake-Off, not only was all of Derrick’s stuff still in my house, his hail-battered rental car was still in my driveway, as well. His running clothes from the day before were still in my dryer. His book about Plutarch was still cracked open on the table by his side of the bed. There was evidence all over inside and outside my house that Derrick Winters had lived there for days... but there was no Derrick Winters. It was as if he’d vanished entirely—like magic.

Only not the good kind.

“It’s what you asked him to do,” Dina said when I swung by her office that morning to complain about it.

“I know,” I said, handing her a cheese Danish—Derrick’s favorite. There’d been no sign of him at Wake Up West Harbor when I’d gone in there, though—not to look for him. Not at all. I simply enjoyed their breakfast special. And when I asked her,Stacy said she hadn’t seen him since the day before, either. “But I didn’t think he’d really do it.”

“That’s because you’re used to stalkers like Billy,” Yasmin said.

Dina ignored her sister-in-law. “Look, Jess, why don’t you do yourself a favor and justcallhim? Talk it out. Both of you made mistakes.”

“Ididn’t make a mistake,” I said. “He lied to me.” How could I explain to Dina how much this stung? It was true I hadn’t known Derrick for very long, but I’d thought that what we’d had was the start of something promising. Not necessarily long-term, of course, since he had demon fighting to do. But definitely extremely close friends withmajorbenefits. “You can’t build a relationship on lies—”

“First of all, he didn’t lie,” Dina interrupted. “He just didn’t tell you the whole story. And second of all, we only have Rosalie’s word that she’s the real Chosen One. And since when have we ever believed anything she said? I personally refuse to.”

I didn’t want to believe it, either, but not for the reason Dina didn’t. I didn’t believe it because I couldn’t imagine Derrick doing something as cruel as going around the country, convincing impressionable young witches that they were the saviors of their town, only to turn out to be making it all up. The thought of it turned me right off my breakfast.

“Um, I don’t care who is the real Chosen One,” Yasmin said, brushing pastry crumbs off her skirt, “so long as one of you fixes the Internet. I’ve hit my data cap on my hot spot. And between the cafeteria and the football field flooding, Sal’s losing his mind. This morning he found out there’s black mold growing beneath the Emo Dome.”

“Gross!” Dina cried, at the same time that the ground beneath us rumbled.

And though at first I was tempted to think it might be the rift, opening a yawning chasm to hell beneath our feet, a quick glance out the Sisters In Law office windows showed me that it was only a massive truck from Connecticut’s Best Catering driving toward the village square.

“Oh, yeah,” Yasmin said, noticing my questioning look. “Those have been going by all morning. They’re setting up for tonight. You should see it. Only Rosalie would choose to have a balloutsidein Connecticut at the end of October. They’ve already got the tents up, in case it rains. Or snows. But it looks like it’s going to be a beautiful day.”

“Rosalie will make sure of that,” Dina agreed with a snort.

I nodded and checked my phone for the hundredth time that morning.

No message from Derrick. Not that I was surprised. Why would he call when I’d told him to stay away?

“Justtexthim,” Dina said, noticing what I was doing.

“No,” I said, and put my phone away. “It’s fine. I have to go to the bank to get cash, then open the shop anyway. It’s going to be a busy day.”

Predicting the future isn’t one of my gifts, but I wasn’t wrong. Enchantments was flooded with shoppers, many looking for last-minute finery to wear to the ball, and others simply browsing. I’d had to call all hands on deck to manage the crowds, so both Becca and Zahrah were working, as well as one of my extra holiday helpers, Naomi, who normally only did gift wrapping.

I’d even pulled in Gabby—not so much because I needed her, as because I knew she’d drag Esther along with her, and I wanted to be able to keep an eye on her. I had no way of knowing what kind of tricks the WCW might pull to get their candidate for Bringer of Light in place instead of mine. I didn’t have any reasonto think Lizzie Walker-Hopkins was in league with the forces of evil. But I wasn’t so sure about her mother.

I put Gabby and Esther in my office in the back, sorting and pricing new merchandise.

“You have to be kidding me,” Esther said when she saw the boxes of formal sequined jumpsuits for New Year’s Eve. “It’sHalloween.”

“Gotta keep up with demand, kid,” I said, and handed her a box of price tags. “Get to work.”

“Capitalism is wild,” she said with a sigh.

But both she and Gabby happily began tying tags to the merchandise, leaving me free to roam the store, offering help to customers in search of that special something to wear to the ball. Like the dark-haired older woman with the enormous—and expensive—designer tote bag I saw combing the evening wear rack. Judging from the bag—and her matching shoes—she had style and taste. She was going to be a delight to dress.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” I said, making a beeline to her side. “Are you looking for something in particular?”

“I am,” the woman said, turning to me. She had dark eyes—expertly made-up à la Cleopatra to accentuate their already immense size—and a sleek helmet of shoulder-length, jet-black hair. Her smile was wide and bright, her taste in jewelry—thick gold chains around her neck and bangles at her wrists—exquisite. Her voice was hoarse, as if from overuse, her accent crisply, untraceably European. “Can you help me, darling?”

She pronounced itdahling.