Witch's Diary: A Paranormal Urban Fantasy Tale (Lost Library Book 4) (5 page)

“Naturally.”

Kenna ignored him. “And he confessed he’d had a dry year.” Seeing the appalled response Jack was making no effort to hide, she said, “Just because he’s not a man-whore like you, that’s no reason to be shocked. A year of abstinence isn’t that long.”

Jack uncrossed his arms and leaned his forearms on the table. “I prefer the term ‘sexually liberated.’ Man-whore sounds disgusting. And when was the last time you went a year without any?”

She pointed a finger at him. “Not the point. I told him I was protected. He probably assumed I meant the pill, but I never actually said that. I mean, barren trumps the pill, right?”

“Wrong. And who uses that word? You didn’t get pregnant while you were married. End of story. Besides, who’s to say it wasn’t your bastard, piece-of-shit ex who had the problem? Because, clearly, you got knocked up.”

“If I weren’t so tired, I’d punch you.” Kenna sighed. “And you know he has two kids.”

“You can’t beat me.” He smirked. “I’m bigger than you.”

“Crazy pregnant woman armed with fire. Go ahead, taunt me.” Kenna frowned at him. “And I’m not that small—you’re just freakishly tall.”

Jack closed his eyes and shook his head once. Basically the Jack equivalent of an eye roll. And he was right. He wasn’t exactly freakishly tall. But he was over six feet. Whatever. She was allowed a little poetic license.

“What’s up with the crazy comments? I know some women can be more emotional during pregnancy—but that doesn’t actually make you crazy. Seriously, you need to give yourself a break.” Jack chugged the second half of his beer and got up for another.

“Yeah. Normal women may be a little emotional. But—I’m a witch. That apparently means my hormones are raging sufficiently to create moments of complete emotional instability.” She saluted him with her empty teacup. “Unless we’re drugged with mystical tea.”

She refilled her cup. She was allowed up to a medium pot three times a day. She was sucking the nasty brew down even if it made her gag. Anything to keep the flow of tears and extreme panic in check.

“Hey”—Kenna waggled her eyebrows—“you wanna see it?”

Jack settled back down in his chair with his second beer. “Sure.”

She held one of the candles, and a small flame appeared almost immediately. When she set it down, it continued to burn. “Ha—take that, you little waxy devil.”

“That’s it?” Jack said, pressing his lips firmly together, likely to suppress a shit-eating grin.

“That’s big stuff. It actually stayed lit this time.” She laughed. “Okay. It’s not much, but supposedly I’m going to improve over time.”

Jack chuckled. “Yeah. One hopes.”

After she let her laughter burn itself out, she groaned. “I really don’t know how I’m going to handle all of this.”

“Start with Max. Call him. See if he’ll meet you in person. If he will, then apologize all over yourself for treating him like crap and tell him you’re giving birth to mini-him. You know there’s no other choice. You have to tell him.”

Kenna pushed her teacup away and laid her head on the cool wood of the table.

Jack touched her arm. “The sooner it’s over, the better you’ll feel. And it’s not like he won’t find out eventually. You run in the same crowd.”

Kenna groaned. She knew Jack was right, but she didn’t want him to be. “Quick like ripping off a Band-Aid, right? Okay. I’ll call him.”

Jack tried to hand her phone to her.

“This second? Seriously?”

He put the phone on the table and pushed it toward her. “Yes.”

~*~

Max couldn’t help but remember the unreturned calls, the unacknowledged flowers, and Kenna’s ridiculous attempts to avoid him at Lizzie and John’s house. He got the message. He wasn’t a stalker. But it was unavoidable that Kenna and he would run into each other every once in a while. Their best friends had just gotten engaged. Hell, they’d probably both be in the wedding party. He’d prefer it not be awkward and weird when they eventually did run into each other—but that ship had long sailed.

He wasn’t sure any woman was worth the effort he’d made, even if he did share several friends with her. He’d had enough, so he’d just given up and figured when they ran into each other he’d make the best of it.

Looking at the caller ID of his ringing phone, he had about a second to decide if he was picking up. Shit. “Hey, Kenna.”

“Hey. Can you meet me for lunch?”

Kenna stood apart from the other women he’d dated. Maybe because Kenna and he shared a secret knowledge of magic and things that go bump in the night. Maybe his amped-up interest had been a side effect of the danger they’d shared. He hadn’t had so much adrenaline running through his body since he was in the military. Whatever the reason for his initial interest, the relationship—if you could call it that—had not ended well.

And yet he found himself saying, “Sure. When were you thinking?”

Sure? Sure? She’d yanked him around by the balls for weeks, and he casually agreed to meet the first time she bothered to call him. He was too fricking nice sometimes.

“How about tomorrow?” Her voice came across the phone tense.

She sounded breathier than he remembered. Maybe anxiety played a part. Maybe she’d realized how oddly she’d acted in the last month or so.

“Tomorrow’s Monday?” He mentally reviewed his plans. “I can do lunch.”

Meeting in the middle of the day seemed innocuous enough.

She cleared her throat quietly and said, “Great. Eastside Cafe? Noon?”

“Okay.” And before he could ask her what the hell was so important she was ending her avoidance campaign, she’d hung up.

~*~

Kenna tapped the end call button on her phone then set it down as far from her as she could reach. She pressed her palms against her eyes and groaned. “This is bad. This is so not going to be good.”

“Regretting our behavior, are we?” Jack gave her a look that was obnoxiously lacking in sympathy. She slid her hands to her temple and glared.

“You can’t be shocked I have some sympathy for this guy. He’s me, a few years ago.” Jack thumped his right hand dramatically to his chest. “You broke my poor, pathetic heart.”

“My ass, I broke your heart. We mutually decided not to continue the relationship. Right?” She shook her head. That had been ages ago. She couldn’t exactly remember the details of her love life from that time, and what she did remember was covered in a sticky cloud of emotional goo. Her divorce had been less than a year before she’d met Jack, and it hadn’t been easy for her. But really, she would remember dumping Jack. That hadn’t happened. “Anyway, I thought you didn’t like Max?”

“I didn’t like him when he jacked me around in the midst of your disappearance. I didn’t like him when I thought he’d dumped your smart ass.” Tipping his head to the side thoughtfully, Jack said, “But as things are currently looking, I’m thinking he may have some redeeming qualities.”

That was much too easy. Something was up. “Have you been working with Max on any super-secret projects?”

“Hmm.” Jack’s lips were firmly shut.

“Have you guys bonded over magic and guns?” Kenna couldn’t believe it. She’d bet a few ounces of her special tea that they had. But he wasn’t saying. “Client confidentiality trumps friendship?”

Jack finished off his second beer and still didn’t say a word. His ridiculously obvious silence made his involvement with John’s pack—and Max—crystal clear.

Not cool. Well, she had to admit, not cool until she needed that top-secret, ninja-like silent discretion herself. Dammit. “You better be glad I’m on this tea, because I’d go all scary fire witch on your ass otherwise.”

Jack barked out a surprised laugh. It took him a moment to compose himself, because apparently that was a hilarious image. Ha. What did he know?

When he did finally speak, she could still hear the amusement in his voice. “Planning to bake me a cake and light the candles? Scary.”

“You must have missed Witches 101 when your buddies gave you the briefing on all things magical. Right now, I’m unpredictable, and emotion ratchets up the unpredictability.” She stared at him. “I melted a pregnancy stick.”

“Okay. That’s disgusting—but also scary. I’ll try not to belittle your blossoming powers in the future.” Jack rolled the empty bottle between his hands. “Feeling better?”

“Yeah. But I’m thinking it’s the power of the magical tea, not the power of facing my problems.” She squeezed her eyes shut really tight. When she opened them, she said, “I keep thinking this is all some fake-out. I’m dreaming and will wake up. Or I’m being Punk’d—you know, the magical version.”

Jack grimaced slightly and shook his head. “I’m gonna have to say no.” He paused dramatically. “Kenna, welcome to your life.”

“You’re sure?” Okay, that came out a little whiney. She cleared her throat. “Right, sorry. It’s just that lunch tomorrow seems awfully soon.”

“Quick, like ripping off a Band-Aid,” he reminded her.

“Yeah.” She peeked up at him from under her lashes. “Any chance to salvage your evening?”

In retrospect, she felt a little guilty about crashing his evening plans.

“Absolutely. Don’t worry about it.” He took the hint and got up to chuck his bottle in recycling. Heading to the door, he said, “Call me if you need anything.”

Following behind, she said, “Sure thing.”

When they got to the door, he turned and wrapped her in a fierce hug. He whispered in her ear, “Congratulations.”

Which made her want to cry. So she squeezed back hard for a second then let go and shoved at his chest. She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Thanks. Night. And good luck getting laid.”

He didn’t laugh, like she hoped he would. He knew her too well, knew she was trying to distract him, to hide her surge of panic. He kissed the top of her head and let himself out.

Kenna leaned her back against the door and let herself slide to the floor. The cold tile felt good at first. But when her ass started to feel numb, she figured it was time to get up. And that was when she realized—she had to schedule a doctor’s appointment right away. What kind of doctor did pregnant witches see? Shit.

Chapter 4

Turned out, pregnant witches see the same kind of doctor that every other kind of pregnant woman sees. Kenna rolled her eyes. She should have figured that, but sometimes she unnecessarily complicated her life. She needed to learn to be more like Lizzie. Lizzie dealt with the detritus of life like she did the gems—in an upbeat, carefree way. And she didn’t try to borrow trouble. At least, that was what it seemed like to Kenna. Yeah—maybe that was a goal for next year.

“Kenna. Kenna, are you listening to me?”

Crap. She forgot she was on the phone with her mom. What was wrong with her?

“Geez, I’m sorry, Mom. My brain is leaking out of my ear. Ugh. What did you say?” Kenna tapped the speaker button on her phone and set it down on the kitchen counter.

“I was just saying that I have a recommendation for an obstetrician.”

“Oh—is she a witch?”

Her mom muffled a laugh. “Contrary to how it must feel, there aren’t that many witches running around in Austin. As far as I know, she’s just a great OB. And”—she paused—“your doctor from before isn’t practicing any longer.”

“Well, that’s just as well. Even if she was, I’d take a pass. I don’t need the reminder.” Of her infertility. Of her failed marriage. Of her heartache at learning her husband wanted kids more than he wanted her. Yeah—no thanks. A new doctor was spiffy.

“Yes, well, I called this doctor and she’s accepting new patients. If you’re interested.”

“Done.” Kenna was quick to accept, because knowing her mom, she’d called every person she knew and asked for recommendations and then done hours of research online. Lord love her.

“And if you don’t like her, we’ll find someone else.”

“That sounds great, Mom. Thanks. Hey, is everyone this scatty when they’re pregnant? Sometimes I feel as if even the simplest things are beyond me, like keeping track of a conversation is more than I can handle.”

“The tea is supposed to help. From the kettle whistle in the background, I’m guessing you haven’t had your morning fix.”

“Not yet. It has been really helpful.” Kenna poured the hot water into the waiting teapot. “Wait—did I call you, or did you call me?”

“I called you, honey. I wanted to tell you about the doctor and to let you know I have to make a trip.”

“Really? I called in sick for the next few days—I have the flu, if anyone asks—but I can’t hide in my house indefinitely. You have to show me how this all works. I cannot set anything else on fire, Mom.”

“It’s a quick trip. Just a day or two. Maybe we can meet before I leave? I’m heading out this evening, but I can come by in an hour or so.”

“I can’t. I have an appointment with Max for lunch, to have the talk. Maybe after, assuming I survive lunch.” Kenna groaned.

“Max? I wondered if he might be the one,” her mom mumbled.

“Don’t tell me—you met him in Vegas.” What hadn’t happened in Vegas? Kenna couldn’t believe how much she’d missed in just a few days.

“Hmm? Oh, yes. In Vegas.” Her mom sounded distracted. Her voice stronger, she added, “But he didn’t talk about you. I mean, it wouldn’t have come up.”

“I wouldn’t have thought so.” Kenna rubbed her now dry and gritty eyes. “I don’t really want to discuss Max, Mom. Maybe in a few days?”

“I understand. But I’m glad you’re telling him right away.”

“You should know me well enough to know there was an outside influence. Jack twisted my arm—held my hand, whatever—and got my butt in gear. I would have waited until my bump was huge and I accidentally ran into Max.” Kenna thought about it for a sec—would she have really? “Yeah, I’m pretty sure that’s what I’d have done.”

“Kenna, sometimes you’re too hard on yourself. I have to run. Things to do before I head out tomorrow. This afternoon won’t work, unfortunately. Early evening flight, and with security, you know how that is.”

“Yeah. We’ll chat when you get back. And Mom? Thanks.”

Dammit. It was like she had a built-in five second delay in her brain. Because her mom had long hung up by the time Kenna realized her sweet, crafts-loving mother probably wasn’t going to a pressing knitting extravaganza in her daughter’s time of need. Where exactly did her mom go on all those supposed artsy-craftsy trips?