Page 65 of Spell Ya Later

How quickly could Grandma whip up a glamour? Becauseyowza.What I would give to see this man right now. “I’d have to ask her. And she’s a really private person. I can’t promise she’ll say yes.”

“Whatever you want. I can swing by Nonna Ricci’s. Is there anything that sounds good to you?”

“You mean other than literally everything she makes?”

He laughs, a low noise almost like water trickling over rocks in the middle of the forest.

“I’ll get you some good stuff if your Grandma says yes.”

“I’ll ask and text you?”

“Sounds good. I miss you, I’m glad you’re feeling at least a little better.”

As I hang up, Grandma materializes in the doorway.

Freakin’ ears of a bat.

“Of course I want Noah to come over. Meeting your soulmate would be the perfect way to light up such a dark week. He will come over now. And I’ll glamour you in the meantime.”

There’s really no point in me replying to her. She’s decided it and I got what I want, so I’m going to keep my damn mouth shut.

I text Noah the address and relax back into the bed. Fatigue threatens to close my eyes once more despite my excitement for Noah to arrive.

“Rest. I’ll let him in when he arrives,” Grandma insists. A new cup of tea floats in and I raise a brow at her. Is she trying to get some alone time with Noah?

“Fine, but make sure to hide your witchy nonsense before he gets here. I haven’t had that conversation with him yet and I plan to do it when I’m not covered in bruises.”

She nods, waving her hand at me to drink the tea. At some point I’m going to ask her what’s in this because there’s no way it’s just peppermint.

Drinking it in one not-as-scalding-as-fresh-tea-should-be gulp, I lie back against the pillows. Hopefully I can trust her to behave.

It’sthe sound of laughter that wakes me from my deliciously naked dream about Noah. If I had my way, he would always be naked.

It takes my brain a second to process why the heck there would be laughing until it clicks.

Noah is here.

Noah is here and laughing.

Noah is here, laughing, and alone with Grandma.

Oh no. Oh no no no.

I can’t stand up to go in there and save him—and save myself from whatever embarrassing torture Grandma is putting me through.

They’ll make their way in here eventually and until then I’m forced to listen to their laughter. Why are they getting along so well? It’s unsettling.

Shit. My body.

I throw off the covers in a move that is both entirely too fast and entirely too painful to see that my cuts and bruises are covered. Grandma must have done the glamour in my sleep.

Thank God for small miracles.

The laughter approaches, bringing with it Noah’s quiet, rumbling voice. Even just the sound of it drifting through the door brings me peace. I replace the blanket, much slower this time, and wait for them.

He’s here. In all of his chin-dimple smile glory.

I barely resist the urge to make little grabby hands at him. I just want his touch, our electricity.