“Don’t be nervous.”
Nervous? Ha. Turned on beyond belief is more like it.
“I’m not. Don’t worry. Keep going.”
He leans in and presses his face into my hair, so our relatives don’t see that he’s reciting the incantation for Tierra. He’s bending over me at an awkward angle that’s probably hurting his back. Good little partner in crime that I am, I part my thighs and put my arms around him, pulling him closer. I catch a slight hitch in his breathing, but he continues the incantation. His fingers move against my butt as he draws on the table.
My pulse beats thickly in my throat, and it takes me a moment to realize Diego has stopped speaking. His left hand has gone still, the symbol complete, but he hasn’t moved it away from my ass.
“Are you done?” I ask.
“Yeah, I just…need a minute.”
Before I can ask why, he drops his forehead to my shoulder and tilts his pelvis away from me.
Oh. That’s why.
Well hex, it’s nice to know I’m not the only one who’s a mess of hormones tonight.
We get through the symbols for la Luna in the northwest and el Sol in the northeast, despite the camera operators closing in. It takes us a while to get to the northern point of the room, where Diego will mark the final symbol for el Espíritu. I tell him to go do it on his own, but he refuses to leave my side.
We’re pretending to make out when I spot my grandmother charging toward us. I let out a horrified gasp and shove Diego off me.
“Hurry and finish it!”
Diego rushes through the rest of the incantation, marking the symbol in chalk on the wall. When he’s done, we wait a beat.
Nothing happens.
“Did you feel the spell take hold?” I ask.
His brows pinch together. “No. Something’s wrong.”
Our gazes fly to the table where we hid the candle, just in time to see one of the caterers walking away with it. A faint trail of smoke billows from the wick, the only remnants of the extinguished flame.
“Fuck,” we say in unison. And there’s nothing else we can do, because my grandmother is here.
Abuela is barely five feet tall and at least eighty years old, although it’s hard to say because she lies about her age and glamours her skin to look younger. She’s wearing one of my designs, a flowing lilac gown with puffy translucent sleeves and what look like hundreds of fluttering butterflies alighted on the fabric. It’s stunning, and something inside me twists as I remember how good it felt to create beauty with my magic.
Abuela clucks her tongue. “Maid of honor and best man. Nice to see you both bothered to show up.”
I sputter in protest. “Abuela, we were working.”
“Ohhh, ¿claro que sí?” She doesn’t sound impressed. “Pues, since you both have so much free time on your hands now, here’s a list of remaining chores for the wedding.”
I glance at the paper she hands me. “When are we supposed to do all this?”
“Tonight. Get to work.”
She gives us the evil eye, then stalks away.
Diego and I read over the list. It’s long, and includes stuff like “double check chair count,” “confirm cake delivery time,” and “rearrange seating in third white and blue sitting room.”
Diego crosses his arms. “Can we say no?”
“Trust me, you don’t want to say no to my grandmother. And she’s right, we have been delinquent in our duties.” I sigh. “It’ll go faster if we split up.”
“No way. What if the cameras catch us? We’re safer together.”
