Double Trouble: a Magical Romantic Comedy (with a body count) #13

One wants to take over the world.

The other wants in her pants. Unless she pulls out all the stops, Layla won’t escape her community service time single or sane.

Warning: this novel contains magic, mayhem, unicorns, romance, and bodies. Proceed with Caution.

Double Trouble is book thirteen of the Magical Romantic Comedy (with a body count) series.

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From Chapter One…

In all my time touring North Carolina’s judiciary system, the judge leading a pair of white unicorns into the courtroom took the cake. Damned cupcakes. If it hadn’t been for some damned pixie-dust laced cupcakes a few months ago, I might’ve stayed out of jail for a change, but no. Someone had left pixie-dust infused cupcakes sitting out where I could grab them. Pixie dust beat the other crap I’d shot up, ingested, or otherwise taken during my days as a druggy.

I’d gone down on those cupcakes with my typical kleptomaniac’s restraint, but I hadn’t even gotten to eat one before I’d gotten busted for possession. The count of possession landed me in the slammer for thirty days. The icing on top of the cake that was my life?

My judge had two unicorns with him, which meant I dealt with someone crazier than me. Why couldn’t I have been born a good girl? I’d escaped my mother’s womb destined to create trouble. I’d been so troublesome that I’d landed right into the system, as love sure as hell couldn’t conquer all, and my mother had presented my father with two choices: get rid of me or drown me in the nearest river.

My mother had won that war, but my father sent a card on my birthday every year. Enough to let me know he still cared—but not enough to risk my mother’s love. Go figure.

If I could’ve stolen anything I wanted, I would’ve taken dear old dad just to stick it to my asshole mother, who wanted a bed of roses and a perfect child. She’d gotten me instead, and she liked claiming maybe I was the devil’s daughter rather than some Egyptian chick with cat-like tendencies.

I’d love to be an Egyptian chick with cat-like tendencies.

Then, since my problems obviously had room to worsen, an angel popped into existence near the witness stand.

Great. I’d graduated from a menace to the general public to requiring the state to request divine intervention to deal with me.

The angel’s laughter silenced the typical courtroom chatter. My attorney, an esquire so new the ink hadn’t fully dried on her law license, grunted. Someone needed to tell her grunting made her sound rather like a cow giving birth.

My last community service tour had dumped me on a cow farm, as the judge thought I’d been so full of bullshit I’d be best off learning how to be a productive member of society from my kin. I’d liked that man; he’d told the truth and hadn’t minded when I’d guffawed at his verdict.

The unicorns flattened their ears and regarded the angel with open disdain. The angel fluttered his wings, and the golden bands on the white piqued my interest enough that I sat up for a better look.

“I’m a she today,” the angel corrected, as she laughed again.

“Well, call me baby and spank me with a spork,” I replied with wide eyes. “You just pick when you want to be a man angel or a woman angel at your whim?”

“That is correct. First time?”

“In jail, at court, meeting an angel, seeing a unicorn, or mouthing off to a judge?”

“I was going for meeting an angel, but I am curious to hear your answers for all.” The angel hopped, landed on the banister, and made herself comfortable.

“You know, if I sat on the witness stand like that while naked, I’d be tossed into prison again, but probably without parole this time.” I considered the unfairness of it all, although I guess she met the basic standards of society; she didn’t have nipples or genitals of any sort. “No, no, yes, yes, and no. I figured they’d wait for a bigger offense than stealing some laced cupcakes before they called in the big guns to deal with me. That’ll be a fun story to tell my next roommate while in the slammer. I’m so much trouble the court system required divine intervention to decide what to do with me.”

“All rise. This court is now in session with the Honorable Judge Marlow Davids presiding,” the bailiff announced. I hadn’t run into him before, a surprise considering how many times I’d been to courthouses scattered across the state.

“All but the jury may be seated.” The judge, rather than sitting as I expected, stood behind his chair and overlooked the crowd of curious onlookers.

For some damned reason or another, my sessions tended to draw a crowd. I bet it was my charming personality, my natural curls, or that I always managed to find a way to entertain.

The rest of my life involved hopping from prison to prison and courtroom to courtroom, so why not enjoy it? I’d done a good enough job; I’d kicked the nasty drugs, although pixie dust always managed to break my good streak. It didn’t count, did it? Pixie dust, when paid for properly, was fair game. I hadn’t even stolen cupcakes with the good stuff. The high might’ve lasted for ten minutes. Maybe.

The bailiff swore the jury in, and I muttered over my damned luck.

Why did a cupcake theft need a damned jury?

Oh, right. I’d put so many counts of theft onto my rap sheet the judges no longer printed them out for fear of breaking the tables. Given a year and a few opportunities, my list of crimes would be longer than the tax code.

After the state prosecutor and my attorney did their opening dance, the judge sat, made me sit at the witness stand, swore me in, and slapped a folder to the polished surface of his stand. He heaved a sigh. “Instead of the standard questioning session, we’re going to do things a little differently today, as we have an angel in attendance to make sure the truth and nothing but the truth is spoken for this trial. I recommend against any acts of perjury, as you will be caught. Miss Kellen, what do you have to say for yourself this time?”

“I only regret I didn’t get to eat one of the cupcakes before being apprehended for stealing them. It seems like a shame I get to spend the rest of my life in prison without tasting the cupcakes first. It’s obvious, Your Honor. I have a kleptomaniac’s restraint, and it’s not like being a goody-goody will do me a lick of good at this stage.” As I was rather proud of my rap sheet rivaling the tax code, I asked, “If you printed my rap sheet, would it compare to the tax code yet? I have a burning need to know. I mean, I’d definitely like to know before I accept my one-way ticket to hell. That’s why you brought in an angel, right? North Carolina has finally come to terms that I’m unsalvageable and has requested my custody be transferred to Satan? It would be a sensible thing to do.”

Everyone in the courtroom stared at me, and Judge Davids lifted his hand and rested it against his forehead, likely praying for patience.

He’d need a lot of it to deal with me. Some criminals did the whole remorse thing well, but I’d figured out from an early age I lacked any sort of redeeming quality. Why live a lie?

My attorney bowed her head. “I apologize, Your Honor.”

“It’s certainly not your fault that your client is difficult at best, Esquire.” Judge Davids slapped the desk with the folder again. Did he really think it would help? I’d learned the hard way that smashing one’s head or property into things didn’t do jack shit on a good day. I assumed the judge was not having a good day.

I was involved in the case, and that would make his life difficult by default.

The angel snorted.

“How does a being without a head snort?” I asked.

“Very carefully,” she replied. “The splendor of my appearance would wipe you out of existence, and I’d rather not disintegrate any curious mortals today. It’s such a burden being so magnificent.”

“Isn’t pride a sin?”

“No. Pride without substance is a sin. I spoke nothing but the truth.”

“Are all angels as badass as you are?”

“As a matter of fact, yes.”

Hot damn with a hell of a good cupcake. “You must be pretty miffed you got called in to deal with a cupcake thief. I mean, if I were in charge of the judicial system, I wouldn’t have fast-tracked little old me for some divine intervention. While my kleptomaniac tendencies tend to cost the system money, there’s a difference between a courtroom for twenty minutes to confirm I’m unsalvageable versus an angel and a circus. No offense to the jury who was recruited, probably against their will, to take part in this circus. But this circus has unicorns. How cool is that? I just thought unicorns were even more of a myth than angels until now, but this circus has two unicorns. Which is pretty nuts. Shouldn’t the real cases get the unicorns? Like a serial killer or something?”

“Miss Kellen,” the judge scolded. “It’s not social hour.”

It wasn’t? I scoffed at that, but I sat back in my seat and waited for the judge to get around to making me answer more questions guaranteed to send me back to prison where I belonged.

“As it has been generally determined from your record and behavior in court that traditional rehabilitation methods are unsuitable for your specific circumstances, the court has decided you will need more extreme measures to ensure you become a viable part of society rather than a menace and a drain.”

“To be fair, I think I’m only a menace to myself and any pixie-dust laced products, such as cupcakes, that happen to be left unattended in my path. I haven’t touched the hard stuff in six months. And let me tell you, the withdrawal off that shit is a monster. If you’re looking for reassurances I won’t be diving back into that crap, well, I walked by a dealer with the kind of stuff that’ll put you in your grave before I spotted the cupcakes, and I managed to say no. Actually, I deserve the cupcakes for saying no to the nastier temptation. The cupcakes were too much, though. Pixie dust won’t kill you. It might make you a mindless slave for a while if you get the good stuff, but it won’t kill you.”

I’d been pretty proud of saying no for like the first time in my life. Temptation hadn’t gotten me until I’d seen the damned cupcakes. They’d been double chocolate with a pink, glittery coating on top, begging me to eat one.

They’d just looked so damned tasty.

“She speaks the truth,” the angel announced. “Additional detoxification might be an idea, as she is still struggling with withdrawal and dependency issues, but she is genuinely making an effort. Had the pixie dust been delivered in a fashion other than a cupcake, she may even have resisted. I do believe the delivery method was more enticing than the drug itself.”

I considered my thoughts, realized the angel made a damned good point, and shrugged. “Give me a hot man and a double chocolate cupcake. I’d eat right out of his hand and off his chest, and I’d take extra care with the crumbs and icing. He’d be very clean when I finished with him and my cupcake. It’s a real issue.”

The angel snickered, as did the entirety of the jury.

“Miss Kellen, please try to remember this is a court of law,” the judge scolded.

“Oh, I remember. I just don’t care. It’s not like I didn’t earn being here. If I’m going to go down, I may as well have some fun with it. Being all sober and serious isn’t going to make my case look any better. I stole the cupcakes, and really, not even an angel can save me from myself. I’m a bad egg, and that’s that. Just ask my mother.”

“The court is of the opinion that parental abuse is the reason you’re troubled, and we have sufficient evidence to warrant extenuating circumstances regarding your behavior, and that a non-traditional rehabilitation method is required. For most thieves and criminals, traditional methods can render acceptable results for reform. The system, frankly, has failed to consider your specific circumstances,” Judge Davids replied. “As such, the state of North Carolina requested additional assistance with your case. There are victims, such as the owner of the cupcakes you stole, and then there are those like you.”

“You mean long-term drug addicts with a kleptomaniac’s restraint?”

The angel laughed. “You’re rather fond of that phrase. It’s cute, really.”

Huh. An angel thought I was cute? “When you decide you’re a male angel, how do you feel about humans eating cupcakes off your chest? I mean, you do have a very nice chest, and I currently have a selection of zero male chests for eating cupcakes from.”

“While I am flattered you believe my chest is suitable for your cupcake-eating adventures, I think you will find you will be able to abandon your current innocence through the seductive use of confectionaries in the future in a much more beneficial manner,” the angel replied with laughter in her voice.

I could listen to an angel laugh all day long without regret. “I should feel sad I’ve been rejected by an angel, but you find me amusing, and I’m all right with that. Also, you seem strangely confident I might be able to have a cupcake-eating adventure involving the chest of a man. I’d much prefer a smoking hot man, but honestly, I’ll take any half-decent man available.”

Virginity was overrated, but most men my age seemed to want clean, nice women to be the mother of their little babies. I had worked hard at the being clean part of things, but I had a long way to go in the nice department, and the last thing I wanted was to be a mother like my mother.

“You’re a refreshing human.”

“I hope that doesn’t mean you’re about to liquify me and drink me down like a glass of lemonade. Lemonade is refreshing. I’m not sure people juice would be refreshing, and I don’t really want to find out.”

The angel laughed. “You are at no risk of being liquified and treated like a glass of lemonade.”

“Well, that’s something. Not as good as a cupcake on a hot man, but I can work with it.”

“Miss Kellen, please try not to turn this court into a circus,” Judge Davids chided.

“Were you expecting anything other than a circus in a courtroom with two unicorns, an angel, and a jury likely regretting they got out of bed this morning once they realized they had to deal with me?”

“I was hoping for something other than a circus, as this is a courtroom.”

“Honestly, I’m okay if we just skip straight to the sentencing. That file tells you everything you need to know about me, and I don’t think even an angel could salvage anything from me at this point in time. It’s not like the state of North Carolina hasn’t been trying since I turned three.”

“That is part of the reason there’s an angel in attendance today. You have been in the foster system since you were three, and there have been little to no positive results after you were sent to correctional facilities.”

“Well, yeah. What do you expect when your mother wanted to drown you in the nearest body of water because you’re a menace? I can’t really say it’s my fault specifically. Infants are generally innocent enough creatures, and she wanted to off me since the day I was born. I mean, it’s nice that Dad sends cards for my birthday, but let’s not delude ourselves here. He’s probably glad I’m out of the picture. Maybe he wised up and started making use of birth control since my mother’s too stupid to. She would’ve saved herself a lot of problems if she’d bothered with base protections since she didn’t want kids that badly. Dad? He actually likes helpless humans, which is probably why I survived up until the age of three to enter the system.”

Silence was a funny thing. When large numbers of people crowded into small spaces, a room never fell truly silent, but the courtroom got as close as it could. A few shifted in their seats, likely uncomfortable with my blunt admissions on my upbringing—or lack thereof. Some probably considered the psychological damage of someone’s mother wanting to drown them from birth.

Judge Davids stared in the general vicinity of where the angel’s head should have been. “Would you verify the truth of her statement, please?”

“Humanity is both capable of the greatest of goods and the worst of sins. She spoke the truth and nothing but the truth, no matter how difficult that truth is to hear.”

Great. Even the angel pitied me. I was on a roll. Maybe instead of a standard prison, they’d send me off so I could join the rest of the lunatics up for treatments in the government’s system. “I don’t suppose someone has a spare cupcake topped with pixie dust available? I could use one right about now.”

Unless North Carolina changed its tune and removed me from its list of drug abusers, I wouldn’t be seeing much of any pixie dust, as they required photo identification to place any order. Mine had a little logo that stated I wasn’t to be given any substances whatsoever, including pixie dust.

“I trust you are aware that even pixie dust violates your current terms of parole, Miss Kellen?”

I shrugged. “Yep. Personally, I think it’s stupid. If I could just wander to a coffee shop and walk out with a high, I probably wouldn’t have experimented as hard on that crap that probably cut off a good twenty years of my life. The good girls and boys get the highs us abusers are denied. I mean, I could leave North Carolina, except I’d just start making a new rap sheet in a different state. Not that I can afford to leave North Carolina. Well, unless you brought the unicorns so I could steal one and ride off into the sunset?” I eyed the two animals, which looked like white horses with gray tinging their muzzles. “Your unicorns look a little corrupted. They’re not pure white. I thought they were supposed to be pure white. Are they naughty unicorns with their naughtiness showing?” I pointed at the larger of the two, very obviously a stallion with his head held high. “That one looks particularly naughty. He has more gray than the other one. I’m not sure if the other one is a male or female, but he’s definitely a male.”

“The other one is a she. They are standard unicorns, and as they age, their coats will brighten. They’re rather young.”

“They are? How young are they?”

“The stallion is in his early thirties, and his sister is in her twenties. By fifty, they will be true white,” the judge replied. “You may not steal either unicorn.”

“Well, that’s a pity. I think I should be able to steal one of them. You brought them here. Isn’t that the equivalent to inviting me to steal one? I’m well known for stealing things. Apparently, possession being a specific fraction of the law does not actually apply.”

“I didn’t bring them here to be stolen, Miss Kellen.”

I rolled my eyes at that. “You could compromise with me. Come on, it’s just one unicorn.”

“You can’t steal a unicorn, but you will be accompanying both of them to a place of this court’s choosing for your rehabilitation program.”

My mouth dropped open, and I stared at the judge. “We already know I’m crazy, but if you need help, I can recommend a few good psychologists. North Carolina helpfully provides them for the crazy people like me, but with all due respect, Your Honor, that’s just nuts.”

According to the judge’s expression, he gave my words some serious thought. “Miss Kellen, please.”

“If you already know what you’re going to do with me, why is there even a jury? I mean, trials are supposed to be about trying me for a crime, right? This is more like a disjointed circus where the ringmaster has finally snapped, the critters are staging a revolt, and the angel… well, I’m not sure why the angel is really here. I might have no restraint and a tendency to steal things, but I’m honest about it. I’m the most honest crook there is. Straighter than an arrow, that’s me. Also, since we’re being all forthcoming and everything, I’m definitely way straighter than an arrow. No crazy stuff for me. I guess I probably wouldn’t say no if an incubus strutted up and asked me to lick a cupcake off his chest. I mean, who am I kidding? I’m definitely not saying no to that.”

“Miss Kellen, please. Your love life is not up on trial.”

“It wouldn’t be much of a trial. My sexual misconduct record is non-existent.”

“Miss Kellen.”

“What? It’s true. My sexual conduct record? Also, non-existent. Look, even in prison, the inmates? They don’t want this sort of crazy. Actually, I have a history of shanking anyone who tries anything stupid, and I get real creative when I shank someone,” I chirped.

“Please tell me she’s not telling the truth,” the judge begged. 

“She’s telling the truth,” the angel confirmed.

“Why aren’t these shanking incidents listed in your record?”

“Because the prison guards reviewed the tapes and determined it was an act of self-defense. Self-defense in prison doesn’t get added to the record. If they hadn’t tried to get uppity, I wouldn’t have had a need to shank them.” I shrugged. “Let me tell you something, though. Shanking someone with a bowl is hard work.”

Once again, silence fell over the room, and both unicorns stared at me. The stallion canted his head, one ear twisted back and one ear forward.

“Yeah, buddy. I’d wise up and put those nice, shiny hooves of yours to good use, as I am totally the kind to shank a bitch with a bowl.”

The judge looked ready to cry. “How do you shank someone with a bowl?”

“You hit them really hard, and when it finally breaks, you use the edge as your shank. You hit them really hard numerous times until you cut them. For the record, prison bowls? They don’t really make good shivs or shanks. They don’t like giving inmates anything that might be used as a shiv. I mean, the bowl definitely did some cutting, but it’s really the wrong shape to classify as either a shiv or shank. The guards praised me for defending myself until they could intervene, however. When in prison and there’s not much else to do, well, I exercise.” I showed off my rather defined bicep. “See?”

As someone who rarely received praise, I’d basked in the glow of having beat an asshole with a bowl and being complimented on doing it.

“She is telling the truth,” the angel confirmed.

“The jury is present to evaluate your case and determine how long is a fair time for your punishment and rehabilitation,” the judge announced.

“I thought that was your job. You just go with it if the jury says I’m guilty. By the way, I’m guilty.”

“The court has decided that your situation requires special care. It’s obvious our previous measures have been ineffective.”

“The court, with all due respect, Your Honor, has lost its marbles providing someone like me with an angel and two unicorns. I’m still not sure how the unicorns play into this, as you seem determined to prevent me from stealing them. I’d totally steal the stallion, though. I could put him up on show and make a fortune showing him off. He’s pretty. You can’t show me pretty things and expect me to not want to steal them. Sorry to the unicorn’s sister. You’re also pretty, but he’s totally prettier. He looks extra naughty with a side dish of naughty, and apparently, I like that sort of thing? You’re kind of pure compared to him.”

The unicorns stared at me, likely questioning why they’d agreed to become involved with my case.

“The unicorns require a caretaker, Miss Kellen. You have been selected.”

A laugh burst out of me, and I doubled over, tears stinging my eyes while I gasped for breath. “You have got to be kidding me.”

“He is telling the truth,” the angel announced.

“Did someone finally counter shank me in prison? This could be a concussion-induced hallucination that just happened to coincide with my court date. Let me tell you, I’ve been looking forward to this.” I checked my non-existent watch, as inmates weren’t allowed such nice things. It was less that it was a nice thing, and more that a few inmates had figured out how to weaponize even watches, so they were taken away as a safety precaution.

I had a little to do with that, as I’d taken a watch and forcibly shoved it down an asshole’s throat for trying to cop a feel. If the asshole hadn’t tried to cop a feel, I wouldn’t have gotten creative.

“That gesture worries me,” the judge muttered.

“Two months, three weeks, and three days waiting to meet you, Judge Davids. That’s what my attorney told me earlier. Really, you seem pretty cool for a judge, so the wait was worth it.” I checked my imaginary watch and squinted. “My hour and minute hands seem to have vanished, so I can’t give you the exact time, sorry.”

“It takes time to make arrangements of this nature. You also signed the paper consenting to a delay in your trial for your cupcake theft. You told your parole officer you deserved a minimum of three months for snatching the cupcake, and that you thought this was fair.”

“Well, it is. I totally violated my parole. Honestly, I do not understand why I was let out on parole in the first place. I’m hopeless.”

“The court doesn’t feel that way. The court feels that you haven’t been given sufficient opportunities to experience a positive household with responsibilities and rewards for accomplishing those responsibilities.”

“You mean a paycheck?”

“I do.”

“Inmates get a paycheck, almost. Sorta. Well, not really. It’s a buck fifty an hour, and if we get through our parole terms, the state cuts the check as compensation. I mean, I assume the rest of the minimum wage went to the taxes and boarding expenses of being in jail, which is fair enough, but a buck fifty an hour doesn’t go all that far, or so I’ve been told. As I’ve never made it through parole, that check’s not coming. I’m just being realistic. But the motivational stubs I get once a month are fun to think about, I guess. Let’s say you all let me out of parole today. According to my attorney, if I’m released on a six-month term and if I make it, I’d get a check for fifty thousand dollars. For the record, that’s for fifteen years as paid work, as they kindly started paying me to do work when I was twelve. Or so my attorney says. Also, Your Honor, you should probably tell somebody child labor is bad. I’m not exactly the shining example of goodness here, but even I’ve figured that out.”

Ah, good old silence spurred on by the discomfort of those just realizing for the first time their system really made use of child labor as part of its rehabilitation program.

The judge scowled and flipped through my file. “The judiciary system didn’t see fit to include your prison work record with your general information.”

“Well, it’d be real stupid of them to put in just how much they’d owe me if I ever did make it out of the slammer. Also, they don’t pay out overtime, and they assume we get two weeks of vacation, which we don’t. We work six days a week, eight hours a day when in the work camps, and even if we’re not assigned to a work camp, we’re doing something productive to the system. Also, if you ever tear those robes, let me know. I’ve got a mean stitch, and I can make those tears disappear without a trace. I’m not a great person, sure, but I work like I mean it.”

I had plans for my fifty thousand if I ever got my dirty hands on it.

“Can you verify the truth of her statement, please?”

“She’s telling the truth,” the angel reported, and I marveled that a being lacking a head could spit words so effectively. “I would recommend you ask a few questions regarding when she first learned to sew in the prison system.”

I enjoyed the angel’s laughter, but her anger made me want to leave the room immediately and climb into the nearest sewer, where it’d be a lot safer.

“Thank you. Miss Kellen? How old were you when you learned to sew in the prison system?”

“How old was I when I went to prison for the first time? It’s been a while.”

“I have the date here. You were five, almost six.”

“That old.”

“She speaks the truth,” the angel announced.

“How many hours were you expected to sew or do other tasks?”

“Not much has changed over the years,” I replied, wondering if I stepped into some form of trap or another.

“When did you learn to read and write?”

I arched a brow at the judge. “Who said I could read or write?”

For the first time in my life, I witnessed a judge erupt, spew curses vile enough even my fellow inmates hesitated to use them, and storm out of the courtroom, informing everyone between profanities the court session would resume in an hour. He ushered in a different sort of silence, one I wanted to break before the attention of everyone in the room made me snap, too.

I shrugged. “If you think the read and write thing is bad, I count to a hundred by counting how many times it takes me to count to ten. After that, things get a little confusing, but whatever. That whole thing with fifty thousand? That’s what I was told when I asked the corrections officer, which my attorney confirmed. Bless their hearts, they did try to explain the numbers to me, but they don’t make sense, you know? But don’t worry about it. I just ask somebody to read for me if needed. It’s not a big deal, really.”

If anything, my words deepened the silence.

“It is a big deal,” the angel said, and all I heard was sadness in her tone. “That is the sound of guilt, for even the hardest of hearts understand you were robbed of something far more valuable than anything you have pilfered over your years.”

“Huh. Really? What’s that?”

“Your childhood, of course.”

Of course. “Well, I’m not really worried about it. I mean, what would I even do with fifty thousand? Well, beyond buy cupcakes. Hey, how many cupcakes could I buy with that much?”

“I could tell you the number, but would it mean anything to you?” the angel asked.

“Well, not really. Is it a lot of cupcakes?”

“You could fill this entire courtroom with cupcakes with that much money.”

My eyes widened, and I whistled. “I’m going to need a really patient man if I’m going to be eating that many cupcakes off his chest. Damn.”

The angel laughed, and I appreciated how everyone else in the room relaxed at the sound. “And many, many long years.”

I guess I would, to eat that many cupcakes. “Oh, well. A girl can dream, right?”

“You certainly can,” the angel replied, her tone solemn. “But I’m certain you can find something better to do with all that money.”

“You act like I’ll ever see it.”

“You will,” the angel replied. “It’s only a matter of time. I think you’ll still find things will work out in your favor for a change.”

“That’ll take a miracle,” I muttered.

“Or a pair of unicorns and a few cupcakes.”

“With pixie dust on top?”

The angel laughed. “You won’t need any pixie dust to find happiness. You’ll see.”

Angels were crazy, but since I wasn’t one to talk, I kept quiet.