Page 92 of Cursing My Cheating Husband

“Wow. Perfect timing.” I picked up my fork. “You’d almost think you’re the magical one.”

Maddox got his own plate and sat next to me. “When you’re really stressed, you always sleep exactly five hours. You don’t have a setting for less than that. You fell asleep at midnight. No magic required, just math.”

I bit into the omelet, and it was fluffy and rich, exactly as I liked it.

It took me back to that first omelet I’d demanded he cook for me, the evening after he’d first come crawling back hoping to get uncursed. I could never have imagined my punishment would develop into an actual culinary passion for Maddox. He took such joy in tinkering around with slight variations and trying to get each one just right for me.

“I keep thinking about how different this would have looked if I’d been doing it alone. I couldn’t have done it without you,” I said.

He gently put his hand on my thigh. “You absolutely could have.”

I ran down the list. “You’ve been handling all the paperwork, you’re completely holding things down at home, you’re basically feeding me every meal⁠—”

“Because you need to be free to do the real work. I’m helping you get it done quicker and with less stress. My contributions are at the margins. You’re the star.”

“It was nice to just be able to practice and study,” I conceded. Short of the actual cursing, I had been practicing everything else to death. Truth-searching spells, to make sure my clients had been authentically wronged, and weren’t lying to get me to punish someone who didn’t deserve it. Financial capacity magic to price my services on a reasonable sliding scale.

And I’d been studying the principles of curse magic extensively, with the top teachers. My improvisational skills were excellent, but it seemed irresponsible to rely on them when charging clients to curse their betrayers.

But at the end of the day, you couldn’t practice a curse. You either cursed someone or you didn’t. I could do all the prep work I wanted, but the core of this whole venture… I just had to prep as hard as I could, and then hope I could deliver in the moment.

“Don’t worry,” Maddox said in response to my expression. “You’re amazing at this. I’m the proof. Everything is going to go great.”

His confidence centered me, and reminded me I actually shared it.

Yes, there was some part of me that had doubts, and it flared up now and again. But I believed in my business plan and my magical ability.

Maddox was right. This was going to work. For the first week, I only needed to help one person. Deliver one good curse, and the rest would follow.

As we ate breakfast, we debated where to go for our celebratory dinner at the end of the week. I spent the rest of the morning reviewing curse magic principles one more time, then we walked the fifteen minutes to Restorative Curses together. Maddox took my hand as we stepped outside, his fingers warm and steady around mine.

We arrived at Oleander Lane. We’d chosen a street with steady foot traffic, but without the overwhelming chaos of the main drag. Close enough to catch curious tourists, far enough not to feel like part of the circus.

As we turned onto our block, I enjoyed watching the Restorative Curses sign come into view. Maddox had taken care of finding and hiring the witch who designed it, and it was gorgeous.

I was so focused on the sign that I barely noticed when Maddox squeezed my hand and stopped walking.

“What is it?”

Maddox pointed to the door, and I gasped.

A gorgeous calico cat sat serenely on the front step.

“Could that be…?” Maddox whispered.

“Maybe,” I said, afraid to get excited. I’d confessed my dwindling hope that a familiar would ever show up, and my fear that if one never did, it would mean Restorative Curses had been misguided from the start.

We approached slowly.

“How do we know if it’s a familiar, or just a stray?” Maddox asked.

“Just a stray?” the cat said. She peered at Maddox and narrowed her eyes. “I can already tell you’re going to be trouble.” She turned to me. “Hello, Callie. I’m Anya, your familiar.”

To my surprise, I burst into tears.

“Yes, you may pick me up,” Anya said.

I grabbed her and squeezed her tight, breathing in the warmth of her fur.