Lachlan adds, “Yeah—especially if you get to be the center of attention.”
“He’s already always the center of attention,” Xeran says, but he’s smiling, too.
“Great, yes, thank you,” I mutter, rolling my eyes. “Remind me why I spend time with you guys?”
“There was a fire,” Lachlan says, gesturing over his shoulder, and though it’s meant to be a joke, it makes the mood plummet again. A reminder that if there’s one daemon fire, there will definitely be more.
At least all this training and hiring new recruits is for a good reason.
“Hurry your asses up,” Xeran says, cutting through the sinking atmosphere and gesturing for us to pick up the pace as we near Engine One. “I need to get home to Phina.”
“Yeah,” Lachlan says, his strides lengthening as he matches his pace to Xeran’s. “I’ve got a baby at home.”
And I find I’m the third one in line, already thinking about Maeve, who’s probably awake now—the sun is just coming over the horizon—and worrying about me.
I need to get home to her, tell her about what’s going on. Make sure she’s not panicking at the fact that I haven’t come home yet. I can tell her about how mild this fire was—almost like it was struggling to maintain its energy—and together, she and I can hope that it wasactuallythe last daemon fire of its kind around here.
And, as I stare at Lachlan’s and Xeran’s backs as we finally near the fire truck, realizing that I’m feeling exactly what they are, it dawns on me.
All this wanting, all this care and consideration. Thinking of her all day long, wanting to get back home to her as soon as I can.
I am in love with Maeve Villareal.
Chapter 23 - Maeve
The fourth and final wedding Felix and I need to attend together is held at a ski resort in the mountains. Luckily for the bride and groom, the most recent bout of daemon fire was nowhere near it, leaving the skyline unblemished.
Felix told me about that fire. Smaller than the others, but still troubling, because it meant they could continue on. That the fire troop would be waiting, biding their time to see if another daemon fire might come through.
And he told me about what Lachlan said. The strange form he saw once, dancing among the flames.
I stand in the reception hall, nursing the last few drops of my drink and thinking about the fire. About Felix and the charred, smoky smell in his hair when he came back from fighting it, something so familiar I could practically taste it on the tip of my tongue.
The resort is situated at the top of a little valley, with trees rolling along the hills. On the other side is a red freight train, snaking up to the top of the mountain, appearing briefly between the trees as it chugs steadily along. When Felix and I were driving up, I leaned out the window, looking over the guardrail at the steep decline, talking about the people who come to the mountain and grip the doors of their cars, terrified to look out the window.
It’s the perfect day for a wedding, the sky a bright blue and rolling with puffy, thick clouds that track through each scene like extras in a movie, playing their part and moving along quickly.
When I woke up this morning, wrapped in his arms, the first thing I thought about was the clothing samples. Theprogress I’ve been able to make. The orders on the machines and the fabric. I’d have to hurry home to Los Angeles if I wanted to have time to finish everything with the quality I wanted.
And the second thing I thought about—a thought coming right on the first’s heels—was how much I was going to miss Felix when it was time for me to leave.
I’d miss waking up next to him every morning, hearing him hum in the shower. Feeling his hands tighten around my hips, always reaching for me, always tugging me to his side. Miss the heavy pause before he’d suggest we go and get a snack.
At first, I thought it was all a deliberate show, part of the effort to convince everyone of our mating. But over the past two months, I’ve realized that it’s just how he is. Tactile. Like he can’t believe something really exists unless he has that thing under his thumb.
The reception hall around me is massive and gorgeous. The walls are lined with floor-to-ceiling windows, giving a beautiful view of the mountains around us and letting in plenty of natural light. Due to the dress code, we’re all in black and white, which lends a more serious tone to the otherwise casual-looking dresses around me.
“It’snottuxedo dress code,” Felix had said, showing me the embossed invitation. “They want more casual dress, but just in black and white. I don’t really get it, but if it means I don’t have to wear a suit, I’m down.”
Now, I’m standing in a black dress—because no way in hell was I wearing white, even if the invitation said it was okay—with my clutch held between my hands, tapping my feet while I wait for Felix to come back to me.
“You must be Maeve.”
I startle, turning to face the woman standing in front of me. She’s thin, with sharp cheekbones and dark, glossy hair that falls perfectly straight to her shoulders. Her makeup is understated, simple, and she wears the tiniest little white dress I’ve ever seen in my life, the exterior perfectly smooth and almost shiny, like it might be made out of leather.
Compared to the sparkly, ruffled thing I have on, her dress screams minimalism.
It’s like looking into a mirror and seeing the opposite of me staring right back. Like someone flipped a switch on all my major components and created my very own anti-Christ.
