Page 48 of A Witch in Notting Hill

But so far, it seemed no one was trying to pitch me something, introduce me to someone, ask me questions I didn’t want to answer, or convince me to do anything other than simply go to brunch. And in this state, I could definitely handle brunch.

This is something I have to get ready for?I asked.

Lola:she lives.

Me:You weren’t doubting me, were you?

Minho:We started to, but Oliver put us straight.

My stomach turned one way at the thought of them thinking I might have been down for the count, then turned immediately back the other way at the thought of Oliver standing up for me. The flip-flop made me nauseated. But maybe not in a bad way.

Me:Chivalry isn’t dead, after all. How does one get ready for their first full English?

Minho:Meditation.

Oliver:Empty stomach. Vague hangover.

Lola:stretchy pants

Me:Done, done, and done. Jury’s out on meditation.

Oliver:Clever girl. Meet at Crown Court in an hour?

Minho:Grand.

Lola:already know i’ll be late

Me:See you there.

I closed my phone and stared at Vera, both of us wondering what the hell was going on.

“I’m going to brunch,” I said, but made no move to get up. “And I’m supposed to wear stretchy pants.”

“Do you even know what’s in a full English?”

“I suppose I’m about to find out.”

“Didn’t wejusttalk about being careful when you’re out and about?” she said.

“You think I want to be seen?”

“Of course not.” She sighed.

“I need them for the quest. I’m not just running around the city making friends.” Even if it felt like I was. Drinks, then brunch the next day? Neither of which I needed a glam team for? Never mind a glam team—I didn’t even think we needed a reservation. When was the last time I just walked into a restaurant and asked for a table?

“It’s my job to look out for you, Willow,” Vera said. “And if I can’t do it outside this hotel room, I have to make sure you’re looking out for yourself.” She nudged my sunglasses in my direction, and I took the hint.

“Thank you,” I said. With this headache, honestly, the sunglasses would be working overtime. “Do you need anything?”

“You know what I need,” she said. “You safe, and me back in my human body. Until then, I’m fine here.”

Since we moved into the flat, things had gotten much easier for Vera. I meal prepped and made sure all food was accessible to her when I wasn’t home, all the technology in the flat could be accessed by voice controls, and there was even a doggy door that led into the garden. When she said she was fine, I knew she meant it.

Armed with my stretchiest pair of pants (a gauzy cotton wide-leg situation), my largest pair of sunglasses, and a tote full of antacids, I said a silent prayer and headed for brunch. The restaurant wasn’t far from my flat, so I took my time breathing in the fresh air and wandering through the streets.

It was damp, as London always is, but in a way that filled my lungs and made me feel inexplicably clean. The neighborhood was quiet, save for a few dogs and a few small children, and I savored the walk, focusing only on putting one foot in front of the other, watching the rows of homes go by, clearing myhead of every thought that didn’t have to do with a slow, lazy morning.

By the time I arrived at the restaurant, my hangover subsided enough for the hunger to set in, and I was eager to dive into a full English—whatever that meant. I kept my sunglasses on as I looked around, relieved when I quickly spotted Lola at a table in the back.