Page 17 of Meet Cute Magic

“No.” I predicted correctly. Her face falls with disappointment before shifting to irritation.

“What the—”

I shake my head and cut her off before I get the full brunt of her anger.

“I’m going to do it with you.” Silence takes over the room, and she tips her head as if trying to break some kind of news to me.

“Uh, Jack, you don’t…”

“Not the magic, obviously. Unless I have some hidden away—”

“You don’t,” she says instantly, and I glare. She winces. “Sorry, I just meant, well… you don’t. I’d know. I’d feel it even if it was locked away.”

“Okay, so I’ll help with the other stuff. Do you have a list of ingredients you need?” She nods, and I smile. “Perfect. I’m sure they don’t all need magic to obtain, and even if they do, I can tag along.” My grandfather lets out a laugh and shakes his head.

“Should have known you’d want to be involved once you got past the shock.”

“You’re not coming along on this mission like some kind of magical ride-along.”

I smile, knowing I have the ultimate bargaining chip. “Then you’re not getting the flask.”

“You have got to be kidding me,” she says, her face going red with irritation, and honestly, I can see why she likes to tease me: it’s fun when you’re on this side of things. She glares at me.

“I’m coming. I want to learn about the world my grandfather came from.” Rosemary opens her mouth to argue, so I add another excuse for good measure. “And you’re a walking disaster. I need to chaperone in order to make sure things go smoothly. My grandfather’s afterlife is on the line, after all.”

If I’m being honest, there’s a small part of me that still thinks this is an intricate dream, but if it’s not, I want to be along for this ride.

“I’ve done plenty of spells, thank you very much,” she says, clearly annoyed. Again, the fact that I’m getting under her skin sends a zap of pleasure along mine. “I’ve been performing spells on my own since I was ten.” Ten? Witches can perform magic before they can even legally be left home alone? I don’t let myself get caught up in the logistics and details as I’m sure she intends.

“Well, then you can do it with me by your side.” Her jaw goes tight, but instead of responding, she turns to my grandfather.

“Phillip, this wasn’t a part of our plan,” she grumbles under her breath. He’s grinning wide, clearly entertained by our back-and-forth. “I don’t need help. I can do it myself.” He shrugs in response.

“Each task is going to bring its own challenges. The flask must be willingly given in order for the spell to work, and—” She throws her hands up in frustration.

“You literally just signed off on my breaking into his place and stealing it!” She whips a hand toward me, and I watch as Rosemary argues with my dead-as-a-doornail grandfather.

What a wild night.

“Yes, well.” There’s a moment of hesitation that niggles at something in my brain, some trait of his that I’ve lost a tether to with time, but it’s gone before I can grasp it tightly enough. “It was willingly given by me, and if you acquired it before hitting a roadblock, you’d be in the clear. But it’s currently in Jack’s possession, so you need to convince him to give it to you willingly.”

A pleased smile spreads over my face. “And that means you have to let me come along if you want me to give it to you.” She growls, then actually stomps her foot.

If it was anyone but Rosemary, I might think it was kind of cute.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me. He hates me!” she says, flinging her arm in my direction. “And you expect me to share not only my family secrets with him, but the entire magical community’s secrets? That’s completely unnecessary and you know it.” Once more, my grandfather shrugs, then flips a bit through the air, that smile on his face still.

I almost pity Rosie, since I know my grandfather can be just as much of a pain as she is. Whatever easy mission she thought she was going to have is a long-lost dream.

“You have until the full moon on Halloween,” he says, and when I do the math, I realize it’s almost six weeks from now. Six weeks of having to deal with Rosie, of doing god knows what around town.

“And this is the only way to break the curse?” Rosie asks, her voice suddenly soft. Hopelessness is written across her face, and for a moment, something in my chest throbs. Guilt? Pity?

A family curse, she said. That my grandfather put on her family? It doesn’t add up; him cursing her entire line due to a bruised ego. But considering everything happening, what do I even know about what should and shouldn’t add up? Each moment, it’s proven that the answer is absolutely nothing.

“Yes,” my grandfather says with a nod, almost gleefully. “It’s the only way.” Rosie’s jaw tightens, and she sighs before she gives a small nod, her shoulders going back with resolve.

“Okay,” she says, turning to me. “And you won’t give me the flask and let me handle this myself?” I shake my head, trying to fight back a smile, both at her irritation and at the idea that I’m about to get a six-week crash course on magic.