I snort and toss my head. He wouldn’t.
Would he?
He looks to each of us. “Any ideas?”
Morgan passes her palm over her curls, looking thoughtful. “A new axe-throwing bar opened up a few towns over.” Her red-painted lips spread into a grin. “I hear they’ve got daggers, too.”
Noah presses forward on his elbows. “We could have arealadventure. We could go camping. S’mores, beer, trails, campfire songs—we’ll be just like our characters, out on one last journey together.” Noah beams expectantly.
Everyone is horrified.
“Camping? Inthisheat?”
“Noah, it’s the middle of July. What the fuck,no—”
“Do you mean, like, actual tents? We’d be sleeping on the ground?”
“My sweet summer child, is this your first year in Texas?”
Everyone speaks up at once, and pressing the back of my hand to my mouth isn’t enough to cover my laughter. Always good-natured, Noah grins and holds up his hands in surrender. “Fine, fine—not our cup of tea. That’s okay.” Under the table, I squeeze his thigh consolingly.
Jules smiles kindly at Noah, a little patronizing but still sweet. “I do like the idea of connecting with our characters one last time, though,” she offers. “What about the Renaissance Faire?”
Liam strokes his beard. “I’ve always meant to go.”
Morgan hums. “I could be down for that. Bet they’ll have axe-throwing there, too.”
Noah nods with interest.
I’m the only one who has to ask. “What’s a Renaissance Faire?”
Jules brightens, her cheeks rosy. “It’s a medieval fantasy festival,of a sort. Originally it was meant to celebrate Renaissance culture, but most people just like to dress up as knights, wenches, fairies, elves, and other fantasy-inspired creatures. They’ve got jousting, turkey legs, music…” She trails off, a little sheepish. “Me and my husband go every year with the kids. It’s our favorite.”
“Do we have to dress up?” I ask.
Jules smiles. “It’s more fun when you do.”
“We could dress as our characters,” Noah suggests.
Morgan pets at her imaginary beard as Jules reaches up to adjust her headband, probably already imagining how she might fashion horns from it.
“I like it,” Liam announces. “Though I’ll have to figure out which character to be.”
“You would make a very convincing Donati,” Jules says.
“Or Shira,” Morgan teases.
Noah’s eyes go wide. “It’s got to be Alastair. Alastair or bust.”
I’m losing my mind over the thought of painting Liam green when Jules smacks her palm against her forehead. “I’m so sorry, y’all, I forgot—the season doesn’t start until the fall. It won’t be open for a few more months.” She casts a doe-eyed, apologetic look specifically toward me.
Disappointment settles around the table, and I add the Faire to the list of things I’ll miss.
Noah jumps in with a forced optimism. “We’ll keep brainstorming. We’ll figure something out, yeah?”
Liam nods. “Just another cliff-hanger to resolve next time, folks.”
Chapter
