She’d just never imagined it would take this long to come to consensus. But witch politics had filibuster in common with nonmagical committees, and now she had far too much personal experience with the excruciatingly slow progress of both. The debate went on for nearly an hour, until she finally lost what remained of her patience.

“If I agree to all the amendments, can we finally post this? I’ve shared the short list of media sites that I’ll be—”

“Yes, yes. All in favor?”

Oh sure, interrupt me.

With effort born of long practice, she held her temper. The poll went up, and at last, they reached a majority in favor. It’s really happening. Today’s the day.

Leanne clicked out of the conference chat before the fickle council could change their minds. No take backs. I’m finally doing this.

Her fingers shook a little as she copied the press release, double-checked the content, then hit send. She didn’t bother asking Clem for the viral spell, figuring it would gain traction on its own. After closing her laptop, she rushed out to the living room, where Trev was settling Melanie in her swing. That was the one baby accessory she wouldn’t trade for ten million bucks, as it soothed this difficult child like nothing else. Already, she was blinking big hazel eyes, so like her dad’s, nodding off as the seat gently swayed back and forth. A few minutes later, Trev pulled Melanie out and settled their daughter in her crib for a nap, then returned to hear Leanne’s news. He’d learned to read her well.

“I did it,” she said.

“Did what?”

“Told the world about us!”

He moved to her side and wrapped her in a warm, wonderful hug. She’d never get tired of this. “Congrats, Butterfly. You’ve been trying to come out for over a year.”

“They didn’t make it easy,” she muttered.

***

To her vast annoyance, the announcement failed to make a dent in the internet whatsoever. Nobody freakin’ cared. Her meticulously written press release ended up with clickbait article titles like “Good News, Magic Is Real,” and everyone in the freaking world ignored the existence of witches in favor of continents on fire, towns being wiped out by freak tornadoes, and diseases running rampant while the economy ate up the rest of humanity’s focus.

“Huh,” she said a week later after scanning the web for reactions.

Trev bit his lip, obviously trying not to laugh. “You lost to climate change.”

“Shut up, it’s not funny.”

He made eye contact. “It’s a little funny. Y’all lived with such care and secrecy and—”

“Fine, fine. I should have seen this coming.”