Honeymoon of the Dead by Tate Hallaway Page B

grain on the table seemed infinitely more fascinating at the moment.
    “Nothing has really worked out in the romance department, honestly.”
    I looked up at the quaver in his voice. Was he going to cry?
    In an uncharacteristically bold move, he grabbed my hand. My sense of balance shifted, but I didn’t get double vision at least. I resisted the urge to pull away with clenched teeth.
    “I’ve only ever loved you, Garnet,” he said. He brought my knuckles to his lips and kissed them.
    “Uh . . .” There was so much wrong here, including the strange desire I had to grab his lapels and smash my lips into his. So I blurted out, “I’m married now. Didn’t I mention it?”
    His eyes widened and he stared at the ring on my hand, and then let go like it was hot. “Oh. Uh. Congratulations.”
    “Thanks,” I said, feeling more than a little awkward and cruel. Here I was hurting this guy over and over again.
    Larkin sat back in the seat and his shoulders slumped, defeated. My heart did a little thump in my chest. He looked so cute. I just wanted to take him home and take care of him. Of course, it had been that feeling that had gotten us in trouble in the first place.
    He let out a long, slow breath, as if coming back to himself. He put on a brave smile that made my heart ache. “You know what’s weird?” Larkin asked. “I swear I had a dream about you a couple of months ago. It was about you getting married, I think.”
    “How funny,” I mumbled. That had been yet another magical goof-up of mine. When Sebastian and I were sending out invitations to our wedding, I’d been disappointed that so many of my friends in Minneapolis thought I was dead, so I’d conjured up a spell that sent out a “dream invitation.” Except I kind of forgot to put a friends’ filter on it. Everyone I ever knew got it, even sworn enemies.
    I think I’m lucky Larkin never owned a car, or he might have spoiled that whole “any objections” moment at the wedding.
    “So . . . what have you been up to, anyway?” he asked tentatively, clearly trying to make nice and be all adult with his see-we-can-be-friends tone. “I thought of you the other day. I saw your old tarot deck on the used shelf at Present Moment.”
    “What? You did? How did you know it was mine?”
    “It was still in that case you made. Your name was on it. I almost bought it as a memory of you.”
    I tugged my ear. “Ah.”
    It was weird to think of my stuff out there, but the moony look in Larkin’s eye was even stranger.
    Luckily, the cook called my name and order, so I had to excuse myself for a moment to go fetch my food. After grabbing a tray and silverware, I stopped to dig two quarters from my pocket and refill my coffee.
    Finally, I couldn’t delay any longer. I returned to Larkin’s expectant face.
    “So, you never said what you’ve been up to,” he said the second I sat.
    What was I going to tell Larkin? Well, let’s see, after killing the witch hunters with the help of the Queen of Hell, I moved to Madison, fell in love with a vampire, fought off zombies, shape-shifters, and a crazy ex-girlfriend of Sebastian’s who was now dead, sort of. Oh, and I formed a new coven and got married to the vampire, who has a kind-of-teenage-mostly-immortal son.
    Maybe I should just lie.
    I set my tray down. “Yeah,” I said, stuffing broccoli and eggs into my mouth quickly, “I’ve been okay. Living in Madison now. Sebastian and I have a farm. Well, really, it’s Sebastian’s, but . . .” Larkin looked pretty crushed. Maybe the less talking about the new guy, the better.
    “So where is this husband of yours? I mean, are you here alone?”
    Okay, so it was stupid, but I started to cry. Maybe it was all the stress of seeing Larkin again, nothing being the way I remembered it. I don’t know, but I found myself blubbering a bit.
    “Oh,” he said, helpfully. A little glimmer of something akin to hope flashed in his eye. “Oh. I’m so sorry.”
    He sounded