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Chapter 3.
JAYDY
Christmas morning.
I’d planned to sleep in on Christmas morning since I wasn’t expecting my parents until at least 1PM. But I couldn’t. As soon as the sun rose, my eyes were open, and I was wide awake. Not like those morning where you can barely drag your ass out of bed even when you desperately needed to pee.
Nope. Today, I was as awake as a five-year-old on Christmas morning, buzzing with energy and ready to jump from my bed and run downstairs to check what was under the tree. But I didn’t. I wasn’t five. I was a twenty-six-year-old very single witch.
I groaned and stretched my arms above my head and talked out aloud to myself. “Okay, so, what’s the plan? Shower... Breakfast... then it’s time to get my gingerbread on.”
And that’s exactly what I did. I had a long, relaxing shower. I washed my hair then blow dried it. Which was something I never normally took the time to do, but today was a special occasion. I had a new white dress with a red Christmas print to flounce about in, so I put that on and walked downstairs for a cup of coffee.
I drank my cappuccino while skimming over all the recipes I’d chosen. Turkey with stuffings and gravy of course. Roast potatoes, pumpkin, and green beans.My father’s favorite.Then there was the ham, the deep-fried chicken, and then last, but certainly not least—dessert. I’d really outdone myself with the desserts. White Christmas slices, a traditional raisin pudding, and a luxuriously rich chocolate mousse. All decorated with red and white candies and topped with fresh, whipped cream.
I retrieved the bags of ingredients from Pansy’s potion shop and began to grind them into powder for my spells. Food magic could be tricky for some witches, which is why a lot of people like Pansy and her parents chose to eat human food that they cooked the old-fashioned way. But thanks to my parents, I had a lot of magic at my disposal, so I could create, and cook, pretty muchwhateverI wanted with ease.
Silver bowls and spacious, decorative platters were needed first, so I pulled them from my cupboards. “All right, let’s do this,” I said, clapping my hands together as the potion took effect. I began to create the food I’d planned systematically, one dish after another, taking extra time to get the spices and flavors just right.
Hours passed by, and when I was finally done, I was exhausted. My kitchen counter was overladen with delicious and amazing treats. My cuckoo clock—a birthday gift from Pansy—chimed at twelve noon, and the gorgeous little bird popped out.
I sighed and sat down on the stool behind me. “Phew. Just enough time to wash my face before mom and dad arrive.” Picking up my cell phone, I took a photo of the epic Christmas spread I’d just created, sending it to Pansy.
She sent one back almost immediately with an image of her and Maverick cozied up in front of a fireplace. Probably somewhere in England with his family.
I sent back a happy message, wishing her the very best for Christmas Day, then set the phone down. I couldn’t be jealous of my friend today. I was too happy. Plus, it wasn’t like she hadn’t been single for her fair share of years, waiting patiently for Maverick to come to his senses. Lucky for her, and him, he finally did.
A squeal of happiness filled my throat as I turned away from the counter, ready to march upstairs for the final leg of my preparation race. My cell phone buzzed once more, next to the dessert trays where I’d left it. I doubled back and grabbed up the phone. Staring down at the screen with a smile on my face, I half expected the text to be another one from Pansy, or maybe even one of my friends from work.
But it was my Mom.
We’ve been invited to the High Warlock luncheon in New York, last minute change. Rain check? We’ll catch up in the New Year. Kisses.
My hands shook as my whole world came crashing down around me. I dropped the phone to the tiles at my feet, the stupid thing bouncing thanks to its expensive rubber case. Rage roared inside of me like a typhoon.How could I have been so stupid to think they cared?
I swiped my arm out in blind frustration and knocked the pudding flying to the ground. The silver bowl clanged loudly in the room as the dessert spilled out, creating a mess. But that wasn’t enough, I was still so furious I could scream; and my stupid Christmas lunch was just sitting there. Mocking me in all its perfection and glory.
What a waste.What a god damn... fucking... waste!“Argh!” I yelled at the top of my lungs, swinging my arm out again and knocking everything to my left to the floor, destroying hours’ worth of love and work in a huge heap of food and anger. And I didn’t stop until every last morsel of food I’d prepared was lying on my tiles, inedible and completely ruined.
“You fucking... assholes!” I spat, trying to get more of the frustration out of my body. My gut felt like I’d been kicked in the solar plex, and hot lava poured ravenously through my veins. Ithadto be adrenaline. My heart was pounding, and I was panting and sweating too.
