Libby clapped along with the rest of the crowd, absorbing the euphoric vibes.
Blame it on the moon. Blame it on the vortex. Blame it on the fierce blue-violet energy bouncing between herself and Raz. But whatever the trigger, a true cosmic reckoning had taken place.
But it wasn’t over.
A quick flash of black from above caught her eye. She looked up as a crow sailed above the ring, gliding on the night breeze…and splat.
Derrick Dawson stared at his bird-crap-covered shoulder as a look of pure, repulsed horror marred his features.
“Karma can be a real bitch sometimes, can’t she?” Libby cooed, then shifted her focus from the bro to the boxer. She stared into Raz’s twinkling eyes, delighting in the rich violet and blue shades shimmering in the air.
“There it is,” the man said, pride shining in his eyes.
“What?” she breathed.
“The fight. It’s hidden beneath the love and the light, and, might I say, with a bit of bloody sexy psycho.”
A wry grin bloomed on her lips. He wasn’t wrong. She’d tapped into a vein of gloriously liberating crazy.
“You’ve got a lion vibe mixed in with your lamb,” he added.
“You’re just now noticing?” she tossed back when Derrick Dawson staggered forward. The man groaned as his friends helped him out of the ring, sliding him under the ropes like a limp noodle. The Tri-Derricks looked ready to bolt, but Raz jumped the ropes and blocked their exit.
“I believe you owe Ms. Lamb an apology,” he said, his voice low and gravelly.
She climbed out of the ring and stood beside her beefcake. Solid and as balanced as she’d ever felt, their energy mingled, yin and yang, creating an impenetrable whole.
“Sorry,” the Derricks lamented in unison like a trio of sullen schoolboys.
“For…” Raz coaxed.
The two Derricks stared at Raz and swallowed hard, sweat glistening on their brows, while Derrick Dawson moaned, holding his oysters.
“Let me help,” Raz began, taking a step toward the men. “You’re sorry for mistreating women and acting like a bag of dicks.”
Libby raised an eyebrow.
Not bad.
Concise and to the point.
“Now say it,” Raz demanded.
“We’re sorry for mistreating women and acting like a bag of dicks,” the two Derricks, who could breathe, parroted as Derrick Dawson nodded.
“Can we go?” Derrick Dawson eked out, staring at the poop on his shoulder.
“All we need is a credit card for the two bonus donations,” Maud chimed.
“Toodel-oo, thanks to the jackasses for supporting the jackasses,” Raz sang out, waving as the Tri-Derricks followed Maud to one of the tents.
Libby eyed her boxer. “Toodel-oo?”
“I’m British,” he offered with a cheeky shrug. “I can throw a toodel-oo out, here and there. It balances out the bag of dicks part.”
She chuckled as the rush of the moment ebbed, and her hammering heart slowed. “I don’t know what to say besides thank you.”
He waved her off. But he still looked awfully full of himself. “I’m two for two.”
“What does that mean?”
He held her gaze, and his perceptive gray eyes swallowed her whole. “I beat Zen Dougie in our practice race. And then I found myself uniquely positioned to help my spiritual coach exact some duly deserved vengeance. The universe seems to be telling us something, plum.”
She could feel it, too. And the question she’d been grappling with danced in her mind.
Could she believe in it?
“And what do you think the universe wants us to know?” she asked, her words airy like flower petals carried on the breeze.
They stared at each other, and she tried to read him as his words echoed in her heart.
Your fights are my fights.
She shouldn’t want that to be true.
“Mibby, Dad,” Sebastian moaned, popping their angsty, universe-induced bubble. The boy’s jovial demeanor had disappeared, and he rubbed his belly.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, taking a knee in front of the child alongside Raz.
“It’s a hot dog situation,” Penny said as she and Char wove through the crowd.
Rowen arrived with Phoebe in his arms, and Mitch came up with Oscar in his.
“What happened, Sebastian?” Raz asked.
“Americans really like to eat a lot of hot dogs, and I couldn’t resist either,” the boy moaned.
“How many hot dogs did you eat, son?”
“Seven, because I’m almost seven,” the boy answered, followed by a meaty belch.
“Come on, you,” Raz said, lifting Sebastian into his arms.
“It’s all fun and games until the hot dog situation goes awry,” Penny remarked and rubbed Phoebe’s back.
“We know that better than most,” Rowen added.
“Yep, it’s time to call it a night,” Charlotte said, slipping Oscar’s camera strap from his neck.
“I have something for you, Libby,” Oscar mumbled wearily through a yawn, holding out a Polaroid. “I got a shot of you kicking that guy in the balls.”
“Thank you, honey,” she said, staring at the photo. He’d caught the moment the top of her heel grazed Derrick’s naughty bits. With bulging eyes and a look akin to Edvard Munch’s painting, The Scream, the man’s expression was pure comedy gold.
Char peered at the picture. “Yep, that sure captures the evening for me.”
“Never let me eat hot dogs again,” Phoebe lamented, the back of her hand pressed to her forehead like a soap opera actress.
“We should head home, too, Libby,” Raz added, pressing his hand to her lower back.
The contact sent a different kind of vibration through her—a natural comfort that bound them together. They were three people, ready to turn in for the evening, but the everyday simplicity of his words and the ease of his touch cracked open the door to the hopeful part of her spirit she’d kept hidden away.
This must be what it’s like to click into a life so seamlessly.
“Do you guys want us to give you a lift?” Mitch asked.
Raz waved him off. “No need. There’s a trail that leads straight to the back of our Victorian, and a little air will do Sebastian good. Not to mention, we have the donkeys with us.”
“What about my bike, Dad? I think I’ll puke if I try to ride it,” Sebastian added through a whimper.
“It’ll be here in the morning. Nobody will nick it in Rickety Rock. These aren’t the mean streets of London,” he teased as the boy rested his head on his father’s shoulder.
“Oh, I almost forgot. Here’s your phone, Libbs,” Penny said, passing it over. “A couple of emails came in from a C.L. Investments while you were doing your demo. Is that a new business prospect?”
Libby replied with a skeptical huff. “It’s probably more fake venture capitalist bros. Thanks for holding onto my cell, Penn.”
“We’ll see you in a week for the Ass-in-Nine,” Charlotte called as she headed out with Mitch and Oscar.
“Nice job tonight, Libby. Good to see you, Raz,” Penny added before joining her crew and disappearing down the block.
“We can’t forget Plum and Beefcake,” Sebastian mumbled, his sleepy words slurring together.