“Hello?” She twirled the spatula, flinging grease. “We’re the best of both worlds. We got most of the fae gwyllgi bennies without the drawbacks, like belonging to Faerie.” Spatula over her heart, she bowed her head. “There’s no bacon in Faerie. Who can live like that?”
“Heathens.” Hadley walked in sucking on a square of chocolate from my secret stash.
Make that a not-so-secret stash since everyone apparently knew where to find my hoard.
Adelaide glanced between us. “Vegans?”
“There’s a difference?” Hadley threw a truffle she just finished unwrapping at Adelaide, who caught it in her mouth. “Wow.” She eyed Adelaide with newfound respect. “I’m impressed.”
As I claimed my usual seat, the front door opened, but I was too beat from the partying to rise again.
“I’ll get it.” Lethe tipped her head back. “Who’s there?”
“I could have done that much.” I nudged her with my foot. “Neely?”
The list of people Woolly would let in without checking with me first was longer than it had ever been, but not so long I had many options left considering everyone loitering in the kitchen.
“Who else would it be?” he called back, making his way to us. “You’re not eating, are you?”
An empty spot in front of me waited for a plate. “No?”
“You’re getting married tonight.” Horror contorted his features. “You can’t eat. You’ll have a food belly in all your pictures.”
“Fine.” All that delicious bacon, wasted. On Lethe. Because bacon was never truly wasted around here. “Hand me my smoothie?”
“Smoothie it is.” He located it in the fridge, where I knew it would be. Linus never forgot, and that was only one of the reasons why I loved him. “I would fuss at you about your hair, but I saw you last night. This wash was a necessary evil.” He waited a minute, staring the whole time. “Well?”
“Well what?” I took a sip. “I’m having breakfast.”
“Uh, no.” He took me by the elbow and pulled me to my feet. “You’re getting your hair done, and then you’re getting your makeup done. Then you’re getting dressed so you can get your half of the pre-wedding photos taken.”
“I thought pictures came after the ceremony,” I whined.
“Group pictures, yes. Bride pictures, no.” He hauled me down the hall, away from all those delicious smells. “Stop making that face. It might get stuck that way, and then where would we be?”
“You guys didn’t explain my wedding day agenda very well.”
“That’s because you would pout, like you are now, and I ain’t got time for that.”
“I bet Linus isn’t stuck in hair and makeup for hours,” I grumbled, mostly because I didn’t have bacon.
“You bet wrong. My sister took off from Haint Misbehavin’ to work her magic on him. Poor girl has had a crush on his hair for years. Tonight, her dreams of running her fingers through it are finally coming true.”
“She’s not going to cut or curl it, is she?”
“You’ll find out soon enough, won’t you?” He shoved me into the salon-style chair mounted in one corner of his office/beauty parlor. “Now, get all this drama out of your system while I work on your hair. If you budge while I do your makeup, I will paint the smile I want to see on your face.”
Neely didn’t kid when it came to cosmetics, so I buttoned my mouth, accepted a smoothie was all I would have before the reception, and mentally recited the cake flavors, fillings, and frostings to tide me over until then.
By the time he finished my hair, my neck hurt, I had to pee, and I could sense a looming presence behind me. Neely had been ignoring them while he worked. Deep in the zone, he might not have noticed they were there.
“Hello?” I tried when Neely caught my chin to force me to keep staring forward. “Who’s there?”
“Your future mother-in-law.”
Lucky for me, there was no mirror to reflect the expression I made at hearing her voice. “Oh, hey.”
“Am I early for my appointment?” She circled around where I could see her. “I have a new assistant. It’s possible he confused the times.”
Neely and I exchanged glances, and it spoke to his ability to read people that he caught the same undercurrent as me. For whatever reason, I was pretty sure the Grande Dame had just lied to us. Then again, maybe it was the closest she could come to asking to be included in the day’s preparations without using her words.
“I thought you would be with Linus,” I said carefully. “It’s tradition.”
“That Mary Alice person is with him, and he seems happy with her.”
Uh-oh. This was not a day for ruffling the Grande Dame’s feathers.
Walking on eggshells, I tried again. “I’m sure he would rather have you there.”
“I’m sure he would,” she agreed easily, “but then who would be here?”
More tears threatened, the little jerks, and I had to blink them away or risk Neely beating me to death with a mascara wand.
Linus had warned me she worried Boaz might attempt to sweep me off my feet at the last minute. Likely that’s what prompted this grand gesture. But for one night and one night only, I let myself pretend her only motive in being here was to stand in for the mothers I had lost. “Thank you.”
“Thank my assistant,” she huffed. “I’ll fire him as soon as I get back to the Lyceum.”
Before the quiet stretched into awkward territory, the others flooded in and began chattering. The Grande Dame’s relief mirrored my own. We could talk policy, and we did okay with our mutual love and admiration of Linus, even if she wanted far more credit for him than she deserved, but everything else felt like walking on a path made of saggy trampoline tarp.
In an act of mercy, Tisdale swept the Grande Dame aside, and I overheard them talking grandchildren and lines of succession. I hoped the alpha was ballparking and not actually suggesting I birth no less than four children. She herself only had two, thanks to health issues limiting her reproductive abilities, which explained why she held on to Lethe and Midas so tightly. The Grande Dame commiserated in full, as she had only one child.
After that, I had to tune them out or risk an aneurism. It’s not like they could implant me with embryos in my sleep. Right? Right?
“Are you having a panic attack?” Neely crouched at my eye level. “I packed Xanax.”
“Just questioning the sanctity of my womb.”
He blinked once, slowly, then glanced toward the Grande Dame with dawning understanding.
“You’re an heiress, and Linus is an heir. Your families are both big deals. I can see why everyone is so eager to pop a bun in your oven.” He scowled when I sank lower in my seat. “The fact remains, it’s your oven. You don’t have to let any buns in there until you’re ready to bake them.” He rolled his eyes. “Mom is pressuring us to have kids. I keep telling her we’re not ready, and when we are, we’ll have to adopt, but lawd. That woman.”
“I bet there’s a sigil that could allow you to carry a baby,” I teased. “You’d be like a daddy seahorse.”