Magically Delicious Page 3

  “Thank the Goddess for that,” Mac laughed. “I was thinking of something more meaningful.”

  “Like what?”

  “Maybe Hildy for our daughter and Charles for our son,” Mac said, rinsing the dishes and piling them in the sink.

  And that’s when I stared to cry. The dishes I held fell to the floor with a crash and shattered into tiny pieces. I gasped in dismay at the mess I made and cried harder.

  “It was just a suggestion.” Mac rushed over and pulled me away from the broken plates and bowls. “We can name them anything you want—even Lucky and Charm. I love the names Lucky and Charm.”

  “I broke your plates,” I whimpered pointing to the pile.

  “No, honey. You broke our plates,” he corrected me.

  “And that’s supposed to make me feel better?” I shouted as a fresh wave of blubbering ensued.

  “No, I just meant… ” Mac said, running both of his hands through his hair in bewilderment. “I meant you didn’t break my plates. I thought that wouldn’t make it as bad.”

  “Don’t think. It’s not helping.”

  “Roger that.” He stood in the middle of the kitchen looking terrified.

  “We don’t have to talk about names,” Mac offered weakly as I continued to stare.

  “Hildy and Charles are beautiful names,” I sobbed. I staggered over to a chair and fell into it.

  “Then we can name them Hildy and Charles,” Mac said looking wildly unsure if that was the correct answer.

  “They’re awful names though,” I blubbered and let my head fall into my hands. “Hildy’s real name was Hildegard—which should be outlawed—and a boy with the name Charles will get his ass kicked on the playground.”

  “Okay,” Mac said with a helpless shrug. “We won’t name them those awful names.”

  “But they’re good names,” I wailed. “They’re perfectly awful.”

  “You lost me,” Mac said, pacing and trying to get a step ahead in the conversation.

  Not possible.

  “Do either of those names have nicknames that would make them different?” I asked, wiping my tears and my nose on a throw pillow. “Sorry,” I mumbled. “I’ll get you a new pillow.”

  “Zelda, everything in this house including the house is ours—not mine. Everything I have is yours.”

  “So I just wiped my snot on my pillow?”

  “Apparently,” he said with a hopeful grin. “Do you want me to snot on a pillow too, so we’re even?”

  “Um… no… but thank you.” I wiggled my fingers and replaced the pillow.

  “Are you okay?” he asked carefully, clearly waiting for another breakdown.

  “I think so,” I told him. “Do you really like those names?”

  “Not sure how to answer that,” he said with a grimace, scooping me up in his strong arms and sitting us down on the couch.

  “Fair enough. I am a little loose cannon-y at the moment.” I cuddled up to him and breathed him in. His scent calmed me and I felt safe and loved.

  “Um… what just happened there?” Mac smoothed my wild red hair off my tear-stained face and kissed my forehead.

  “Not sure,” I admitted, wrinkling my nose. “Something comes over me and I have no choice except to go with it. Earlier it was that my outfit looked cute with my shoes.”

  Mac wisely stayed silent.

  “I’ll try harder to get a grip.” I wasn’t quite sure how to do that, but even I knew I was getting out of control. “Sometimes things like too much pepperoni on the pizza or the color of my fingernail polish sets me off. It’s hard to explain, but I promise I’ll be better.”

  “Nope,” he disagreed. “You can cry about mini skirts, nail polish, pizza, and names all you want. I’ll simply hold you and love you—crazy and all.”

  “You’re a glutton for punishment.” I pressed my lips to his and then laid my head on his chest.

  “Wrong,” he shot back with a happy laugh. “I’m crazy in love with the mother of my children. You do what you gotta do and I’ll have your back all the way, baby.”

  “I love you, Mac.”

  “I love you more, Zelda.”

  “Not possible,” I murmured as my eyes grew heavy. It had been one long freakin’ day.

  “So possible,” he said softly, carrying me back to our bedroom. He tucked me in and then climbed in with me. “Go to sleep, beautiful girl. Sweet dreams.”

  “You too.”

  “My dream already came true,” he whispered into my hair. “She’s in my arms.”

  “That was pretty cheesy.” I giggled and snuggled closer.

  “I thought it was pretty damn good,” Mac said with a very satisfied chuckle.

  I didn’t know what I did right in my life to deserve this kind of happiness, but if I thought about it too much, I’d cry again. We’d had enough of my hormonal histrionics this evening.

  It was perfect.

  And so was he.

  Well, perfect for me.

  Chapter Four

  “What in the ever loving hell?” I grumbled, looking out the window and spying half the town in our front yard.

  I pressed my face to the glass and groaned. There had to be at least twenty-five friends and neighbors on the lawn waving at me like idiots—and Sassy was front and center looking wildly confused.

  I was dressed for a covert eating mission. Glancing down at my camo pants, olive green t-shirt and kick ass combat boots, I let my chin fall to my chest in defeat. The outfit was a sure sign that something was up. Mac had said nothing about my out of character attire. He was gamely going with whatever weird quirks I’d developed. His raising of Jeeves and all his oddities had been outstanding training for dealing with a magically unbalanced pregnant mate.

  How in the Goddess’s name were Sassy and I supposed to go for a walk if I was hosting an impromptu after-breakfast shindig? This was messed up, and if Sassy had leaked our plan, she was getting a purple Mohawk and a chin wart with a gnarly hair sprouting out of it.

  “I have a surprise for you,” Mac announced from behind me, causing me to whip around and almost blast his ass through the roof.

  “Shitballs,” I shouted. “Do not sneak up on a hungry, knocked up witch. You could lose something important which would suck—for both of us.”

  Mac’s laugh earned him an enormous eye roll.

  “We just ate. And if I’m remembering correctly—which I am—you had three veggie omelets, two bananas, a carton of strawberries and a half gallon of orange juice.”

  “And?” I asked with my hands on my hips and my eyes narrowed to slits.

  “And,” he said, not quite as jovial. “I’m thinking it might be time for a snack?”

  I sighed dramatically and moved away from the window. The excited waving mob was too much to take at 8 AM without any real carbs in my system. Maybe I could text Sassy and sneak out the back door.

  Mac rustled around in the kitchen and came back with a Ho Ho as a peace offering. Dangling it provocatively in my face, he made his way to the front door. I followed him like Pavlov’s dogs followed Pavlov. It was not pretty, but he had a Ho Ho.

  “Here’s the deal. You come outside with me. I show you your surprise and then you get the Ho Ho.”

  I considered the terms for all of three seconds before agreeing. “Give me the Ho Ho and you have yourself a bargain,” I told him. I needed to pocket that baby in case my dad was out there. I would smite the bejesus out of anyone who tried to deny me a Ho Ho for my own good—including my sperm donor.

  Mac paused and squinted with his head cocked to the side, but handed the booty over without me having to fight him for it. This was a relief since it would be mortifying to brawl over a Ho Ho. I was now positive he was completely unaware of the evil plot against me. This was good since he obviously knew where my secret stash was.

  “You wanna explain why sea of Shifters are loitering on our lawn?”

  “Nope.”

  “Okay fine. Then what’s the surprise?�
�� I asked as I followed him out to the front porch.

  “Well, it wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you, pretty girl. Take my hand and close your eyes.”

  Closing my eyes, I smiled. Mac’s surprises were awesome. He’d built me a tree house that I called the Floating Nookie Hut. It was beautiful and one of my favorite places in the world. The meadow surrounding it was magical and I often went alone just to think and eat Twinkies.

  The front yard intruders murmured with excitement and I felt a tingle of silly joy in my tummy. As much as I needed some pancakes with hot sauce and whipped cream, the feeling of having real friends around me trumped my cravings.

  We walked a few feet then Mac scooped me up in his arms and continued walking. Cheers and laughter from the happy group made my smile widen.

  “Can I open my eyes?” I asked, willing myself not to peek.

  “Not yet, little witch,” he said with a chuckle.

  After a brisk five-minute walk with the peanut gallery tagging along, Mac put me down on my feet and kissed the top of my head.

  “Open your eyes,” he said.

  I did. And then I closed them and reopened them a few times to make sure I was seeing what I thought I was seeing. In front of me was a charming log home with a wrap around porch. A few comfortable rocking chairs dotted the porch and an outdoor fireplace flickered and burned. Two large bay windows sparkled in the morning sun and I could see beautiful shabby chic-ish looking curtains inside.

  But it was the large sign that made my water works start. OFFICE OF THE SHIFTER WANKER, Walk-Ins Welcome, was carved into a large wooden sign and propped up on the railing.

  I sprinted over with the town on my heels and threw open the front door. There was an adorable waiting room and several rooms set up for patients. Cozy couches and chairs in non-offensive stripes were arranged in a welcoming circle and an official looking receptionist’s desk was on the far wall. A magazine rack loaded with Cosmo, Vogue and National Geographic was conveniently situated near the seating area. A coffee and tea station was to the right of the reception desk.

  “This is for me?” I whispered to an inordinately proud Mac.

  “Yep,” he said, pulling me to the back of the cabin with the mob moving right along with us. “And this is your office.”

  “Oh. My. Goddess,” I gasped out. It was entirely done in dark green, cream, gold and peach. The color scheme went perfectly with my red hair. The couch was the most fabulously odd shape and the chair was done in some kind of silky gold brocade. “Is this what I think it is?”

  “If you think it’s Prada with a little Hermes thrown in, then you’re correct,” Fabio squealed even more excited than I was.

  Dancing around the room with glee, I stopped to kiss Mac soundly and high fived every hand in the room. And then my somewhat uncoordinated gyrating came to an abrupt halt. I really didn’t want to terminate my happy dance, but my newly found, and pain in my ass conscience had reared its ugly little head. Something was not right here.

  “Wait,” I shouted.

  Everybody froze, including the few who were still trying to wedge themselves through the door. Fabio quietly tried slip out of the room.

  “Not so fast, Fabdudio,” I said as I grabbed his hand and yanked him back in. “How exactly was this procured? I wasn’t aware any of this was on the market yet.”

  “What?” Mac questioned, stepping up and giving my sticky fingered father the eyeball.

  “I didn’t steal it,” Fabio protested. “Exactly.”

  “Define exactly,” Mac said, taking the words right out of my mouth.

  “Fine,” Fabio said with a put upon sigh as he made himself comfortable on the green velvet Prada couch. “It’s not on the market yet, but it was so perfect for my girl, I had to have it.”

  “That doesn’t answer the question,” I pointed out, knowing it would kill me for the furniture to have to go. But go it would if he’d stolen it. The irony here was that my dad was loaded. He didn’t need to lift anything.

  “There are several ways to look at it,” Fabio explained as rationally as an irrational warlock with a penchant for helping himself to others’ belongings could. “Yes, I took it out of a showroom in Milan. However, I left an enormous wad of cash—at least two times what the retail’s rumored to be—and a cryptic, unsigned apology note in its place.”

  We all pondered that one for a long moment—he did have an argument. It was weak, but…

  “This one is tricky,” Mac muttered. I could see he was trying not to laugh at the putout yet hopeful expression on my dad’s face.

  “He did pay for it,” Roger the rabbit chimed in. “It’s murky, but not definitively illegal.”

  “I don’t gots no problem with it,” Fat Bastard, my wiseguy cat grunted as he waddled into the room followed by his equally overweight furry cohorts, Boba Fett and Jango Fett.

  All three extended their kitty claws and prepared to sharpen them on my obscenely expensive, questionably acquired couch. Not in this lifetime. I dove at the idiots like an Olympic swimmer going for gold.

  “I don’t know how many lives you dorkfaces have left,” I huffed as I landed on top of them. “But you’re about to be one less if you shed on my couch.”

  “Ease up, Dollface,” Fat Bastard grumbled as he crawled out from under the pile. “We was just humbiebuttwashin’ you.”

  “That’s right. Not a frumbleasswank scratch or hair on it,” Jango concurred indignantly as he lifted his leg and peed on my couch.

  The crowd went silent and crouched down for cover. I wasn’t sure if it was that my cat had just urinated on a fifty thousand dollar couch and they expected my retaliation, or if they thought I’d fry him for calling me a frumbleasswank, whatever the hell that meant. The threesome were forever trying to get new profane catch phrases to take. I was pretty sure the two just uttered had no chance of surviving.

  Not a day went by that I didn’t consider dropping my familiars off at a pound several hundred miles away. However, it would be useless, as they’d always make their way back to me. We were stuck with each other. Forever. Goddess help me.

  “If any of you relieve your bladder on my couch again, I’ll fry your asses so crispy, you’ll pass for fried chicken,” I informed the trio as I stood up far more gracefully than I’d landed.

  With a wave of my hands, I cleaned the couch. And for good measure, I produced three cat carriers and locked the little shits in them.

  “So are we good?” Fabio inquired, rearranging the throw pillows on my now pee-free couch.

  “Zelda?” Mac asked, letting the decision be mine.

  Goddess, what was I supposed to do here? A couple of months ago this would have been a no brainer. I’d have kept the dubious booty and loved it with a passion. But now… I was going to be a mom. Pretty sure moms weren’t supposed to accept hot upholstery.

  “It has to go back,” I choked out, gratefully accepting a paper bag from my therapist, Roger.

  Breathing into it with enormous gulps of air, I was able to stave off the nausea that had overcome me. The thought of saying goodbye to Prada and Hermes was difficult, possibly as difficult as denying myself Ho Hos.

  “That might be a problem,” Fabio said, covertly giving my cats an approving nod.

  “Why?” Mac asked, noticing the exchange.

  “Cuz numbnuts pissed on it,” Fat Bastard announced with pride from his cage as Jango raised his paws over his head in victory. “Can’t return no piss furniture.”

  Dysfunctional didn’t come close to defining my family.

  “He has a point,” Wanda said with a twinkle in her eye.

  Her adorable son Bo was perched on her hip as she examined the damaged couch. My father looked all kinds of guilty and I realized they’d probably planned it.

  “Good by me,” Bob the beaver stated with his unibrow wrinkled in distress or excitement. I was never quite sure. “At least it was paid for. I say we get on the bus and take Zelda berry picking.”

  A c
horus of yesses rang out and I glanced around in confusion and fear. What the hell was Bob talking about? It was December for Goddess’s sake. I had to work out with Sassy. Berry picking was not on my agenda unless they were covered in chocolate and had queso to dip them in.

  That’s when I noticed my dad slipping away and looking mighty proud of himself. This was his idea to keep me away from Ho Hos.

  Not happening.

  “Um, I hate to burst your bubble,” I told everyone as little Bo took my hand and began pulling me along with the exiting group. “Berry season was over a long time ago. There’s frost on the ground.”

  “These are magical berries,” Simon assured me with a smile and a quick hug. “Very healthy and delicious. You’ll love them.”

  “How far are we going?” I asked morosely, pissed for letting myself get shoved onto a bus with all my friends.

  “It’s about fifty or so miles out of town,” Mac said, standing in the door of the bus. “Baby, do you mind if I stay here? I’ve got a few issues I need to follow up on.”

  I almost shouted with joy, but that would be weird even for me. Fifty miles away from town got me out of range of the magical carb-eating fairies—if they existed. I could get lost with Sassy for thirty minutes or so and down a few hundred thousand calories. Win. Win.

  “It’s okay. I’m good,” I said, grabbing Sassy as she passed and pulling her into the seat next to me.

  “Bring me some berries,” Mac said, blowing me a kiss and backing off the bus.

  “Will do,” I promised, returning the air kiss.

  Glancing around the bus, I wondered if anyone was onto me. No one seemed to be staring. My dad got into the driver’s seat and whistled a little tune as he fired up the bus and headed down the drive. Little did Fabdudio know, I was way smarter than him.

  Waaaaaay smarter.

  Chapter Five

  Simon was correct. The berry patch was indeed magical and was exactly fifty-two point seven miles from town—potentially far enough to be carb-eating fairy free. There were berries of every color imaginable. Juicy bursts of color peeked out from bright green leafy bushes as far as the eye could see.