Page 23 of Cursing My Cheating Husband

And then she was gone, leaving me alone with my humiliation.

The scream that tore from my throat was primal. I wanted to trash the room, but I knew that was stupid. I grabbed the nearest pillow and punched it, once, twice, over and over until my knuckles ached. Then I went for the mattress itself, pounding my fists into it with all the impotent rage coursing through me.

Impotent. The word rang in my head like a death knell.

I collapsed back on the bed, chest heaving, hands throbbing. Even my rage was powerless now. My anger accomplished nothing. I was nothing but a child throwing a tantrum.

Callie had thought of everything with this curse. Her magic had anticipated my attempted workaround. Even if I got turned on from thoughts and pictures of her, the curse ensured that the moment another woman came close to sexual contact with me, everything would instantly shut down.

Callie had always been thorough. Great with all the little details. I guess this all tracked.

I stared at the ceiling, my breathing gradually slowing as the dread of what came next settled over me.

Scarlett was right. There was one last-ditch idea to try: going to the doctor.

I was going to have to walk into a sterile office with fluorescent lighting and plastic chairs. I was going to have to sit across from someone in a white coat and explain that my equipment didn’t work anymore. I’d have to say those words out loud, to a professional, while they took notes and tried not to laugh.

They’d want details. Would I have to tell them all about what I’d been through this week? Every shattering and shameful detail?

And the exam. There would probably be an exam. They’d want to look, to touch, to verify the problem for themselves. The thought of lying there while some urologist poked and prodded at my dysfunctional junk, snickering through clinical observations about my emasculation…

I pulled the pillow over my face and screamed into it.

CHAPTER 11

CALLIE

The closer we got to Familiarize, the more excited I was to try the restaurant that Brie had been talking up as the best in Nightshade Cove. We were off the main strip and winding from one side street to another, the crowds increasingly thinning out as we went. As we turned onto a quiet cobblestone lane, a horse-drawn buggy clattered past.

The sight made me smile. “Oh my gods, remember taking Solstice and my mom’s buggy into town?”

“How could I forget?” Brie laughed. “I still miss that horse.”

“Me too.” I ran my hand along a weathered brick wall covered in climbing jasmine. “This magical aging is so convincing. It feels like all these buildings are a century old.” I shook my head in wonder. “If I didn’t know this was all created in the last two years...”

“Yeah, we didn’t want to do the big Vegas glitz on every block. It was important to the coven we have different districts, different atmospheres.” Suddenly, her pace quickened. “We’re here!”

The building ahead was a Victorian house painted deep purple with black trim, its windows glowing warmly. No lines or flashing signs, only a small brass plaque by the door that read “Familiarize” in elegant script, the words glowing with enchantment.

Just inside the entrance, a sleek grey cat sat at a small podium. “Brielle! So good to see you again,” the cat said.

“Thank you, Vince,” Brie replied. “This is Callie.”

Vince’s amber eyes assessed me with interest. “Welcome! Always a pleasure to meet a friend of Brielle’s.” He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Especially when she’s a witch.”

“Human trouble?” Brie asked.

Vince sighed. “I’ll confess, when my witch told me we were going into the restaurant business, I was intrigued by the prospect of conversing with ordinary humans.” His whiskers twitched. “That lasted for the first three customers.”

I laughed. “That bad?”

“Let’s just say I understand why historically familiars have conversed only with witches.” Vince hopped to the ground and led us into the restaurant proper. “I complain, but the truth is Familiarize is my witch’s passion, so there’s nowhere I’d rather be. If that means I have to endure insipid small talk with Betty from Scranton… every life has struggle.”

We arrived at our table, which had a beautiful view of the garden courtyard beyond the window. Vince handed us off seamlessly to a raven familiar named Tracy, who introduced herself as our server and gave me a quick account of how the restaurant worked (eight witches and their familiars ran it in partnership, the witches cooking while the familiars handled front of house).

Tracy warmly informed us that the kitchen had prepared a special tasting menu for us tonight, no charge. The first course materialized on our plates in a shimmer of golden light. Delicate seared scallops rested on a bed of spring pea puree, garnished with micro herbs. Tracy gave a brief account of how they infused a flavorful lunar essence into the scallops by only harvesting them under full moons, and then departed with a graceful flutter, off to check her next table.

As Brie and I dug into the scallops, which tasted extraordinary, I realized how overdue I was for an update on her life. Ever since we’d reconnected, we’d only talked about two things: the implosion of my marriage, and the transformation of Nightshade Cove. I was dying to know more about what my friend had been up to.