“That was lame,” she ponders, wrapping her arms around the bowl. Why the hell is she hugging the punch? “But he climbs rocks with his bare hands.”
“Yeah? And I can make you come a dozen times in one night. Who is more impressive?”
Her cheeks redden and her lips part, all breathy. “You.” And then she concentrates on the punch, and I realize she’s trying to lift the giant bowl in her thin arms.
“Lily Hale.” I give her a look.
“It’s a temperamental bowl.”
“Use one of your spells to move it, little puffy,” I tease.
She crinkles her nose again. “I can’t.”
“Lost your wand?”
Her eyes flit to my lips. And a smile pulls my face. She’s turned on by wizard jokes. God, I fucking love her. I step near to help her, but she raises her hand.
“Stay back.”
“That’s not a spell.”
“You’re too attractive right now.” She crosses her ankles and then glances at the oven clock.
I already hear people arriving in the backyard, so it’s not like we can have a quickie in the closet. And it’s not like she’s ever yearning for a two second fuck anyway.
“Mess up your hair,” she orders.
I rake my fingers through my longer strands of hair on the top.
Her eyes comically pop out of her head. “Dontdothat,” she slurs, her breathing heavy in need.
“How about,” I say, prying the punch bowl from her, “we go outside with Moffy.”
She nods repeatedly like I just read the Declaration of Independence.
“You first,” I tell her. She picks up our three-and-a-half-month-old son, perching him on her side, and leads the way.
The sliding glass door is open, people walking in and out. The backyard is full of kids in Halloween outfits, parents, and festive decorations. Apples even float in the pool, the water orange from the colored light. The neighborhood party is an olive branch. A start to a safe and normal life here.
I place the punch bowl on the long table of assorted Halloween treats, and I take a cookie for Lily and a couple Fizz Lifes. She sits on a hay bale with Moffy, a perfect people-watching seat.
Before I reach Lil, her older sister cuts me off, glowering at me. “You couldn’t have chosen a more appropriate costume,” I tell Rose, popping the tab of my drink.
“Do you even know what I am?” she retorts, her hands haughtily placed on her hips. I scan her costume: a black tutu, black paint over her eyes, and her hair in a bun.
“A devil. Oh wait, that’s not your costume. That’s just you.” Clearly, she’s dressed as the Black Swan, pulling off a Natalie Portman look.
“If I was a devil, my trident would be halfway up your ass by now.” She pokes my chest with her finger. “I gave you my sketches last week and they’re still unopened.”
“Calloway Couture Babies will survive if I take a couple extra days to look through them,” I remind her. “And really, you don’t need my approval.”
“Yes I do,” she retorts. “We’re business partners.”
I laugh. “That’s the scariest thing I’ve heard all day.”
Her lips twitch in a smile. “Just look at them.”
I nod. “I will.”
She flips her hair with her hand and her yellow-green eyes land on her husband, who’s chatting with the neighbors. He wears a fake smile, even with the vampire teeth. And he cradles his daughter in his arms, who’s dressed in a white tutu and headband.
Before she can march over to him, Connor notices her approaching and breaks away from his conversation with the neighbors. Rose narrows her eyes at the fake teeth in his mouth. “Those probably make you slur and yet you’re still schmoozing.”
“It’s what I’m good at,” Connor says, clearly. Her eyes turn to fire and he only grins wider. Jesus. “Assumptions are what you aren’t good at, darling”
“I’m better at them than you, and that’s all that matters.” She holds out her hands for Jane. “Come here, little gremlin. We’re matching. You don’t need to be in the hands of an egotistical vampire.”
Connor beams and when they stare at each other it’s like two dominant personalities equalizing out. Impossible. But somehow right. I shake my head and leave their sides just as they turn their conversation to French.
I finally make it back to Lily, sliding next to her. I hand her the cookie and then lift Moffy in my arms.
“Have you seen Daisy?” Ryke suddenly asks us, coming over with a plate of chips and spinach dip. “I can’t fucking find her.”