Page 68 of Yours, Now and Always
My cramps are napping.
The pillow under my thighs just sighed.
Everything feels . . .extra.
I don’t know what’s happening. But I’m vibing with it.
“Amelia,” a voice says softly to my right.
I turn my head and find Marin looking at me.
She’s so pretty. Like, even prettier than usual.
I reach out to touch her cheek. “Is this angel skin? It feels like angel skin.”
She frowns. “Okay. That’s...a new level of skincare praise, but I’ll take it.”
I stroke her cheek, very gently. I don’t want to break her angel skin. “It’s not skincare. It’s the gods. They blessed you.”
The light catches her earring and it shimmers. I lean forward and whisper, “Your earrings are humming.”
She stills. “My earrings are humming?”
I nod. “They’re singing to me. In D minor.”
“Riiight.” She drags the word out, slow and suspicious, eyes narrowing slightly. “So. You’re like...vibing today?”
“Marin.” I reach for her hand. “This chair loves me. Like, genuinely. I think we’re in a committed relationship now.”
Her head tilts. Just slightly. “Okay but real talk—did you maybe...spiritually bond with a joint? Or like...astrally ingest a gummy?”
I laugh. “No. I don’t know how to astrally ingest something. You should teach me.”
She nods slowly, but judging by the unconvinced look in her eyes, I’m pretty sure she’s not actually going to teach me. “How much sleep did you get last night?”
“Mmm. Enough.”
“And you ate breakfast,” she says, but it’s more like she’s talking to herself than to me.
“I had eggs and toast, but no coffee. Gage brought the wrong milk. But I’m going to forgive him because that man loves me harder than any man has ever loved anyone, ever.”
She stares at me. “Okay, so no edibles?”
“No. The only other thing I’ve had is a cookie. One of Tim’s healing cookies. It was magical. You should have one. Ingrid and I didn’t eat them all.”
She leans back slightly and gets that look on her face that she gets when she’s figuring out a problem. A bad, terrible, cursed problem.
Then she says very slowly, “So, you and Gage’smotherate some of Tim’s special healing cookies.”
“Only one each,” I reassure her because she sounds a little stressed or mad or something.
She just stares at me. Then she whirls on the room like a siren going off at full volume. “DEFCON ONE, PEOPLE! WE HAVE A SITUATION!”
Heads whip around. Every person in the room looks at us.
“Amelia Sinclair is higher than my hopes during Mercury retrograde. The bride is stoned. I repeat: THE. BRIDE. IS. STONED.”
Tim lifts his sunglasses in slow horror.
