Page 82 of This Witch Is Not Wicked

“I wasn’t being mean. I was being a responsible adult. You should be proud of me for not encouraging her to miss school.”

Vine lifted the blue book, dangling it in my face.

I swatted it away. “It’s not about that.”

It laid the book on the bed and flipped it open to the last chapter. My eyes flicked over the page, just enough to read about Merry and the innkeeper fleeing the town that was supposed to be their home.

I snatched the book, stomped to the edge of my room, reared back my arm, and threw it as hard as I could. Niamh would probably kill me and Morton might very well pass out from horror when it found out what I’d done.

I turned to face Vine. “Yes, okay? I’m mad. Livid, actually. And I’m glad I didn’t read the stupid book because that ending was terrible. Merry saved the entire town, and they arrested her. Treated her like a criminal. She didn’t even do anything wrong. She was a nice person, a good person.”

Vine slithered to the end of the bed, up my body, and around my shoulders, giving me a squeeze. Its tail reached up and wiped away a tear I hadn’t realized was there.

“It’s just a dumb book,” I said through tears. “And maybe I was a little hard on Fiona because that ending upset me. But she really does need to be in school. I’m going to get in trouble if someone finds out she’s missing school to come to my cottage.”

And I wasn’t a hero, not like Merry, so I had no chance of being forgiven.

Vine didn’t move or argue, and I was thankful. I didn’t want to think about the book or Fiona anymore.

Except I was going to have to attend that book club tomorrow, was going to have to listen to everyone squeal and gush over how good that ending was, and if I wanted to fit in and earn their votes, I’d have to pretend I liked it too.

Nevan was supposed to come here tonight. Despite our fake relationship, we hadn’t had many official dates over the last few weeks. We’d had a lot of stolen moments and quick trysts, but tonight was the first night he was taking off so we could spend it together. The thought that he might actually spend the night for the first time had made me giddy, knowing that we could take our time with each other and cuddle. Godwitches. I’d actually been excited to cuddle with him.

But now, thinking about Merry’s story, I felt sick. I grabbed a piece of parchment and a quill from my end table, then stretched it out toward Vine.

Vine grabbed it, curling its tail around the note.

“Tell Nevan I’m sorry,” I said.

CHAPTER 32

Enid

Isat in a circle with Ceri, Harriet, Niamh, and Margaret, who, as usual, was standing in her painting on the wall.

Niamh beamed at all of us. “Are we ready to discuss the final chapters of the book?”

Against my better judgment, I’d marched out into the bog and found the stupid book I’d thrown. By some stroke of luck, it had landed on a lily pad, so the damage had been minimal. I thought maybe I’d misunderstood Morton’s summary, so I read the rest of the book in one sitting, and it had only made me angrier.

“So.” Niamh placed her hands in her lap. “What did we all think?”

Ceri pressed her hands together. “It was so romantic. The way Conan rescued Merry and whisked her away to safety, left his whole life behind.” She sighed. “Wow.”

Harriet nodded. “It was brave of him to do that. He had to leave behind his business, his family, his friends.”

My blood boiled. This was the exact reaction I’d expected, and it painted my vision red.

“I really liked how Conan professed his love in the prison,” Margaret said. “If I had an actual heart, it would have ballooned at that.”

“Mine actually felt like it did.” Ceri laid a hand over heart. “I squealed so loudly in my bedroom that my father burst in, worried something had happened to me.”

Everyone audibly swooned, and I rolled my eyes and scoffed.

Niamh looked at me. “Enid? What are your thoughts?”

My jaw locked, and Ceri’s eyebrows furrowed. “Did you not enjoy it?”

That was a word for it.