Wicked Alpha

By Lauren Courcelle

And action... Coral’s wedding... Harley’s promo tour... and a positive pregnancy test... and that’s all before Labor Day. Welcome to senior year, Persephone. Only... none of it’s real... or is it?

Persephone Smith doesn't live her life in what-if scenarios... until the Universe forces her to do exactly that. By using her natural powers to right the one night that ruined her life, she sets in motion a series of alternate realities that are clearly designed to teach her a lesson. But what does the Universe want her to learn? And how will she get back to the reality she's always known? Better question... would she even want to be there anymore?

Join Persephone and her friends, family, and foes for one last year in Pine Hill, Vermont, before the gang disperses for college. "Wicked Alpha" is the long-awaited first seventh book in the Persephone Smith series by author Lauren Courcelle and marks the third young adult novel in the coming-of-age, realistic, paranormal, fantasy saga.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lauren Courcelle
• Release date: Dec 24, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370723348

Lauren Courcelle

Lauren Courcelle has lived in Vermont all of her life, but if she told you how many years she's been a Vermonter, you'd know how old she is, so don't expect her to admit that! At a young age, she decided she wanted to be a teacher when she grew up. In hindsight, much of her decision was initially based on her tremendous excitement at the idea of being able to write on the chalkboard whenever she wanted! As she matured, or maybe due to the inclusion of many more white boards in classrooms, Lauren realized that the best part about teaching was being able to have a daily impact on students, particularly when inspiring them to become lifelong lovers of literature.For a few years, Lauren left the field of education, to try her hand at something else. When folks would ask her what she missed most about teaching, her response was always, "The kids, and in particular, reading great children's books with the kids!" Having always wanted to write an amazing picture book, in May, 2011, she decided to pursue her dream. Nearly 400 pages later, a chapter book, surprisingly, emerged from her efforts.That book was "Wicked Normal," and Lauren immediately knew that it would become a series, as her characters still had so much more story to tell. Lauren released "Wicked Weird," the second book in the series, less than six months later. The third book, "Wicked Awesome," was published within a year of the first. The fourth book of the series, "Wicked Dramatic," had protagonist, Persephone Smith, embarking on her final year of middle school.Lauren paused Persephone's series to release "unLEASHed," the first book of her first Young Adult series. Although it is a futuristic novel, she hopes it is not a psychic vision of what life will be like some twenty years (or so) from now.On the heels of the release of "unLEASHed," Lauren returned to Persephone's series with Young Adult novels "Wicked Confessions," "Wicked Together," "Wicked Alpha," & "Wicked Omega." She's currently working on the 2nd book in Cordeleya's series (working title: "unGUARDed") and fighting off the urge to spend time right now on the next Persephone book as Imemy's tale needs to be told first! ("Imemy" is a futuristic, YA love story between the narrating protagonist and another teenager told without revealing either's gender, for love is love. Yeah. Be on the lookout for that one!)Lauren continues to reside in Vermont, and in her leisure time, she enjoys knitting scarves, making beaded jewelry, and painting.

Book preview

chapter one

Coral’s Wedding

And… action. Smile and go. Step. Together. Slowly, Persephone. Step. Don’t trip. Together. Was it me or was the aisle much shorter at the rehearsal? Didn’t matter. This wasn’t rehearsal. This was go time. Step. Together. Look at all the people. Their smiles looked as fake as mine felt. And to think, whether this choreographed, pink and blue extravaganza went down in their memories as a success or failure now entirely hinged on Harley’s ability to steer the intoxicated bridezilla down the aisle, past all the oblivious, beautiful, wedding guests, without her falling flat on her face, puking, or bolting! Karma, how I love thee. Oww, my natural smile made my cheeks ache. Call me evil, if you must, but Coral’s wedding was perfect to those who beheld it, yet even more fitting to those of us privy to the reality behind the façade.

As my feet found their designated destination, a collective swivel turned all eyes to the bride. My jaw burned from the sinister grin of morbid pleasure that swept through me at seeing the look of pure terror on Harley’s face. Nobody else was watching him in the moment as all the attention was on the bride, but the way he was sweating? He hadn’t gotten the memo. Sucked to be him, didn’t it?

As he wrangled the bride down the aisle for her presentation to the groom, my mind replayed the morning again – from arriving at Nona and Po-pop’s to find Coral drunk and protesting that she didn’t want to marry her betrothed, to Harley arguing with her that she was too drunk to be rational, to her flagrantly hitting on him, for old times’ sake. Yeah. He had turned her down every time, but the familiarity with which she had draped herself all over him had shocked me. Probably because I had truly believed that making out and fooling around was the sum total of what they had done sophomore year – foolish, naïve me – but the way she had carried on this morning? They had duped me good all these years. Wow. If this summer’s events hadn’t opened my eyes to Harley’s unreliable integrity and my endless need to vigilantly scrutinize every morsel of his claims in life, I’d still gullibly believe those tales of innocence rather than realizing they were likely dumbed down, sanitized facsimiles of the actual events that had undoubtedly transpired betwixt them.

Presently, the slower than molasses Harley, in his carnation pink suit and simulated sky necktie that Coral had conniptioned about this morning, and bride, in her virginity-proclaiming, white, wedding dress, had finally reached the altar. Take it away, Mr. Wedding Officiant. Who gives this woman into marriage?

I do, Harley replied with a smirk. The way Coral googly-eyed him, you’d think he was her groom. But he wasn’t. Yet, he winked at her with a poop-eating grin. Yeah, he oughta wink. After all, three hours ago, he had been the one holding her hair back while she barfed so that I wouldn’t wind up with puke on my dress. Though equally to his credit, that remedy potion he had whipped together really seemed to have sobered her up. But how had he let her get drunk in the first place? He had insisted she had been stone cold sober when he had dropped her off last night, but I didn’t believe him one bit.

Anyway, as soon as Mr. Honorary Father-of-the-Bride had arrived for the pre-show at Nona and Po-pop’s, Coral had immediately summoned me away to her bedroom to talk. Cue a sickening confession of her undying love for her "hero." Not her husband-to-be. Nope. Harley Stevens.

Seriously, Universe? Had I truly done anything so vile to deserve to have Coral bending my ear about that? No. No, I had not. Yet, she had whined about how Harley wouldn’t marry her because he was in love with me, but then, she hadn’t been able to remember if he had actually said that or not. Granted, she had been inebriated this morning and made little to no sense whatsoever, but… dammit, was he still in love with me? Cuz if he was, that could… well, possibly… change things… maybe. Though probably not, but maybe? And maybe was something at all, and it was a hell of a lot better than this abyss of horrible that was us right now.

Knowing she had been unreliable at the time, if not in general, I had chosen to confront him about it. Ah, I remembered it now like it was yesterday, though it had only been this morning. The three of us had been sitting on the cold, tiled, bathroom floor, waiting for his magical concoction to sufficiently sober her up so we could finish getting ready for this debacle, and I had asked him. Straight up. With no room for escape.

And yanno what? He had said it. "I told Coral I’d never marry her because I’m in love with you. And I have been since the day we met. And that’s the truth, Persephone." Maybe it was, but I struggled to believe anything he said now that I inherently questioned his ability to even tell the truth. Sigh. He had run his hand through his own hair before confessing, "When I woke up this morning, I made a decision. I forgive you for everything that happened with Emerson this summer, P, because I’d rather spend my lifetime with you than another day being mad at you for something that already happened that we can’t change. And I wanna be the guy I am with you. I can’t spend my life being the asshole, loser, piece of shit that I am without you."

Um. Uh. I had been expected to respond to that? Gee, thanks, Universe. Because yes, I could have been the biggest bitch ever and exploited the fact that he had just acknowledged that he was, indeed, an a-hole, loser, piece of poop, or I could have been the bigger person and continued this epiphanic, healing process. In a concerted effort to guard myself against the distinct possibility that he had been simply setting me up for the backhanded sting of misunderstood sarcasm, I had split the difference. That’s kinda weird and deep, Harley.

He had shrugged. After she texted me the proposal, it all kinda clicked in my head. My eyes had bulged from my skull. Coral had proposed to Harley? On the night before her wedding? Whaaa? "P, it’s a no-brainer. She’s not my future. I want my future to be with you. Always have. It’s always been you. It’s always gonna be you."

I had bit my tongue rather than unleash the instantaneous zinger about it not being me that one night in Montréal. Because okay… what if I was wrong about that? What if the ghastly sight perma-seared into my brain had merely been a glamour, too? Yeah, I knew it was a long shot, but I missed Harley so much, and well, when I had been wide awake in the middle of the night last night, I had realized that I was only half sure that Harley was lying to me about Lainie. Because he had always been a terrible liar, and this time, his actions screamed to me that he had been telling me the truth. But how would I ever know? Right. I wouldn’t. I’d have to trust him… or not. And I wasn’t sure I could. I had hoped today would present us with a chance to talk – just him and me – like we used to talk, but we hadn’t had a moment to ourselves yet. This morning had been all about Coral.

Okay, these vows were atrociously torturous. You had heard the groom talk before, right? Highfalutin, highfalutin, M’lady, M’lady, bullcrap, blah, blah, blah… yeah. Picture wedding vows like that. Oh. My. Gosh. Was it too late to turn in a raincheck and receive that champagne toast I had turned down at last night’s bachelorette party? It was? Dammit. Charles’s droning faux-haughtiness would drive anyone to drink. Er, anyone except Coral, who stood there absorbing every syllable with doe eyes and a trusting smile. Her vows were no better – saccharin sweet with all the drippings of fluffy, love stuff that wedding vows were supposed to have. She seemed like she really meant them. Not so sure what all that Harley garbage was about this morning, but apparently, our joint intervention had succeeded.

Dammit. What possessed me to turn and look at Har during Coral’s vows? Well, obviously, with the intention to convey that Good job sobering her up, Harley. Mission accomplished, look, but he mistook the habitual glance as an opportunity to wink at me! No. I couldn’t do this. Not right now. I looked away to witness Charles eating up Coral’s every word with a spoon.

Okay, gotta ask… why would anyone have any objections to the union? Better question: why were they even soliciting such objections? And why was Charles glaring at me as though I should stop the nuptials? Not happenin’. Nope. I had no desire to marry him. Not now. Not ever. And with this union, Coral would earn her freedom from Nona and Po-pop. All was going exactly as planned.

And then, they were kissing. Yes! The telltale sign that we were almost done with this! The officiant introduced the brand-new husband and wife to those of us gathered. We all clapped on cue. The exit music played. I made sure Coral’s train was where it was supposed to be… and… away they went, down the aisle.

Drew and I were the next pair to brave the jostling onlookers. As we waved at Charles’s ex-girlfriend, Courtney, Drew divulged that his brother had actually slept with her! Eww! But worse? Coral had married Charles believing that he was a virgin? I felt rather sick.

Hey, what’s up? Harley wondered, checking in as he joined us at the end of the aisle. I shook my head. I didn’t want to talk to him. Yet, he put his hand on my shoulder.

Don’t touch me, I insisted, shirking away.

Conveniently, Coral needed me for pictures, so I slapped on my fake smile and posed as directed. Just like prom only worse. In fact, it was excruciatingly worse considering I wanted to deck the groom and puke on anyone who didn’t get out of my way.

The millisecond I was free from my current round of MOH duties, I dashed straight over to Mom to vent. I needed clarity, and she was always reliable for clarity. Except her advice was to not tell Coral what Drew had told me because it would just hurt her. When I objected, she offered one word in response…

Lainie.

The hairs on the back of my neck immediately bristled with those two, measly, stupid syllables. Ugh. But I didn’t want to undo knowing about Harley and Lainie… I wanted to undo the concept of them… or even undo going to the Harlan College July Program in the first place.

After a sufficiently dramatic pause, Mom continued, revealing something I never knew… Dad wasn’t a virgin when they got married! Weirder yet? He had lost his virginity before anyone had ever even heard of UR My QTπ! I know, right? Mind blown. So, her actual point in telling me any of this was to emphasize that when people loved each other enough to get married, they accepted one another as they were, including their pasts, and their true concern was their future… together… and that was why they committed to love each other from that day forward and build their happily ever after together.

Sensing we were amid one of her classic parallels constructed to teach me pertinent life lessons, I jumped in, So, I can assume Harley lost his virginity way before Lainie Starr, did unspeakable things with his 4mulaic groupies, and all the time left me none the wiser such that Lainie was really no big deal to him, and that I should marry him anyway and show the world that I forgive him for everything he did up to and including on my wedding day.

No. That wasn’t her intended life lesson for me this time, but I had effectively proven myself to be a chip off the Queen of the Worst Case Scenario’s block. Yup. The apple didn’t fall far from the tree in the Smith house. But what she wanted me to grasp was that if someday I discovered that Harley, indeed, was my soulmate, and if he was truly the one for me, I would have to forgive him for all the times he screwed up – whether this Lainie incident happened and was one of those times or didn’t happen and thus, was not a legitimate screw-up – and not be swayed by anyone else’s opinion regarding him.

Argh! Why didn’t she understand that I couldn’t forgive him if he slept with Lainie Starr? Alas, she didn’t get it. She insisted it was my choice. But it wasn’t my choice! He made that choice for me!

Speak of Hades, er, the devil, he came over to us to make small talk. He shouldn’t have. Mom coldly complimented his necktie, and despite his sufficient groveling, I had nothing to say to him at all.

Marvelously, MOH duty called again, and I escaped to detach Coral’s train to allow the newlyweds to board the horse-drawn carriage for what would undoubtedly be an immediate start to their honeymoon. Those of us left behind took non-romantic carriage rides over to the reception in additional carriages adorned with pink and blue tulle bows and flowers. I know, right? Fancy! Drew and I boarded the one earmarked for the rest of the wedding party. I can take two more, the driver called to the crowd.

I’m in the wedding party! Harley growled, knocking someone out of the way in order to claim a seat in our carriage. God! I’m the one who gave the bride away!

One more! the driver updated.

Seth jumped onboard. I suppose you can be my plus one, Bro, he joked to Harley as they engaged in one of those boys’ handshakes that made no sense to me before gossiping about the day like schoolgirls on a field trip. They even brought Drew into their conversation.

Ugh. I so did not need to be surrounded by testosterone-addled teenagers betting on the consummation of the marriage we had all just unfortunately witnessed! Yuck! So, to put a cease and desist on the repugnant conversation, I offered, "Guys! Enough! Obviously, that’s why they hired horse-drawn carriages, okay?" Because could it have been more obvious? I thought not, but three pairs of eyes blinked at me. So, yeah. Guess that concept hadn’t crossed their minds. Oops.

Our carriage stopped on the other side of the building and let us out. We were immediately sequestered away to await our grand entrance into the reception. It would be a while. Not only did all the guests need to get there and find their tables, but the bride and groom had to actually show up for the shindig.

As the roar of the guests simmered down, there continued to be no sign of the happy couple. Okay, yeah. Persephone called it. This is ridiculous, Harley growled. Really? Treating me like we were just us? Best friends? Like nothing had changed? Like he hadn’t ripped my heart out and fed it to me ten days ago? I mean, okay, so we kinda, sorta, maybe were still friends… but not entirely right now.

Needing space from the boys, I stormed off and locked myself in the powder room. Before I knew it, Coral joined me, needing to talk in private. Cue me getting all of the carriage ride details. Yeah. TMI. But recognizing that this was the sort of thing that girls talked to their moms about, and knowing Coral’s mom was dead and that Coral didn’t really have anyone else to confide in, I simply listened as she went on and on and on with details I wished I could instantly unknow.

She capped it off with unsolicited advice on the topic. Let me tell you, Persephone, waiting is the right thing to do.

"Do you think Charles waited? I mean, like really?" I asked, immediately regretting that I still hadn’t developed that little spell to take words back when they thoughtlessly leapt from my loose lips. Cuz no, I hadn’t intended to bring it up. It had just happened.

She scowled and wondered, Why would you ask that?

Uh, no reason, I lied.

She smirked. "Well, in that case, no. I know all about Charles’s girlfriends in high school, and of course, there was Courtney, she hissed, like a cockroach. But I love Harley. Cue deer-caught-in-headlights expression as she realized her verbal slip-up. Uh, I mean, Charles! She closed her eyes tightly and grimaced. Their names are just too similar, yanno?" No. Not really. There was no confusing them. "But yeah, I love Char-les, and now, we’re married! And we just made it official!" She hugged me, tightly.

Well, congratulations, Coral, I stated, hugging her back. And happy birthday!

Thanks! My appointment for my license is Monday! she exclaimed. "Isn’t that weird? Coral Jones will never have a license! But Coral Hammock will!"

I don’t have mine yet, I acknowledged.

Well, what are you waiting for, Persephone? she chastised.

I don’t want to drive, I admitted. So, I don’t need one.

She gave me a disapproving look and shake of the head. "Mommy always said that every woman should have her license so that she never has to rely on men for anything."

I chuckled. That sounded just like Marina. I’ll bet she’s proud of you right now, Coral.

Oh, she is, she declared. "I’m living the life she always dreamed for me. Mrs. Charles Hammock! I can’t even believe it! She giggled and bounced in delight. I’m a Hammock now! The power is mine! As soon as Charles graduates from college, we’ll move back to Salem and rule the Universe. Here’s hoping we’ve got a little one by then. She rubbed her stomach. Maybe we already do."

Oh, God. Children? Coral and Charles? I sure hoped not. Otherwise, those poor kids! Could you think of two worse parents? Hey, who said Harley and me? You knock it off. Not funny! Besides, I wasn’t having kids anytime soon. Nope. Maybe even never.

Speak of Hades, er, the devil, a rap on the door was followed by Harley’s head poking into the room. Are you girls done powdering whatever it is that girls powder in the powder room yet? he prodded, inviting himself right in. "Oh, and more importantly, Coral, was that everything you hoped for?" He winked at her like he had at the altar.

Harley! she snapped, snatching her shoe off, walking over to him, and whacking him in the head with it. "Was that everything you hoped for?"

I couldn’t help but laugh. I actually liked married Coral. She was fun. She didn’t take crap from anyone. And well, Harley was still rubbing his noggin’ from her stiletto. "Oww," he whined.

Well, after a trip to the loo and a lipstick reapplication, the bride was finally ready for her entrance, so Harley signaled that we were all present and accounted for, and the DJ introduced Coral’s Nona and Po-pop, Charles’s parents, Harley as Coral’s honorary wedding presenter, Drew and me as the best man and maid of honor, and last, but most importantly, Mr. and Mrs. Charles Hammock!

Drew gave the toast, and for the first time in my life – and probably the last – I drank champagne. Eww. It tasted like perfume. Gross! Why would anyone ever consume that crap? Yuck! I had barely set my glass down when Harley snagged it off the table and put the rest away in one gulp.

I whispered, You like that swill? to him.

He shook his head. Nope. It’s nasty. But I need somethin’ to get me through right now.

Harley, you don’t drink, I reminded him. Unless that was a lie. Damn it! I hated that I now questioned everything I knew about him.

"I hardly call two glasses of champagne me drinking, P." He popped up from the head table to go steal champagne from Seth’s table, returning to his seat armed with three more glasses of the stuff.

Harley, I chastised. That’s more than enough.

He emptied them before retorting, "Naah. I’m just gettin’ started. After all, we’re here at Coral and Charles’s wedding. They’re married. That’s… I don’t even have words for that. And all I wanna do is mock the shit out of all of this with you, but you’re barely talkin’ to me, and any second now, you’re gonna storm off, and I’m just gonna be stuck here at the head table, miserable and alone, turning this joyous event into every other day of my life without you."

Oh, crap. He was drunk. Five glasses of champagne, and he was some messed up! I noted, Oh, God! You’re drunk!

"I’m fine, he reassured me, holding his hand up at me. I only had this many. Right. Five. I shook my head. I’m messin’ with you! he informed me, putting his hand down. Five glasses of cheap champagne did not eff me up, P. Bein’ without you has."

Yeah, no. We couldn’t do this here… yet, we were doing this here. Ugh. They brought out our food, and I scarfed down the chicken and potatoes from my plate. Mmm. Har then swapped plates with me and ate my asparagus. Yeah. We were still us… but we weren’t. But we were. Gawd, this was awful. What? he wondered. Right. I had been staring at him. Crap. I hadn’t meant to. It had just happened. It’s preseason for cross-country, P. I’m seventeen. And I like food. Me eating is not a shocker.

Okay, that was funny, so I giggled. Then, I felt guilty about giggling. Because just last week, he had hurt me! Terribly! But did he? Or was it a misunderstanding? I didn’t know, and I never would, but whenever Harley was bluntly himself and funny, I just couldn’t resist him! He was the guy I fell for… not that guy in Montréal who broke me. That guy was a self-described, a-hole, loser, piece of poop. That guy wasn’t playfully bantering about asparagus with me. But my Harley was. Grr. Why did it have to be like this? So confusing!

Before he could take the last bite, it was time for the happy couple… and the rest of the wedding party… to make their rounds and greet everyone. No, thanks. I was good with just sitting at the head table and letting people pop up to visit me. Come on! Let’s go check in with our friends! he urged, tugging on my arm.

I pulled my hand back and snapped, Eww, don’t touch me. Oh, shit. Where had that come from? Evidently, at some very real, core level, I believed he, indeed, had been with Lainie and was consequently dirty, didn’t I? No! I didn’t want to, but I clearly did. And well, I didn’t have proof that he didn’t…

I watched the joy wash off his face. "Oh. Right. Me dirty. You clean. Cuz me sitting in your hotel room all night, waiting for you, is dirty, but you kissing Emerson is somehow clean. Got it." He then stomped – I kidded you not – over to a half-filled table way in the back and swiped three more glasses of champagne.

No. I didn’t want him to drink any more! I ran over to Seth’s table. Harley’s had like eight glasses of champagne!

"He what?" Seth gasped.

"And he’s pissed off at me, so I think he’s doing it to spite me, I leveled. So, can you–"

Yeah, I’ll get right on it, Princess. He jumped up and started towards Harley. Then, he spun back around to me. Oh, and Princess? He smiled. You’re showing up the bride today. Just sayin’. His comment made me blush. Oh, how I hated that my face reddened at anything and everything boys said to me! I was a senior in high school! And yet, still blushing about boys? Ugh! How embarrassing!

Yet, somehow, not half as embarrassing as all the formal wedding reception things slated to come next. Remind me not to do any of them for my wedding. First on the agenda… the first dance. Oh boy. Weren’t they so beautiful? Insert eye roll here. Next up? The father-daughter dance. But they didn’t haul Harley in from wherever he had disappeared to… no, Coral danced with her Po-pop, per the plan. And as harsh and judgmental as I usually was about the goofy choices Coral made, even I had to admit it was kinda, totally sweet. Then came the mother-son dance… followed by the second cousin and the milkman dance. No, that one was a joke. But you got the drift.

Alas, I intentionally left the worst dance of all until the end. The dollar dance. Wedding guests lined up to exchange one dollar for a dance with one half of the happy couple. The expectation was that the guys danced with Coral, and the girls danced with Charles. But let me tell you… Charles Hammock would need to pay me a whole lot more than a frickin’ dollar to dance with him. But I was expected to give him a dollar to dance with me? Oh, hell, no! But it was tradition. And as maid of honor, I couldn’t break with tradition, right?

You bet I could.

"Persephone! You’re supposed to dance with Char-les," Coral whined as I handed my dollar to her.

I’d rather dance with you, I leveled as we hugged and danced. Hey, it was true. I’d rather dance with anyone if it meant not dancing with Charles Hammock. Well… almost anyone.

She laughed and cooed, "Aww, you’re the best maid of honor ever, Persephone!"

May I cut in? Seth thankfully interrupted. Coral answered by snagging his dollar out of his hand. He’s out on the porch, he quickly whispered to me as the bride curled up in his arms.

Good for him, I sniped before returning to my seat at the head table. What? I was supposed to care where that drunken slob I had spent too long caring about was? Uh, no. Didn’t care. Not at all. Not even in the slightest. Nope and uh, no.

Alas, we had not yet seen the low point of the wedding reception. Nope. The bouquet toss brought the concept to all new depths. Who the hell came up with this stupid tradition anyway? The bride pitched a bouquet of flowers at all the single girls, and whoever was misfortunate enough to get stuck catching it would be the poor sap getting married next? Says who? Not says the bride-to-be! Nope. Tradition says! Eff that! Eff tradition! A girl should decide when, or even if, she was getting married. So, yeah, no. I would have no part in this archaic ritual. So, when the DJ summoned all the single ladies to the dance floor, I remained firmly planted in my chair at the head table. I would not be falling for that trick. Yes, I was single, but I was not going to be the next girl to get married. No way. Nuh-uh. Nope.

Persephone! Get out here! Coral commanded before sending her husband all the way back over to the head table to fetch me.

Ugh, he was making a scene! M’lady! It is a tradition that the maid of honor catches the bride’s bouquet, he informed me as he hauled me out to the slaughterhouse of the dance floor.

I sloughed over to the safety of the way back corner of the floor and sighed, Fine, Charles.

M’lady, please! For Coral Reef’s sake! Pretend like you’re having fun? he encouraged.

Woo hoo, I flatly stated.

Emblazed in sarcasm yet sweet from M’lady’s lips, he mumbled as he retreated off the dance floor.

Proudly, I stood tall to await Coral’s outdated, traditional bouquet toss. Yeah. See, I had strategically positioned myself so that there was absolutely no way on God’s green earth that Coral Hammock could slingshot, spiral, fling, toss, ricochet, volley, or in any other way throw that bouquet to me. Subsequently, I would be immune from the curse that catching it automatically bestowed upon the catcher. And with Misty, Gabby, and Katrina already meleeing in a spectacular spectacle in the front row, I knew I had selected the perfect spot for the offensive tradition. One, two, three! Coral counted before pitching that thing, backwards, at the anxious, vulture spinsters. They pulled hair, stepped on dresses, tripped one another, and looked like damn fools in their efforts to get that bouquet! And when the dust settled, I couldn’t believe who held the flowers.

Me! But I hadn’t moved a muscle! So how was my hand wrapped around the plastic stem cover thingy?! Oh. My. God! I stammered as everyone in attendance cheered wildly.

It’s okay, Princess, Seth noted, giving me a half-hug. All you have to do is sit there and let the guy put the garter on you.

Right. I hadn’t yet vented about that part of the evil, antiquated tradition, had I? So, an equally reprehensible garter toss would elect the next groom-to-be. Then, to secure that today’s couple would enjoy a happy and long marriage, the garter catcher would slide said garter way up on the bouquet catcher’s leg. The higher the garter, the better the marriage. Sick, twisted puppies schemed this crap up, I tell ya. I gasped, "Some random guy will not be putting a garter on my thigh!"

Lucky for you, you already know me, he hinted with a wink. "Now, to see if your quarterback knows how to catch as well as he throws. Wish me luck, Princess." He leaned to my cheek and kissed it. Huh. I was standing there like a smitten schoolgirl smirking about Seth Totter. Well, he had just pledged to save me from certain, annihilating humiliation, but one act of kindness did not earn forgiveness.

But okay… maybe he truly bore no responsibility in Ezzy’s death or Jade’s disappearance… or maybe he was playing hero out of guilt.

His plan was perfect… in theory… but unfortunately, he didn’t catch the garter. From out of nowhere, a carnation pink blur dove and slid across the dance floor, catching it in his teeth! Harley, of course. He then grinned and gloated, "Because you think my hands are dirty!" Well, yes, his hands, but his mouth, too! But evidently, he didn’t understand that. I slammed the bouquet onto the floor and stormed out. I wasn’t cool with him putting the garter on me. Not today. Any other day, yes, but not today! Not yet! Not until we had a chance to talk! Did he sleep with Lainie or not? I needed to know, and I didn’t!

Persephone! Wait! You need to let Harley put the garter on you! Coral screeched, following me out the door.

No, I didn’t. Look, Coral. It’s a stupid tradition. Pitch the frickin’ flowers again, and get someone who wants to get married to do it.

You don’t want to get married? she gasped in disbelief.

Of course, I wanted to get married. Just… not now! And I just wanted a break from all things wedding! I couldn’t take this anymore! "Harley and I just broke up, I explained. I can’t do this."

Please! she begged. My marriage depends on this.

Yeah, no. I shook my head. You and Charles will be fine. You love each other, and you accept each other as you are today. You don’t need some bullshit garter thing to give you your happy ending. You’ve already got it, Coral.

She nodded and decided, Okay. I’ll toss the bouquet again, before turning around and heading back inside. Good. I was rid of her and the curse of catching the bouquet. That was almost too easy.

And… onward. With every building on the country club’s property open and available for use by anyone associated with the wedding, and having an inside connection who planned the damn thing, I knew this maid of honor’s peace and serenity would be found in a particular storage shed that was equipped with beanbag chairs, candles, and a cooler stocked with Laspberry Rime Mythic. And oh, the Mythic bubbled delightfully on my tongue, and yeah, lounging around away from prying eyes was just what I needed. I lit a purple candle, filling the tiny structure with the aroma of lavender, sat back, relaxed, and hoped I could stay right here until it was time to go home.

Is that seat reserved? Harley’s voice caused me to turn and catch him leaning up against my sanctuary’s doorway.

Just for you, I joked, knowing he’d come sit with me whether I invited him in or not.

Sure enough, he scoped out the cooler, grabbed himself a bottle of Mythic, and plopped down as expected. P, I didn’t sleep with Lainie. I didn’t kiss Lainie. I’m not dirty. I just… you really don’t wanna marry me? Like ever? Like so much that you want Coral to retoss the bouquet? So that I have to put your garter on someone else? He held the garter up. He still had it. He had faith that we’d patch things up.

Har, I… I couldn’t explain. But I needed to. I want to believe you.

Then, believe me, he demanded, squaring up to me and looking me in the eye. I never slept with Lainie Starr. The most I ever did with her was hug her. His eyes were watering. It was the truth. You know I’m telling you the truth.

"I also know what I saw, I countered. And you’re asking me not to believe what I saw!"

"I know what I saw, he whimpered. And I know I can’t believe it. Because you never slept with Emerson, did you?"

I shook my head. No. And therefore, you never slept with Lainie. See? I understood it; I just didn’t fully believe it. "But I want proof, Har. Cuz I’m scared."

You’re scared that you love me more than I love you, he insightfully nailed. Because yes, that was exactly it. "And I’m petrified that I love you more than you love me. I get it, P. But I didn’t do it. And there’s no way to prove it, so unless you trust me and forgive me, we’re at an impasse here."

No. I didn’t want that. I wanted us to be us. I know, I agreed. And I don’t want us to be.

He settled back in his bean bag chair. So, what do you propose we do?

Intrigued, I sat up. "What can we do?"

Magic, he replied. Get to the bottom of what happened.

We can’t use our powers to influence love, I reminded him.

He looked at me like I had spoken condescendingly to him. If I had, I hadn’t meant to. Then, he goaded, "P, do you love me? Because I love you. And I think you love me, but I could be wrong on that."

Shut up, I deflected, smacking him on the arm. Of course, I love you, Har. I’m just…

"Scared, hurting… yeah, I get it."

Thinkin’ you must be, too, I realized, hoping we would finally get the chance to lay it all out. Our fights always made me feel alive and on fire, and twisted though it was, I yearned to feel that way again.

He nodded. Mmm hmm. Guess I just hide it better than you.

I giggled. "Right. By pounding eight glasses of champagne?"

Somethin’ like that. He smirked, ran his hand through his combed-much-neater-than-usual locks, and grumbled, "So, thoughts?"

About?

He looked at me as though I should already know, but I made him explain. Magic, P. What are we gonna do to fix things? Before I could repeat his last two words, he expounded, Fix things between the two of us. Cuz neither one of us will survive this impasse, and you know it as much as I do.

Okay. Good point. I did know it. Harley and I were… us. And yes, fighting with him was fun, but the past ten days sure as hell hadn’t been. And no, we couldn’t keep going like this… we just couldn’t. I don’t know, I simplified. I need time to think.

What’s there to think about? he antagonized. "We’re soulmates, and we gotta fix this."

"But if we need fixing, presumably, we’re not soulmates, Harley. Cuz soulmates trust each other, and they don’t cheat on each other." I knew my implications were ugly, but we needed to address the elephant in the room and just have it out about this, once and for all.

He contended, "I forgave you for that."

"I’m not the one who cheated! I kissed a guy! You and Lainie? Not just kissing. So, apples and oranges, Harley!"

He looked annoyed at me. Good. "For the love of God, Persephone, I never slept with Lainie Starr, he weakly defended. And even if I had, which, again, I didn’t, we weren’t together by then because when I saw you and Emerson Luck in that seared embrace that will never, ever, ever leave my mind, I thought you had already left me for him. That you had thrown aside the guy from back home, whose only crime was loving you more than life itself, for your little D-list celebrity professor. Cuz well, he’s twenty-three, rich, purportedly handsome – oh, right – your favorite childhood TV star, worldly–"

I noted, He’s not really a professor.

He looked stung. "Yet, you didn’t argue the other points? He scoffed in disgust. Shit, P, you really do like him."

Harley, that’s not fair! I protested. It wasn’t why I hadn’t challenged his other claims; I just didn’t want him to believe the lie that Emerson was a professor when he wasn’t!

He rolled backwards out of the beanbag chair, grabbed another drink from the cooler, and flopped back into his spot next to me. Yeah. He enjoyed fighting with me as much as I liked fighting with him. And true to form, he egged me on, "You sound like a five-year-old. ‘That’s not fair.’ Grow up, Princess Persephone. Life’s not fair. It never has been, but yeah, I get how that’s news to you."

Cuz I live in my spoiled rotten, privileged bubble? I guessed. He smiled approvingly. Harley! You live the same life I do!

Got that, he agreed. "But I sold my soul to the devil for it."

Ouch. "And I get it handed to me because my daddy is rich. Yeah, I get it, Harley. But when you love someone, you give them everything you can because you want their life to be as good as it can be!"

"Got that. And I gave you my forgiveness," he said softly, playing with the mouth of his Mythic bottle.

His words hung out there. Even I understood. If I loved him, I needed to forgive him. But I couldn’t! Not without the truth. I mean, Lainie Starr! That would be too malicious. Too calculated. Emerson had been, at worst, an impulsive kiss and, more likely, a magically coerced one, but Harley had been in control of his actions that night. I looked into his eyes. Blue, like my soul ever since Montréal, and beautiful and familiar and loving and broken and strange. He searched mine, reading me as powerfully as he could, desperate to find a speck of my love for him within my ice-cold heart.

"Persephone, don’t you get it? The Universe sent us a sign today! You caught the bouquet! I caught the garter! We are meant to be the next ones to get married!" He rolled up and onto his knee and looked sheepishly at me, his eyes seemingly bluer than ever.

"Well, mazel tov, Harley, but it won’t be to each other, so I hope you make someone feel like she’s a really lucky gal."

I watched his eyes literally trying not to tear. "You’re not going to forgive me, he realized. Persephone! I didn’t do it! I’m not dirty! What do you want from me?"

I jumped up and screamed, I want for you to have never slept with Lainie! from deep within my most hidden desires. With those words, I recognized that feeling that had been brewing within me. I hadn’t felt it in so long, but it churned now. My powers! Oh my God! Had I just inadvertently willed something to happen? The flicker of the lavender candle’s flame caught my eye, and I knew I had already offered a sacrifice. Crap! What had I done? I had only said good things. I hadn’t wished anything bad on Lainie; I just wished they hadn’t slept together!

And I didn’t, he reiterated, running his hands into his hair.

I leveled, "Harley, I think I just cast that you didn’t."

So, you cast reality. How novel, he toyed.

"I mean it. When I said it, my stomach churned. My powers."

He nodded. Yeah, but… if you cast us into exactly where we already are, nothing will be different.

"And that’s good, I rationalized. Because if nothing changes, I know you’ve been telling me the truth all along."

"But see, I already know I’ve been telling you the truth all along. And the fact that you don’t really hurts, P. It hurts. He ran his hands into his hair. She cast us into reality? Seriously?" He shook his head.

"It’s worth it to know you didn’t do it," I snapped. Cuz it was.

Oh my God, Persephone! He jumped to his feet. "I told you I didn’t do it, but that wasn’t good enough for you so you cast a spell to – what – prove I didn’t do it? He ran his hands into his hair. Because you don’t believe me and you don’t trust me. Fine. Don’t. But please forgive me. Cuz I need you! Shit. He was a blubbering fool at the moment, and I just wanted to curl into him and make him feel better. Someday, P, you’ve got to! So we can be together, and… Cue sniffling. Cuz I love you! And you love me! And we… we’re just right, you know?" Yeah, I did know. And that was why the past ten days had killed me so much. And now, we were in a reality where I knew it hadn’t happened? So, if nothing changed, I’d know he had been honest with me the whole time! Win-win! So, why was he so upset? "P, I hate who I am without you, and–"