“You don’t want black candles,” he told me.
“I do want black candles,” I replied, ignoring his sounds of disapproval as I continued to count out the candles needed for the party.
“Why?” I could hear the anger in his voice.
Why? “Because you can’t have a spooky party with pink and yellow candles!”
He growled. “Superstition.”
I just rolled my eyes, gathering up my purchases to head to the cashier. I hated his superior voice. “It’s not superstition. That would be believing in a lucky rabbit’s foot or that a crow caw means bad luck.” I glanced at him. “Black candles are just black candles.”
“I won’t come if you are doing demonic… things.”
I laughed, much to his irritation. “Demonic… things? Like demonic line-dancing? Or maybe Demonic tiddlywinks? Oh…. Demonic Risk, now there’s a rocking game.”
“No, you listen. I don’t mind you being a curmudgeon boyfriend, but really, this is too much.” I turned to him between rows of Halloween costumes. Squared off. “Either shut up or don’t come.”
Our eyes locked for a long moment before I turned on my heels and continued to the smiling cashier. Dumping my armload on the counter, I pulled out my Debit card.
“Looks like you are going to have a great party,” she smiled, starting to ring up my purchases.
“Yes,” I agreed with a smile, raising my voice to add, “And that Ouija Board is going to be a blast!”
The store’s door slammed.
Putting him out of mind. I hurried home to begin decorationing.
Michael watched her drive away from the cab of his truck, eyes dark as night. He’d save her… he’d darn well save her… even if she didn’t want to be saved.