Page 3 of The Heartbreak Hex

“I want all your stuff out of my house by tonight,” I seethe at my treacherous ex.

Harry just sighs again, likeI’mbeing unreasonable. “Oh, Gertrude. This didn’t have to be ugly. We could have gone our separate ways and wished each other well. We could have been adults about this.”

“Iaman adult,” I spit at him. “With ajob, and abusiness, and ahouse. Where you are no longer welcome and you’re not on the deed. I’m serious, Harry. Get your crap out of my house or I’ll burn it on the front yard.”

His eyes widen a bit, then he shakes his head. “Jeez, I’ve already moved out. I’m going to be staying with Calliope. Like I said, we have a connection and I want to be with her.”

“Hope she likes dead weight and jobless bums,” I say bitterly, looking away from him. I can’t even bear to look at him for a second longer.

“Seriously, Gertrude. There’s no need to be so nasty. You know that I’m just finding my passion. But, whatever. I wish you well, Gertrude, I truly do.”

His words send the tears back to my eyes. How dare he act like he’s the bigger, more mature person when he’s leavingme to shack up with another woman after just unceremoniously dumping me after five years.

I turn back to say something caustic or biting, something that will let him know that he can’t just get the last word. But when I turn my head, all I see is Harry already walking away, far down the street and I’m left alone on the park bench with nothing but my embarrassment and my broken heart.

Chapter 2

Gertrude

“Good riddance to bad rubbish,” Gretchen says, passing me another bottle of pumpkin ale. “I’ve been saying for years that you can do better than him.”

I flick my fingers with a little pop of magic, sending the bottle cap flying off the ale and then take a healthy swig. This is my . . . I’m not sure how many pumpkin ales I’ve had, actually. When I got back to Eye of Newt, Gretchen took one look at me, shooed the rest of the customers out of the shop, took me home and plied me with drinks. I didn’t even argue with closing the shop early in the middle of busy season. There’s no way that I could have pasted on a smile and interacted with my customers today. I’ll get behind on my fulfilling of orders, but it would be dangerous for me to mix potions right now. I could get something wrong and anything could happen.

“I just can’t believe that he’d leave me to be with Calliope of all people,” I groan, swallowing more ale. My head feels fuzzy and my fingertips are tingling, but it’s still not enough to numb the aching in my heart. I’m not even particularly heartbroken that Harry left me. If he’s going to be with my old bully anddump me with so little feeling then he’s not the werewolf I thought he was. No, I’m heartbroken over the wasted years, the wasted feelings, all the time and energy that I poured into a relationship that left me with nothing in the end. It makes it all seem so pointless.

“It’s because he was always bad news,” Gretchen says matter-of-factly, taking my empty bottle away and handing me another one. “You just couldn’t see it because you had the goo-goo eyes for him.”

“Are you trying to get me drunk?” I ask, changing the subject. I already knew that Gretchen didn’t like Harry and I don’t need reminding that she was apparently right about him.

“Yep,” she says, giving me a not-even-a-little-sorry smile. “You looked like you needed it. At least for tonight. You can be responsible and put-together tomorrow. For now you deserve to drown your sorrows for a bit. Healing will come later.”

“It’s not fun getting drunk alone,” I whine a little. I guess I’m getting more drunk than I thought.

“Oh you won’t be,” Gretchen says, pulling out a bottle from her bottomless bag. “I summoned the good stuff from my house.”

She unscrews the cap and a little zinging scent stings my nostrils.

“Is that . . . peppermint?”

Gretchen flushes a deeper green. “Yeah. Peppermint schnapps. It’s good. Nick gave it to me.”

“Ooooo,” I sing-song. “Junior gave it to you?” Nick is Gretchen’s best friend. They’ve been thick as thieves since they were kids. It’s a little unconventional though because, well, Gretchen’s a Halloween candy witch and Nick istheheir to Christmas, Santa’s oldest son. Nicklaus Kristopher Kringle Junior. He’ll take over the whole Christmas neighborhood someday but I can’t help but tease Gretchen because she’salways had a little crush on him, even though she’d never act on it and ruin their friendship.

If anything Gretchen just gets an even darker green, the color of pine. “Don’t call him Junior. He doesn’t like that.”

“Doesn’t he?” I ask, tipping back my ale and taking another swallow. “It’s what he is. I hear it’s what Old Nick calls him.”

“We all have nicknames that we don’t like very much,” Gretchen says defensively. “Right,‘Trudes?”

I wince at the reminder of Harry. “Hey, low blow.”

My twin has the grace to look penitent. “Sorry. You’re right. Tonight is about you and you alone. But don't call him Junior okay? He really does hate it.”

“‘Kay,” I agree, drinking my ale, but I eye the peppermint schnapps. I am a little curious about the Christmas drink. You don’t get those kinds of flavors in this neighborhood very often.

Gretchen rummages in my cabinet and pulls out some mugs before rubbing her hands together. Piping hot chocolate starts to pour from the air between her hands, filling the mugs with steaming goodness. Being a candy witch, summoning hot cocoa is child’s play for Gretchen and it’s one of her specialties. When she’s done, my twin grabs the bottle, pouringextremelyhealthy amounts of the schnapps inside. She pushes mine over to me and then takes a little sip from her steaming mug.

“Is this wise?” I ask before taking my own sip.Oh my, that’s good.

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