Page 46 of A Witch in Notting Hill

“A doppelganger who’s meeting an insane person for a pint,” she said, letting the laugh loose and reclaiming everyone’s attention.

“Sorry we didn’t all go to acting school,” I said. “I mean”—I raised my voice again, if only to make her laugh—“sorry we didn’t all join the Peace Corps after uni.”

“Jesus, Oliver. You didn’t tell me Gemma was Mother Teresa. I’m not sure I look the part.” She looked down at her jeans and trainers, but I couldn’t follow her gaze. I was too busy staring at her face, her flushed cheeks and her clear eyes, thinking she might actually be a saint after all.

“You look grand,” I said, snapping myself out of my trance and reminding us both what we were doing here. “The others are just in the back there.”

“Gemma, welcome back,” Minho said as we approached the snug.

“You heard all that?” I asked.

“Oh, we did indeed,” he said, turning back to Willow. “Do please tell us about the Peace Corps.”

“It was wonderful. South Africa is beautiful this time of year.”

“All right, all right, enough,” I said. “I did this for your own good, you know.”

“And I appreciate it,” she said, softening her tone. The honey in her voice matched the rest of her so perfectly, for a second I wasn’t sure she was real.God, mate, get it together.

“How have you been?” Lola asked. “Adjusting to the city okay?”

“More or less,” she said. “Moved into the new flat almost three weeks ago, and most of what I needed from LA arrived last weekend, so I’m settling in.”

“Have you seen much of Notting Hill?”

She chewed her lip, and I forced myself to look away. “It’s, uh, I’ve just been, well, no.” She forced a laugh. “I keep telling myself I’m going to explore the city, but then I chicken out when the time comes. Which I know is stupid. But this is the first time my life has been quiet in so long, and I don’t want to do anything to disrupt the peace, you know?” We didn’t really know, since we weren’t international celebrities, but the three of us did enjoy quiet lives, more or less, so we could imagine.Icould definitely imagine. “Sorry, that was a massive overshare and kind of a downer right out of the gate. Enough about me. What have you guys been up to? Having a more fun summer than I am, I hope?”

“A whole lot of this,” Min said, gesturing around the pub. “Weather’s been shite, obviously, so we’ve just been kicking around.”

“We’re bored to death, he means,” Lola said. “We’re glad you came out with us tonight. We’re sick of staring at each other. We needed someone new to stare at.”

“What Lola means is it’s good to see you,” I said, shooting a sideways glance at Lo, who only shrugged.

“You guys, too. It’s good to get out of the flat. I probably should have done this sooner.”

“No bother.” Lola smiled. “What’s important is you’re doing it now, and we’re happy to have you here.”

Thank god.Something normal. Willow’s bright smile reached her eyes this time, and I relaxed for what might have been the first time since she got to London. It was good to have her out with us before we started the quest. To get to know each other without all the witchy shit.

To just be four friends in a pub in London in the summer, before we started the quest and all hell broke loose.

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@Coastal_Lisa:Just watched French 75 for the first time. Willow James is iconic. Is she filming anything new?

@Mich316:No one knows where she is. I think I read she’s in Scotland working on a rom-com? #WIWJ

@WritePretty:Subscribe to my blog for updates as I track her down. Exclusive updates from insider sources pending.

Chapter 19

Willow

Meeting everyone at the pub had seemed like a great idea at the time. Getting out of the flat, letting myself think about something other than the spell for five minutes, remembering that the three of them were good people and their willingness to help was earnest.

This morning, however, made me regret every decision I’d ever made leading up until now. The throbbing headache behind my eyes made it hard to even hold them open long enough to rummage through my bag for a rogue Advil, and when I did find one, I swallowed it without water, wincing as it slid down my dry throat like a marble.

When was the last time I drank that much? Did I even drink that much, or was I just terrible at drinking? Maybe it was the beer. I wasn’t sure I’d ever had that much beer.