“I know,” Lilly said with a sigh. “But I have to stay at human size for the next two weeks.” She shook her head. “I just want to punch Cupid in the face.” This was his fault. All of it.
What in the world was he thinking, starting that whole thing with Andres?
“I don’t blame you there,” Ava replied. “What was all that about, anyway?”
“I haven’t the foggiest. Cupid was, gah, flirting with me, and then Andres went ballistic.”
“Flirting?” Ava raised her eyebrow.
“Not like that. It was… Like he was, I don’t know. Trying to make Andres mad?” And a tiny part of Lilly adored Andres defending her.
Okay more than a tiny part, but still.
“Well, he succeeded.”
A burst of blue glitter marked Christy’s appearance. “Lilly, you are not going to believe this!”
“What?” she asked as she sat up. Wincing from the pain, she lay back down.
“Your charge just proposed to Greta!”
“What? Is he out of his blooming mind?” Pain shot through Lilly’s head. So this is what a migraine feels like… “I’m going to kill him. I’m going down there, and I’m going to kill me a stupid boy. Save the word from yet another—”
“No, no, no,” Christy said. “I think she’s going to say yes.”
Lilly shook her head. Which didn’t help the brain pain. She put her hands on her eyes. “What? I—did the world go mad?”
“She wanted to think about it, but I was listening. She isn’t against it! She’s confused, but her aura’s all lit up. I think she’s going to say yes.”
“I’m…”
“You should be proud. You brought them together against the odds. They were an ‘orange,’ weren’t they?” Cupid said from the doorway.
“Cupid! You have a lot of nerve.” Christy crossed her arms.
He held up his hands, and that was when Lilly realized he carried a bouquet of flowers. In a large plastic vase. “I am merely here to apologize.”
The vase made Lilly smile. “It’s okay, girls. I need to talk to him anyway.”
Christy shook her head. “I’m going to check on your charge. But I’ll be back.”
Ava moved toward Cupid. “Be nice to her.”
“I am always nice.”
Ava snorted as she walked out.
They were alone, and Cupid set the bouquet on the table next to her bed. The soothing aroma teased Lilly’s senses.
“Thank you for the flowers.” She buried her nose in them to savor the scents. “I should break this over your head.”
“Plastic vase won’t break,” he said with a grin.
Lilly leaned back. “What in the stars, Cupid? I mean really. You…”
He grinned again. “It worked, didn’t it?”
“What?”
“Andres is so madly in love with you, Lilly. It couldn’t be any plainer.”
“Oh please,” Lilly said, shaking her head. Have to remember not to do that. She put her hands on her temples. “He just doesn’t like you.” Because Cupid couldn’t actually be right…
So why was Lilly’s heart hammering at the prospect?
Cupid raised his eyebrow. “Lilly, I’m the god of love. I know love when I see it, whether I shoot an arrow in it or not. Even my brother, the god of unreturned love, saw it. The fairy is crazy for you.”
“You’re wrong.” She didn’t believe him, didn’t want to, because that would make all of Andres’s criticism mean so much more.
And she’d brushed it off as meaning nothing for so long, she didn’t want to believe it could be more.
“Actually, no, he isn’t.” Andres came in the doorway, staring at Lilly.
“Wait, what?” Her heart hammered, and she jumped at his voice. Andres, still just as rumpled as he was the last time Lilly saw him, shrugged.
“I do love you. I’ve loved you for at least a century.”
“And that’s my cue,” Cupid said, waving his hand. Soft smoke swirled around him, and the god disappeared.
Tears came to Lilly’s eyes as she stared at him, unable to fathom… “Andres, why didn’t you say anything?”
“I… I kept meaning to,” Andres said. “I spend more time with you than I do any other fairy in the Realm.”
“You drive me crazy.” She smiled at him, her heart hammering.
“I also know you will get the job done, better than anyone else in the Realm. You may sneeze magic, but you make it work.” He handed her another floral bouquet. These, however, were all lilies, in a wide assortment of colors, wrapped in golden paper.
She smelled them. “If you’re buttering me up for something, Andres…”
He sat on the edge of the bed. “Listen, I push you, because you are one of the best fairies we have. The thought of losing you to the mortal world because you retired early…” He put his hand on his heart. “I can’t stand it. I don’t want you to go. If there was any way—”
“You want me to stay?” Lilly asked, squeezing the flower stems.
“Very much so. I don’t know how. You committed to retiring. It’s already been recorded in the log. And we cannot change that. You’ll have to leave.”
“Actually, maybe not.” Lilly said. And a whole different idea of her future spread out before her. One that would allow her to stay in the Realm after all. And stay with Andres by her side. “Cupid wants me to work with his minions. Train them better.”
Andres shook his head. “I don’t think it’s ever been done.”
“Probably why his minions are so unruly.”
Andres raised his eyebrow. “I know you can do it. If anyone can, you can.” He put his hand on her arm, and leaned down to hug her.
“Uh no,” Lilly said, and she turned her head. Their noses brushed. “I think we’ve gone beyond a friendly hug.”
A smile spread over his features. He leaned in closer, and their lips brushed together. Soft for a second, then Lilly pulled him closer, and it got a lot deeper. Lilly’s toes curled, and she let out a moan just as he released her.
“I… Wo—Aaachooo!” Andres sneezed.
Little sparkles of silver glitter flew all over the room.
Lilly grinned.
Yep. This was going to work.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Thursday Night
“Listen, I need to go,” Greta said to Bruce on Skype.
“Okay fine. It’s not that late, you know.” Bruce waggled his eyebrows. “If I took off my shirt, would you stay?”
Greta rolled her eyes. “You’re a goof.”
He reached for the button on his shirt. “No, I’m sexy.” He started pulling off his shirt.
She wanted to avert her eyes, she did, but even a glimpse through Skype was a pretty sight. She shook her head. “Seriously, I have to get some writing done.” That’s not to say I’m not inspired…
“Oh, whatcha working on?” Bruce asked, mini-striptease stopped cold.
“Holly’s story.”
He grinned. “Cool. What’s the premise?”
“Boy meets girl. Boy loses girl. Boy gets girl back.”
“Hardy har har,” Bruce said. “Seriously, what are you doing?”
“Seriously, I’m not sure. I haven’t figured it out yet.”
“Oh, you’re one of those writers, huh?”
“It’ll come. It always does. But really, I have to get to work.”
“Okay fine.” He started buttoning his shirt again. “Got an answer for me yet?”
“No.”
He sighed. And tried one of his Flynn “smolder” looks.
Still failed.
Greta laughed. “I have to go. Seriously. I need to get my word count in for the day. And I plan on sleeping sometime tonight.”
They said t
heir final goodbyes, and she logged out of Skype.
“Okay, where was I?” Greta said, still smiling from the conversation as she tried to reread what she’d written so far. Which wasn’t much.
Still confused about Bruce… On one hand, she wanted to punch him. On the other, not being around him depressed her. Whether in person or via the digital world, she wanted to be with him, but wasn’t sure she actually wanted to marry him. At least not right away.
Hell, she still lived in her mother’s basement. She needed to get out, find her own place. She pulled up her online banking accounts and checked her savings. She had enough in there to put a decent deposit on an apartment. Whether she could afford furniture—that was another story.
She logged out and pulled up her story again. “Focus,” she said to herself. “Bad guys are running amuck, and Holly’s a security officer on Barney’s airship. Where would she find her man?”
“Might be interesting if he was a bad guy,” her mother said, behind her.
Greta spun around. Her mother folded up the lap blanket Greta kept on the couch, and placed it neatly on the back.
“Mom! What are you doing?”
She turned and let out a sigh. “Got something you want to tell me?”
“No.”
Her mother raised her eyebrow. “Greta?”
“How much did you hear?”
“Enough,” her mother said. She took a seat at the tiny dinette set. “So how many books have you written, Greta?”
Greta’s shoulders slumped. “Like nine. Nine romance novels.”
Her mother nodded. “And you never said anything, why?”
“Because everything you have upstairs is Christian, and I knew if you knew I wrote romance novels with sex in them, you would have a fit.”
Her mother shook her head. “Why would you think I’d be anything but proud? It takes a lot of work to write a book. I tried once. It’s hard. And you’ve written nine? That’s amazing. I would never be ashamed of what you do. Ever.”
Greta stared at her mother, unable to fathom what she said. She was proud? Not offended? Not disgusted?
“I… Wait, you don’t care?”
“Of course I care. I’m your mother. But I’m not mad. I never would be.”
“What about Dad? Wouldn’t he get mad?”
“You’ve been through so much in your life, and here you are, writing books? You must be doing well, having written nine. They must like you.”
Greta shrugged. “Kinda. I’m no bestseller, but they don’t do bad. I have a great publisher.”
“So where are these books?” she asked.
Greta walked into the bedroom, fetching copies of all the books she had in stock, and laid them on the dinette.
Her mom looked at each one. “Nice covers. I like this one, with all the little swirlies on it.”
Greta smiled. “That’s one of my favorites too.”
She motioned for the computer. “He knows?”
Greta nodded. “He was a fan before he knew I was the writer. He actually did most of the cover art. He’s a photographer.”
She nodded, neatly stacking the books. “So what does he want an answer to?”
“You were listening.”
Her mother shrugged.
“He wants me to marry him.”
“And you said no, why?”
“I said I’d think about it.”
Her mother put her hand on the books. “You know, if a man knows all your secrets, and still loves you, then that’s a man worth keeping in your life.”
“I don’t want to hurt him.”
“Then don’t.”
“So I should tell him no?”
“Why? If you want to marry him, marry him. If you’re not sure, move in with him.”
“Mom?”
She shrugged. “I’m not a complete fuddy-duddy. Your dad doesn’t like the notion of ‘playing house,’ but I just want to see you happy. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you, Greta. And if you do decide to move in with him, I’ll take care of your father.”
“That had an ominous sound to it.”
Her mother raised her eyebrow. “Wife’s prerogative. Just whatever you decide, wear a condom.”
Greta’s face turned bright pink as her mother took the stack of books and headed upstairs.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Friday
“You know, on general principle, I should just turn you into a toad or something,” Lilly said, shaking her head at Bruce.
“Why?” he asked. “I’ve been very well behaved the last, oh, five minutes.” He continued working on his computer, not looking at his Fairy Godmother. “You look okay, by the way.”
“It’s been a rough few days, but yeah, I’m okay.” She shrugged. “Thanks for saying that. Still doesn’t mean I won’t turn you into a frog.”
Bruce laughed. “Ribbit, ribbit.” Either he was horridly traumatized from the death of his dog, or he really had a Fairy Godmother. He’d tried for about a day to rationalize that one out. Because he’d stopped believing in magic when he was, what seven?
“So, tell me,” he said as he adjusted a layer for a cover. “Is Santa Claus real? The Easter Bunny? The Tooth Fairy?”
“No, no, and yes, there are Tooth Fairies.”
He turned. “Really?”
“Sure,” Lilly said, leaning onto the worktable. “Christy’s married to one. He’s a great guy, loves her to distraction.”
He nodded. Guess I should have expected that… One of her friends who popped in on him all week for Lilly was the blue one, Christy. This was actually the first time he’d seen Lilly since the bar fight. Her wings were folded tight, one of them bandaged, but otherwise, she seemed fine.
Lilly smacked him in the arm.
Yep, she was fine. He rubbed his arm. “What?”
“You proposed? What is the matter with you?” She smacked him again.
“Hey, watch it!” Bruce almost fell off his work stool.
“Well, you’re an idiot.”
“She’s still talking to me. It can’t be that bad.”
“Have you seen her?”
“Well, no, but—” Bruce reached for the little box sitting on his worktable. He’d gone out after he proposed and bought a ring. It was pretty, he thought. He hoped that Greta liked it.
He opened the box and showed it to Lilly.
“No ‘buts’—oh wow.” She took the ring box, tilting it back and forth in the light. “That’s beautiful.”
“Hope she likes it,” Bruce said.
Lilly snapped the lid shut. “You’re serious about this.”
Bruce nodded.
“And you are sure she’ll say yes?”
He shrugged. “Some of your fairy magic might improve the situation.”
Lilly shook her head. “I can’t do that. We can’t bend free will. That’s the rule. I can suggest and encourage, but you have to make that choice. Or rather, Greta has to make that choice. You’ve put the ball firmly in her field. She has to make the call now.”
Bruce raised his eyebrow. Because she was right—it was now up to Greta. He’d done everything he could.
And he was serious about this. He’d never been more serious about anything in his life. He wanted Greta with him.
She said she’d be here at seven.
It was officially seven-ten.
Shit, that can’t be good.
Lilly took a step forward. “Is she late?”
“Traffic, probably.” He turned back to the cover art he was working on. “Traffic can be a pain this time of night on a Friday.” He tried to rationalize the growing anticipation. Not that he could focus on the layers on the screen. What was he doing again?
Oh yeah. Trying to figure out how to put a goat on a romance cove
r without making it look stupid.
So far, not working well.
He saved the file. He could work on it later.
“Yeah, traffic,” Lilly echoed, waving her arm around.
After what seemed like an incredibly long silence between them, Bruce glanced at his watch, and noticed that the hands were missing.
“Cute,” he muttered.
“Yeah, well, I do what I can,” Lilly said.
The buzzer went off, and Bruce jerked, and darted to the door. “Yeah?”
“Hey, it’s me.” Greta’s voice was static through the call button.
He hit the lock. “Come on up.” He faced Lilly. “You’d better, uh, do your, whatever it is you do. I don’t want there to be any problems when she shows up.”
Lilly nodded. “You got it.” And in a puff of golden dust, she disappeared.
He looked at the ceiling. “Don’t spy.”
He swore he heard a soft giggle just as a knock hit his door.
Bruce opened the door.
Greta stood there, with a bundle in her arms. A bundle that whimpered.
His heart caught in his throat. Her hair was rumpled, and a minute look of panic covered her face as she struggled with the bundle.
But it was what she carried that had him staring.
A tiny little puppy face poked out of the blanket in her arm. Probably the cutest little black lab he’d ever seen.
“Hi,” he said.
Greta held out the little squirming bundle. “I… I have something for you.”
Bruce took the little guy out of her arms. “Well, hello there,” he said, smiling. A tear crept out of the corner of his eye. Both pain and pride welled in him, a war of emotions swirled against one another. Pain over the loss of Steve hit squarely, and pride that Greta had fought her fears and brought him a new puppy.
She relaxed as he took the dog. “Be warned, he’s a licker.”
Bruce grinned. “Hi there, little guy. You sure are cute,” he nuzzled the pup. The puppy curled into him, shaking.
“He’s great, Greta,” Bruce said. “Yes you are, little guy.”
She sighed, taking off her jacket and tossing it on the kitchen table, along with her purse. “I have all his papers and stuff.”
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