by Amy Star
“Makes sense,” she agreed. “I take it you gave Evey that idea?”
Something in Maria’s expression clouded, like thunder clouds rolling over the sun, but her smile stayed in place and she nodded once. “Of course,” she replied. “It’s always best to make things as easy as possible for whoever’s coming next. Otherwise it would just be impolite and inconvenient.”
“Very conscientious,” Ainslie praised, her tone polite. “Did you want something for breakfast?” she asked, gesturing around at the fact that they were, indeed, in the kitchen.
Maria sighed out a slow breath and shook her head. “No, thank you.” Her voice was turning stiffer. “I ate before I got here.” She left it at that, though she didn’t move for a moment, as they instead just stared at each other for a moment that seemed to stretch for an hour. It was Maria who broke her stare first. She continued across the room and out the other side, into the family room.
Ainslie couldn’t even remember what she had been thinking about before that, but she was pretty sure it hadn’t been that important, so she let it drop.
Quietly, she decided that she should do some baking that evening. She needed comfort food, if things were going to be like that until Malik found a replacement for Maria.
Rather than stages of the moon and calendars, from there her thoughts drifted to baked goods and various recipes.
*
There were twelve days left until the next full moon, and Ainslie found herself looking forward to going back to the farm. They hadn’t actually discussed it, but they hadn’t needed to; everyone had simply assumed that she would be going along when the time came, and she saw no reason to say anything about it when that was her plan, too.
Even so, one of the girls asked. Ainslie was in the family room, dusting and humming to herself, just a senseless stream of upbeat notes, when Lily poked her head into the room. “Aaaaiiiiinslie?” she called, drawing the first syllable out because people thought it was endearing when she did that and she was well aware of it. It usually meant she wanted something.
“Liiiiiily,” Ainslie called in reply. “What can I do for you?”
“You’re coming with us to Grannie and Papa’s next time, right?” Lily asked slowly, finally creeping into the room. “Dad seemed to like having you there.”
Ah, right. There was a topic Ainslie still had to broach.
“I’ll be there,” she promised. “But speaking of your dad, there’s something I need to tell you.”
Lily’s eyes narrowed slightly in suspicion.
“Your dad and I like each other,” Ainslie stated bluntly, because she wasn’t going to try to explain how feelings worked to a second-grade student. At the uncomprehending look she got in return—as if Lily was silently saying “yeah, , obviously’’—Ainslie clarified, “We like-like each other.”
“Oh!” Lily replied, realization dawning. “I know that.” She scoffed and rolled her eyes, shaking her head slightly to herself as she turned and left the room. She mumbled a quiet, “Duh,” under her breath as she left.
Ainslie stared after her, blinking slowly. That… had been easier than she had expected it to be. But she supposed she wasn’t surprised that she and Malik couldn’t really be considered subtle. Not that she was going to argue the point; she had no real complaints.
Even so, being called out like that by an eight-year-old child was a bit of a blow to Ainslie’s pride.
*
There were eleven days until the next full moon, and the yard was coated in leaves. Ainslie attempted to rake them up like a responsible human being who was generally in charge of smaller human beings, but those attempts didn’t really pan out.
Paisley jumped in the pile first, because of course she did. She was three years old and had the self-control of a starving wombat. Leaves scattered in every direction, and when Paisley emerged from the pile, she had them stuck in her hair.
Lily was the second one to jump in the pile, dive-bombing into it like she thought it was some sort of Olympic sport. Were that the case, Ainslie definitely would have given her the gold medal.
She thought that would be the end of it after that, but then, unexpectedly, Andy decided she needed to take a leap into the pile, cannonballing into it with great aplomb. Ainslie applauded for her as she emerged from the pile.
After that, surely, that would be the end of it.
And then her feet left the ground as Malik scooped her up from behind. She hadn’t even heard him come outside. She thrashed, squealing, as he tossed her into the pile, and then she tumbled aside as he dove after her.
Looking around at the yard afterwards, she supposed that maybe having a leaf-free yard was overrated, and she stuffed a handful of leaves down the back of Malik’s shirt to watch him try to frantically pull them out as they poked at him.
*
There were ten days left until the next full moon, and it seemed as if time was passing so quickly as if everything was unusually perfect.
Well. Not quite perfect. There was still one person who didn’t know the full scope of what was going on. She wasn’t sure how much Paisley would understand—love and romance in cartoons was a lot different than it was in reality—but that was still no excuse not to tell her.
They were outside as Paisley collected leaves, saying something about wanting them for a decoration. They would dry out and crumble up soon enough, but Ainslie knew that Paisley’s attention span could be short enough that if she replaced them with fabric leaves, Paisley would never notice.
As Paisley searched for a leaf that was just the right shade of gold, Ainslie said, “So, you know the princesses and the princes in all those movies, how they kiss at the end?”
“Uh huh,” Paisley replied, straightening up as she evidently found her perfectly gilded leaf.
“Your dad and I want to be like that,” Ainslie informed her.
Slowly, Paisley blinked at her. And then she grinned and shrugged and said, “Okay.”
Ainslie couldn’t even say she was surprised by the easy acceptance, considering she wasn’t sure how much of her mother Paisley actually remembered.
Even so, it was comforting to know that none of the girls were against it. If she was going to be part of Malik’s life then she was going to be part of theirs as well, and what they thought of her could very well be even more important than what Malik thought of her.
*
There were nine days until the next full moon, and when Malik got home, he didn’t immediately head straight for his den. It was odd, but not quite as odd as it used to be, and for that Ainslie was grateful.
He joined her in the kitchen as Andy studied by explaining her science unit out loud to an audience of Ainslie and Malik. And technically Lily, though she was paying remarkably little attention as she doodled across a few pages of printer paper.
It didn’t take long before Andy finished her impromptu lecture and then stole Lily away to help with a set of flashcards, leaving Malik and Ainslie alone in the kitchen. For a few moments, they simply enjoyed the silence, before Malik got to his feet. Ainslie watched him curiously as he circled around the back of her chair until she couldn’t see him anymore.
His hands landed on her shoulders and she sighed out a slow, contented breath as his fingers began to knead her shoulders.
“It seems like you’ve had a long day,” he observed wryly, thumbs digging into the muscle at the base of her neck. “Why don’t you tell me about it?”
*
There were eight days until the next full moon, and Ainslie and Maria had managed to avoid each other pretty well. They saw each other in passing, but they felt no inclination to talk to each other. They hadn’t before the proverbial shit hit the fan, and they certainly felt no need to by that point.
Even so, it did still happen occasionally.
Ainslie was carrying a basket of laundry up to her bedroom when she practically ran into Maria in the downstairs hallway. They jostled back and forth for a moment before Maria stoo
d well to the side to make space for Ainslie and the hamper, and she bowed Ainslie past with a flourish. It was… not exactly the most respectful gesture Ainslie had seen.
She simply walked past without comment at first, but she paused a few steps passed her. “Stop blaming it on me,” she finally stated, forcing the words out before she could rethink them.
“…Excuse me?” Maria asked, her tone carefully, cordially polite.
“You’re the one who went in my room and touched my stuff,” Ainslie reminded her. “You’re the one who didn’t come clean about it. Paisley figured it out, and then you never mentioned it until I showed up at your house.” She turned to glance over her shoulder. “So, stop blaming all of this on me. You brought it on yourself, and I’m not going to pretend to be a villain because you have no concept of boundaries.”
For a moment, Maria’s mouth gaped open and closed in a manner not entirely unlike a fish. Had she been anywhere else, talking to anyone else, Ainslie would have found it funny. Just then, though, she could only muster up some vague annoyance.
Finally, Maria closed her mouth with an audible click before she regathered her composure and said sweetly, “I’ll try to be more cheerful about the impending loss of my job.”
Ainslie rolled her eyes as Maria turned and stormed down the hall. Ainslie watched her go for a moment before turning back in the direction she had been going and continuing on with her laundry hamper. She still had a job to do, regardless of any run-ins she had with Maria.
*
There was a week to go until the next full moon, and it seemed as if time was passing in a flash, as if one day simply bled seamlessly into the next without any true day or night. Every day and night piled on top of the one before, but Ainslie couldn’t complain. If life passed in a flash, that was better than everything slowing to a crawl.
Besides, it meant that she could appreciate it more whenever everything slowed down for a little while.
Like when she made a pumpkin pie in the middle of the afternoon—a trial run for Thanksgiving, she called it—and she knew it was cool when Malik brought her a slice on a plate and a mug of coffee, awkwardly balancing his own plate and mug with his other arm.
They sat on the couch in the family room, criticizing the judges of a cooking show on the television and appreciating the relative quiet until Lily poked her head into the room and loudly announced that the pie was ready.
Everything was a flurry of activity after that, in excitement at first and then in a sugar rush once the pie was properly doled out.
Even so, the slower moments were nice, and Ainslie appreciated whenever she ran into them. Sometimes it was nice to just sit back and smell the pumpkin pie.
CHAPTER 12
There were six days until the next full moon, and that evening Ainslie realized with some bewilderment that she hadn’t spoken to Carrie in days, other than a few text messages scattered throughout the day. She supposed she had been busy, but it was still a bit of a startling idea.
Ainslie refused to be one of those people who said ‘oh, I’m too busy, I’ll get to it later, or I’ll wait for her to call me’ until it had been months since they had spoken, though. She had made that mistake in high school and lost friends for it, and she certainly wasn’t letting it happen with Carrie.
The phone rang long enough that Ainslie wasn’t sure Carrie would pick up, and when she finally did she sounded out of breath.
“Whew!” Carrie announced, heaving a sigh. Ainslie could hear a door slam in the background. “I was carrying groceries up the stairs.”
“Isn’t that the sort of thing a roommate is supposed to help with?” Ainslie asked blandly.
“Man, she’s tiny,” Carrie replied, and the tone of her voice made it sound as if she was convinced her new roommate was approximately the size of a guinea pig.
Ainslie snorted. “That doesn’t mean you can’t expect her to help with things,” she pointed out. “I don’t think it works that way. Besides, what happened to her being the model roommate?”
“The apartment is so clean now, you have no idea. And there’s, like… actual food on the table every night. I only have to cook like half the time instead of all the time,” Carrie gushed.
“I cooked,” Ainslie protested, though she felt only mildly put out by the teasing.
“You baked,” Carrie corrected. “There’s a difference. Muffins are great but they only count as real food for breakfast, and even then, only sometimes.”
“Picky, picky,” Ainslie sighed. “But it sounds like everything is going alright there.”
“Pretty well, yeah. How’s life with the billionaires going?” Bags rustled in the background, presumably as Carrie started putting away groceries.
“Pretty well,” Ainslie parroted back. “I told the girls that I’m in a relationship with their dad. Well, I told two of them. Andy figured it out on her own.”
“Ooooh,” Carrie crooned, her tone conspiratorial. “Sounds like things are getting serious over there.”
“Maybe,” Ainslie acknowledged.
Carrie fell silent for a moment when Ainslie didn’t immediately deny the accusation. “Good for you,” she finally decided. “You deserve it.”
Ainslie groaned and flopped face down on her bed, turning her face so she could properly speak as she groused, “Don’t go getting all soppy on me. You’re supposed to be the tough one.”
“You aren’t here,” Carrie sighed wistfully. “Until I get more of a bead on the new roommate, I need to be sweet and sour to make up for your absence.”
“Pretty sure that’s not how it works,” Ainslie sighed, shaking her head to herself, “but I wish you luck with that.”
*
There were five days until the next full moon, and most of the leaves in the yard were either on the grass or turning vibrant colors. It was a mild day, and though it wasn’t particularly warm, there was hardly a cloud in the sky that afternoon.
Andy darted across the yard, looping around piles of leaves as Paisley and Lily pursued her, both of them in their animal forms as they chased her. Finally, Lily simply charged straight through one of the piles.
And then there came the sound of hooves on the pavement. In a flash, Andy shoved Lily right back into the leaf pile as she emerged and hastily scooped leaves over top of her, and Ainslie tossed her jacket over Paisley just as she flopped down onto the grass as flatly as she could, so she mostly resembled a lump in the fabric rather than an identifiably canine shape.
The farmer whose paddock was just across the street came riding up the road on one of his horses, and he slowed the gelding to a halt in front of the house. He lifted a hand in a wave and offered a pleasant, “Good afternoon, ladies! Up to anything exciting?”
Ainslie pasted a smile into place. “Just enjoying the weather while it’s still warm enough to do that,” she replied, and Andy nodded stiffly in reply.
The farmer grinned. “Not a bad idea,” he replied, and he gestured down to his saddle. “I’ll let you ladies get back to it.”
With another cheery grin, he urged his horse back into motion. It wasn’t until the clatter of hooves over pavement had faded that Ainslie picked up her jacket and Lily sat up in the pile, leaves still piled on top of her head.
For a moment, everyone was silent, and then Andy suggested blandly, “I think maybe we should head back inside.”
It seemed like the best idea.
*
There were four days until the next full moon, and when night rolled past, Ainslie couldn’t sleep. Every so often, the house just seemed too quiet, as if something was going to charge through the window to get her. She didn’t know why she felt like that, except that maybe it was because she was still so unaccustomed to living in such a rural environment.
She lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling until she heard Malik begin to come up the stairs on his way to bed. Ainslie debated with herself for only a moment before she tossed her blanket aside, swung her legs over the side of the b
ed and got to her feet, and stepped out into the hallway.
“Malik?”
He paused with a jolt, startled, and turned to look over his shoulder at her, his expression curious in the dark hallway.
“Do you mind if I sleep in your room tonight?” she asked quietly. “I’ve been trying to fall asleep, and it’s just not happening.”
For a moment, there was no reaction. And then Malik nodded slowly and held a hand out to her. Quickly, Ainslie closed the distance between them and took his hand, letting him lead the way into his bedroom.
Nothing exciting happened; all they did was sleep. True, Ainslie didn’t turn away as Malik got changed, but neither of them were teenagers anymore; it was going to take more than a brief glimpse of Malik’s shirtless back to get her in the mood, and she doubted anything like that had even occurred to him.