It Happened One Doomsday by Laurence MacNaughton

would help. This isn’t a cure, but it’s progress.”
    He gave her a tired smile. “You know, I just stopped by to bring you coffee.”
    An idea struck her, something she should have thought of before. “Oh, you know what else? I should probably get some sage and bells, and go clear out the energy in your apartment, too. In fact, if you have time, we should go over there together, so I can check you out and make sure you’re all good.” Dru caught the eyebrow Opal cocked at her and felt herself turning red for no reason. “Just a precaution.”
    Greyson glanced at his watch. “Maybe we could grab some dinner, too. Do you like Italian?”
    Dinner. The word hit Dru like a splash of cold water. “Oh, fudge buckets. What time is it? We have reservations at Chez Monet.” She surveyed the clutter of potions, powders, and empty boxes that covered the counter. “Like right now.”
    Opal stirred from her chair, where she had been experimenting on her nails. “Go, girl. I got this. Don’t you worry.”
    â€œReally?” But she didn’t dare risk giving Opal a chance to change her mind. As she hurriedly scribbled down a receipt for Greyson, she added her phone number. “Call me if anything changes. You’ll be fine, Greyson.”
    He nodded. “I’ll call you.”
    A little voice inside her insisted that she wasn’t done here. That she needed to test the potion more thoroughly and make sure its effects would last. But she didn’t have time if she wanted to make her dinner date.
    She just had to trust that the potion would work, and nothing would go wrong.

7
    HIGHWAY TO HELL
    Dru stepped into the dining room of Chez Monet and took in the intoxicating scent of roses, peonies, and countless other flowers. “This place is magical,” she whispered. But for once, she didn’t mean it literally.
    The crisp white linen tablecloths and softly glowing chandeliers were pretty much what she had expected. But she hadn’t counted on the endless vases of flowers in every imaginable color.
    Brilliant blues. Romantic reds. Delicate yellows. They stretched in all directions, framed by elegantly draped weeping willow branches. Like Monet’s garden spectacularly brought to life.
    Dru felt as if she’d stepped into a different world. As if she’d become someone more special, more fabulous. Someone with refinement and taste and wealth. And a dress with a neckline considerably lower than that of her usual T-shirts. She resisted the urge to tug it upward.
    â€œYou look stunning,” Nate said softly. “Where did you get that dress?”
    She’d had it in her closet for a year now. She’d even shown it to him when she bought it. Not that he’d noticed, apparently, but his appreciation now made up for it.
    This dress was the only decent thing she owned: a burgundy satin number with spaghetti straps and a designer label. She’d been hoping to wear it if Nate ever got around to proposing.
    When he got around to proposing, she told herself. When.
    In the meantime, this might be the only chance she’d get to actually wear it. So she made an effort to enjoy it. And to project an aura of confidence that she desperately wished she felt.
    Nate wore suits all the time. But she’d never seen him dressed quite this sharply before: a tailored charcoal-gray suit with a sky-blue Oxford shirt and matching blue tie. He looked like a movie star. Walking beside him gave her a warm glow.
    As they crossed the dining room, she leaned closer to him. “After dinner,” she whispered, “do you want to take a stroll through the gardens out back, just you and me?”
    â€œOh, there’s Dad.” Nate walked on ahead to greet him, leaving her behind. Dru felt a brief stab of disappointment. But they were here on business, after all. Meeting the filthy-rich investors from Switzerland, who apparently had an