Page 72 of Witchy Woman

But it isn’t her fucking fault. There’s some shit she’s done wrong, but this? This isn’t one of them. And that’s on me to make better.

“Dinner is ready!”

Thank fuck for Grandma. Thank the absolute fuck for that woman.

In all honesty,this dinner isn’t the most awkward dinner we’ve had at this table. The bar for normalcy is incredibly low.

Ash and I are side by side, across from Hazel and Noah. Grandma and Birch sit at the opposite heads of the table.

Part of me wishes it was Grandma’s soulmate sitting in that seat. She could use some dick to help her relax.

Which is a very weird thought to have about your own grandmother, but it’s mostly from a good place. I just want her to be happy, and it feels almost wrong that she’s the only one in the family without a soulmate.

She’s positively glowing though. A genuine type of non-jealous happiness that I think most families are more familiar with.

“I wanted to thank you for the invitation,” Birch says, cutting into his Christmas ham. “It’s been a while since Ash and I have had a family Christmas with more than just the two of us.”

“Well, you’re family now, so you’ll just have to get used to it.” Grandma nods matter-of-factly. I get the impression that if I hadn’t extended the invitation, she would’ve tracked Birch down to drag him here herself.

A half smile curves along his face, and I’m smacked once again by the resemblance between him and Ash. It’s not just looks—it’s mannerisms too.

I get the distinct impression that Birch is just as mature and kind as Ash, although I’m not getting as much of the shit-stirrer vibe.

Speaking of.

“You really had to mention that pink isn’t my favorite color?” I hiss under my breath into Ash’s ear.

He shrugs. “I didn’t realize your sister was just around the corner.”

“Even if she wasn’t, I get to tell them things like that in my own time. It’s on me to fix it.”

A rare moment of guilt flashes in his eyes as he leans his forehead to my shoulder. “You’re right. That wasn’t right for me to do. I’m sorry.”

I think that may have been the healthiest communication through a mini-conflict I’ve ever had in my life. The man really is softening me.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

He wraps his hand around my thigh, the warmth of his skin seeping through the layers of dressing gown and pajamapants. It’s not inherently sexual, despite the placement. It’s more comforting, grounding, securing that we’re okay and connected.

Grandma and Birch are talking about something, but my ears don’t catch the words. It’s like background music.

“Get used to this, Goldilocks,” he says, squeezing my leg. “This is what Christmas is going to look like for the rest of your life.”

A small bloom of hope unfurls in my chest. It’s more than I’ve let myself wish for. I’ve been preparing for the bad, always expecting the worst. Keeping Ash away to protect him from a life I always assumed would be full of despair and death.

Maybe I’ve been wrong. Maybe what I’ve really been keeping him from is this. A real, whole family. Dysfunctional but loving.

“Can we disappear for a second? Go sit on the couch?” I ask him after we’ve finished our food.

He nods, explaining to Grandma and his dad as I retreat.

The fireplace is alight and I drag one of the warm blankets down around my legs as I curl up. Ash comes up beside me, wrapping my body around him as we watch the licks of fire dance along the logs. It flickers at me like a friendly wave.

“You okay?” he murmurs into my hair, pressing kisses to wherever he can reach.

“Yeah. More so than I thought I’d be.”

“Dad likes you, but I knew he would. He’s probably going to spoil the shit out of you, honestly.”