Bread, Coffee, Magic: Baking Up a Magical Midlife, Book 2 (Baking Up a Magical Midlife, Paranormal Women's Fiction Series) by Jessica Rosenberg

Author:Jessica Rosenberg [Rosenberg, Jessica]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Blue Octopus Press
Published: 2022-09-05T16:00:00+00:00

TWENTY

Max stormed out without so much as a glance in Aurie’s direction, and I sent her to get toweled off and dressed. I assured her I would explain over dinner once she was in her pajamas.

Hot chocolate was one of Aurie’s ultimate comfort foods, so I gathered the ingredients for my special hot cocoa. It would be the perfect dessert after we ate the roasted tomato soup and grilled cheese roll-ups I had prepared earlier. As I melted chocolate on the stove and stirred in heavy cream, I marveled at the fact I wasn’t a writhing ball of nerves despite having made the situation worse by giving Max something to fixate on.

Until now, his desire to have Aurie come back to Georgia with him probably had been abstract. Something he thought—or his mother thought—he should do. Believing Aurie was being indoctrinated into a cult was going to light a fire under him that wouldn’t be extinguished until she was back with him full time.

And yet, I felt nothing but elation. I had stood my ground and hadn’t let him cow me or push me around. No wonder boxing and wrestling were a thing. Feeling strong was the greatest sensation in the world.

I was so focused on pouring the right amount of milk into the molten ganache that I didn’t notice Aurie had meandered back into the kitchen until she spoke.

“Can we have mini marshmallows in it?” Her voice was small and subdued, and when I turned to look at her, I was struck by how young she looked in her flowery pajamas with her wet hair brushed straight. She’d gotten so big and independent recently I sometimes forgot just how young she really was.

“Of course! Can you get them out of the pantry? I think there’s a new bag in there.”

I left the hot cocoa simmering on the stove and poured steaming tomato soup into two bowls, hoping the grilled cheese roll-ups made Aurie smile. She usually loved the way the bread and cheese swirled together.

When dinner was deduced to crumbs and tomato stains, I poured piping hot cocoa into two of my psychedelic mugs and brought them to the table. Aurie focused on carefully dotting her cocoa with marshmallows, and I took advantage of the silence to figure out what to tell her. Other than the mandatory Christmas Day and Easter visits to her grandmother’s Methodist church, Aurie hadn’t had much exposure to religion. I’d grown up agnostic and didn’t have much interest in organized religion as a whole, so much to my mother-in-law’s distress, Aurie had grown up shielded from most of it. I didn’t even know where to start when explaining cults.

As was often the case, Aurie surprised me by asking a question I wasn’t prepared to answer. Her small, sad voice tore at my heart.

“Does Daddy hate me now that I’m a witch?” Her eyes never left the marshmallows bobbing in their chocolatey sea.

“No! Of course, he doesn’t hate you! He’s your daddy. He could never hate you!” A flutter of shame beat inside me for saying something I suspected might be a lie.

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