We’ve survived another storm. I sit at the kitchen table and stare at the carnations my wife brought home for me last weekend. There’s sunshine leaking onto the floor by the fridge, a reminder that the end of winter is quickly approaching.
Work comes and goes. I fold laundry. Life happens in a blur around me.
March is a fickle mistress. There’s frost on the grass in the morning. Leaves have started to sprout from every tree down the street. There’s a fresh energy to the air. In the same breath, I feel I can do everything I’ve ever imagined and that I’ll never do anything more than manage the monotony of my average day.
It’s a lot to handle at any given moment.
There have been some successes this week. I wrote the next full episode of Lore, making this episodic series an amazing 30 episodes long. My editor gave it her full approval and I’ve hit publish on vella just before starting this blog. It should be processed and ready to read by Friday morning 🙂
Henri just got started today. We’re moving slowly through this next space, but I’m sure it’ll be a fun ride once we pick up momentum.
I picked out my next dialogue prompt. I’ll be doing a werewolf and a vampire trying to come to an agreement. I’ve already gone off the rails creating stories for these two characters and, if I’m up to it, might do the same story from each of their separate perspectives. Maybe! We’ll see :p
It’s Wednesday, readers! We’ve made it halfway through another week. I have one more full day of flipping burgers and cooking chicken while running around a hot kitchen before my days off for chores and family errands and some more writing.
We can do this 🙂
Take an extra minute this week to enjoy that morning cup of coffee. Make a new dish for dinner just because. Put a movie on in the living room and try to master a new craft, but inevitably fall asleep with yarn in your lap and drool on your chin.
There’s still time to get things done. There’s still time to take a moment for yourself and rest and relax. Do what is best for yourself these next few days.
Pulling my hood further over my head, I hiss my reply to Tiffany. “I fell in love with him the first time he spoke.”
Seated next to me on the church roof, she goes back to picking her fingernails with one of the twenty knives stashed on her body. “Yeah. When you thought he was a poet. You can’t be in love with the prince who just signed our death warrants.”
She’s not wrong. I’ve already gone and over thought this a hundred times since he was escorted out of the pub last night by the royal guard. My plan had been to break him out of jail. I was quite surprised to find that he knew them personally and merely got a slap on the wrist for being out past curfew. There are others who didn’t make it out of the pub with their lives.
King Richmond decreed the curfew two months ago to keep ruffians from organizing within the city limits. Ruffians. The word always makes me snort. He seems to think that wearing a gold crown can stop the rest of us from doing what it takes to make a simple living or have a drink to take the edge off of the endless monotony of working until we die.
From our position behind two stone gargoyles, I can just barely make out the prince’s blond hair. It looked silky in the dim glow of the stage candles last night. Today, he barely looks at the crowd formed at his feet. His voice trembles as he reads the words scrawled onto the scroll in his hands.
His heart isn’t in it. Not in the way he proudly enunciated each syllable of his poems last night. He memorized those words. He cared to pause and let the audience drink in the meaning before continuing to the next stanza. Once, his blue eyes caught on me and he stuttered.
He felt it, too.
I just know it.
There’s a thread knotted around my rib that ties me to Prince Castyl Richmond.
“If you don’t shut your mouth, your tongue is going to dry out.”
I snap my jaw closed. Tiffany is a good friend. She’s a better bodyguard. I’m going to have to lose her if I want any chance of getting close to the prince.
“Whatever you’re thinking is stupid. Just drop it,” she growls from her spot, those amber eyes watching me squirm.
I gesture towards her as rudely as possible, my left hand thrown in her direction while my gaze stays pasted onto the prince. From the corner of my eye, I see her stick her tongue at me, the silver ball pierced through it catching the moonlight. Tiffany is a good person. She has her life in order, her moral code intact, and no unjustified love interests. She’s the backbone of her clan and in charge of making sure I don’t get into anything too difficult.
Like a relationship with the son of the man who wants us dead.
Gods. I let my temple rest on the stone gargoyle. I can’t help it. There’s…something about him.
Those cheekbones. The way he rolls his words. That bit of electricity that restarts my heart when he looks in my direction.
Like he is…right now.
Tiffany grabs my arm, tugging me down at she hisses a curse. Bad. Nobody was supposed to see us. There’s a yell from the ground level.
“We have to go now.”
I shrug out of her hold, her sharpened nails sticking to the leather of my jacket. “You have to go.”
Her teeth lengthen as she shakes her head at me. “Non-negotiable, Quinn.”
It’s really difficult being accepted into a group of werewolves. Every argument pretty much spirals into long teeth and longer claws and a lot of saliva. I know she has a job to do. I know my place in their pack as the only mage makes me important. Nobody else can replace the wards and ensure the clan’s safety.
There’s just something that I need to do and I don’t think getting caught by the guards would be a bad thing.
“Let me go, Tiff.”
She’s pulling, her brute strength enough to haul me off my ass. “We’re leaving.”
There’s more yelling from down below. I think they’ve called the archers.
I take a deep breath and pull my ring out of my pocket, the magic stone set into it glowing red as it hums to the power flowing through my veins. “I’m not going to tell you again. You go.”
Somebody demands that we put our hands up. Tiffany is growling. I don’t really have much of a choice, do I?
It’s complicated magic to create a portal. Lucky for me, I had time before the prince’s performance and I already set everything up while Tiffany scouted our spot. It’s basically the first rule of life to come to everything with a back-up plan.
Grabbing Tiffany’s hand, I thrust her towards the circle I created in the dirt. It’s a one stop spell. Unfortunately, she’s aware of how magic works.
The wolf grabs a handkerchief from her pocket and shoves it into my mouth while we wrestle in the circle. “You cannot be serious right now.”
I roll my eyes at her. Oh, I’m serious. Seriously going to meet that prince. It’s my fate. I can feel it in my bones.
Tiffany doesn’t believe in fate or love or basically anything besides what she can do with her own hands. I don’t regret it when I stomp my heel into her foot. There’s a crunch. I wore my heaviest boots on purpose.
Cursing, she lets me go long enough for me to stagger back while I rip the fabric out of my mouth. The magic flares to life, a red light filling in the circle. I yell my spell. Tiffany is there. She’s howling and lunging at me. Then, she’s not.
I’ll be paying for that when I make it home.
If I get to go home.
I walk past the scorch mark left on the roof with my hands over my head. There are indeed several archers pointing very sharp arrows up towards me. The prince is looking up here, too.
I think my heart might explode.
“State your business, vagrant.”
Damn. I forgot how gruff the guards could be. It’s been a whole year since I last took up a cell in a dungeon.
“I just want to talk to you,” I say, clearly and calmly, my gaze never wavering from the prince.
There’s a question on his tongue. I don’t hear it, though. An arrow whizzes through the air. I move too late.
Fire burns through my shoulder as I topple forward. Blood drenches my coat. The gargoyle’s wing slips through my fingertips.
The ground is coming fast. I shut my eyes. I suppose my death will at least linger in the prince’s memory for a moment.
Something stops my fall, though. The wind. A strong gust. I open my eyes.
Magic is very forbidden. It’s bad enough that I have magic in my veins. It’s going to be a much bigger problem that the only person here with their hand outstretched is the prince.
Prince Castyl Richmond just saved my life.
And put his own on the line.
I shut my eyes again as I gently drop to the ground and the guards start to converge.
If we make it through this, we’re going to have the most epic love story.
Author’s Note
Happy Saturday! Thank you for reading this short story. I got the dialogue prompt off of Pinterest and just ran with the idea of a character falling in love with someone based off of the first words they said.
Let me know what you thought in the comments below!
The sun is setting. There’s four different cheeses in a bowl on the kitchen counter. Pop music swells within the walls of our home.
It’s been a long day. It’s been a long week. I’m tempted to already say it’s been a long year.
Since I was last here, I made it to the craft fair on Sunday. It was a terrible experience. We did manage to make one sale amidst the chaos of a disorganized event and less than helpful weather conditions. To the lovely woman who took home one of my spooky book stacks, I hope it finds the perfect spot next to your current TBR pile.
Writing has been a haphazard event. I’m stuffing words into prompts and then trying to disentangle the mess I’ve made. Some days I question whether it’s worth it to leave my job and try to keep doing this writer thing. My wife promises it is. She reads my chaotic collection of sentences and forgives me for breaking every possible grammatical error.
I read over and over and over again that being a writer is a solitary event. You MUST lock the door to your office and stare at a bright little screen until the wee hours of the morning or you’re not doing it correctly.
That’s not it for me. Sitting in my office typically leads to spinning in my chair or doodling on a scrap of paper or staring out the window at the same damn street. So, I sit at the kitchen table and make small talk while my wife stuffs that cheese into large noodles. We discuss my characters like they’re real people just in the next room over, their fates merely common gossip to be murmured over a cup of tea. I need conversation and a break every twenty minutes to dance to the Spotify playlist.
I need my writing partner who shows up to every week and continues to encourage me while I question how I managed to write nearly thirty episodes in a fan fiction for my novel. Bridgette, you’re a constant source of support and love and I couldn’t do this without you.
I need to be prepping food at work in the morning and let my Mom ask me questions about my novels. Without even realizing, she pokes around my plots and double-checks my theories, giving me the confidence I’ll need in the future to sit on a panel and talk to people about my books.
I need to see that a couple of you, readers, have shown up to my blog or my vellas or simply liked a post on Instagram to remind me that there is a purpose in putting all of my messy thoughts onto this black and white document.
Writing isn’t a solitary event. It doesn’t only happen at a desk. It takes a community to give birth to imaginary concepts and witty characters and at least one or two people to remind the supposed writer that they should, in fact, be writing.
Thank you to everyone who continues to come here and read.
It’s time for this writer to sink into a hot bath and talk to her imaginary friends for a little bit. Have a wonderful week. I’ll see you next Wednesday!
What have I been up to? Everything and nothing. A vicious cycle of work and hobbies and staring at a screen while trying to will the words I need for this week to just write themselves.
Henri’s story is done. He’s going to be edited this evening and posted in time for his weekly update on Friday. Prince Aldric plays an imposing character across from Henri in this Beauty and the Beast retelling. Check out this link if you want to catch up before the new episode drops: A Secret in the Thorns
Ashby is started. He has grand plans for his returned proposal to Lucy. There’s 1500 words already in his story, but it’ll likely be a little longer than usual to find the rest of this particular episode. I have a full cast to balance and every one of these complicated characters wants to shine their brightest. Get caught up on Lore here if you want to be ready for the eventual release of the next episode: Lore by Angelica Reece
When not writing or working or staring at that pile of laundry in the corner, I’ve been embroidering. My next craft show is this coming Sunday at the Bloom festival in Elk Grove. There are so many bright fabrics and tangled threads and obstinate hoops to wrestle through in the remaining evenings between now and then. It’s exciting and nerve wracking every time I have one of these events! I’ll let you all know next week how well it goes!
The world is chaotic. Time seems accelerated. February is as good a time as any for self-care, so don’t forget to take deep breaths and notice the buds growing on the tree in the backyard. Linger in the kitchen, so your beautiful wife will come looking for you and steal a kiss by the stove. Take an extra two minutes to pet the dog. Eat something full of sugar even as the green light on the microwave warns that one o’clock is around the corner. There’s a pile of books on the shelf waiting to be read and a mess around the house, but it can wait a moment more to do the things that matter.
This has been the fastest and simultaneously longest month of my life. I turned 26 and was reminded of all the amazing people who gather together to celebrate me. The wife and I ran into financial issues and had to lean on family to continue forward. A family member was hospitalized and it felt like the world stood still.
It seems there’s nothing better to do than simply hold on while the waves of this world continue to splash alongside our boat.
So, here’s some good stuff:
I wrote! This time last year I was struggling with depression and barely opening my writing apps or journals. It was hard to hear my characters. This month? They couldn’t leave me alone and we managed to add an entirely new cast for my beauty and the beast retelling.
I watched terrible horror films and threw popcorn at the woman I love in the house we own while our dog pranced the room.
We cooked in our kitchen and danced to pop music and kissed where the moon snuck a peek into the window.
Amidst the tears and the panic and the hopelessness crammed into the business of everyday jobs and routines, we laughed and held onto each other and that’s all I can ask for in this life.
Together.
If that’s a message that resonates with you, check out Ashby’s new episode coming out this Friday to see the promising proposal between him and Lucy: Lore by Angelica Reece
My editor is going over Henri’s chapter today, too, so he’ll also be available on Friday. Catch up on this awesome retelling here: A Secret in the Thorns by Angelica Reece
Here’s to the beginning of February and hoping for a stroke of good luck sprinkled into the fibers of each day.
I don’t think I’ll ever grow bored of the way Erisa Nabil murmurs every sentence. She curls up like a cat next to me, her legs crossed as she settles into the booth, her long fingers wrapped around the neck of an expensive bottle of vodka she has definitely not been sharing with the regular guests. She’s celebrating.
“We still have to make it to midnight,” I tease, her good mood already pushing away the nervous edge that has clung to me all night.
I don’t move away when she presses closer to me, our shoulders touch as she lets her head rest on the back of the tall seat. Under the table, our thighs brush, neither of us dressed in anything that covers us. Just my bare skin against hers.
I barely manage to blow out a stuttering breath. This. It’s… electric.
I mentioned it to Ashby once in the first few months here in Las Vegas. He told me it was normal. Erisa has had plenty of lifetimes to create her perfectly brittle exterior. She knows how to lure her prey in by seeming demure and wanton. It’s a piece of ancient magic very alive in her amber eyes.
It happens to everyone.
Except, I don’t think she treats me like anyone else. There’s a purr to her words that vanishes when shouting commands to our staff. She chooses her words carefully when she speaks to me. Any other time, she’s lightning fast wit that could give whiplash to our drunk and handsy regulars.
This, I think, is something else.
I’m supposed to be going back to the hotel to give Ashby his midnight kiss for the new year, but I’ve come up with a thousand excuses over the last fifteen minutes to linger here. I can still make it if I leave in the next five minutes. I can just hail down a cab and hop on over to the street and meet him outside where I know he’s probably already pacing.
I wanted to see her before I stepped out, though. See her smile. See her shimmer in the glow of success. Erisa Nabil was supposed to be a queen in her past life. I like her very much as a business owner, though.
“Even if everyone left now instead of waiting the next ten minutes, we would be up in profits for the entire year. We’ve done as much tonight as I usually do in a month.” Her eyes are open as she looks down at me, a hidden message sitting there behind her pupils just out of my reach. “You made this happen, Lucy Lore.”
She tips her slender neck back and drinks straight from the bottle before shoving it in my direction. I shouldn’t. My head is already fuzzy and I have to make it back to the hotel. At least, I think I tell her that I shouldn’t. Before I know it, however, the hot liquid is burning the back of my throat while the lingering flavor of her dragon fruit lip gloss clings to my tongue.
The bottle ends up on the table. Her fingers are cradling my face. I think she asks me a question.
I don’t know what it is, just that my answer is yes. If she’s asking, the answer will always be yes.
Leaning forward, Erisa presses her mouth to mine. She’s all demand. Her fangs pull at my bottom lip, not enough to break the skin, but hard enough to remind me that she’s more than capable of tearing me apart piece by delicate piece.
I think I would like it.
I think…
I’m not thinking.
Shaking my head, I struggle out of her grasp. “I have to go.”
Her fingers form a gentle circle around my wrist. There’s a request written across her vulnerable expression. I just shake my head.
This is getting out of hand. I have other promises to uphold. I’ll see her next time we work.
No words pass my lips, but she lets me go. I hope she understands. I need her to understand. My heart is spoken for already and I won’t be the one to teach Ashby Carter about infidelity.
We have a good relationship. Me and Ris. We work well together. I love my job and our time together, but I can’t offer her much else. No matter how much I want to turn around and ask her to kiss me again.
A small voice in the back of my mind tries to reason that Ashby would understand. Syrens and vampires have always been bound together. Somehow my bloodline was always meant to find that of a Nabil, a creature old enough that it predates the science that created Ashby and his brothers.
The rest of my liquored brain is blaring an alarm to get out now and I listen to it, staggering out on my heels against the flux of hot bodies and confetti poppers people are setting off early for the occasion. Swiveling lights meant for the disco balls near the ceiling pierce my eyes as I make my way to the door. Out. I need to get out and everyone is in the way. My success is now my downfall as I grumble apologies to the three hundred excited participants of our little rebranding event and shove towards the exit.
Finally. I suck in a huge gulp of air as I pass the door.
And then realize that I didn’t grab my purse or my coat.
Rain splashes onto the sidewalk. I linger in the overhand of the building and stare at it. Water has never bothered me before. I used to live by the ocean and swim in its frozen waves.
I can handle a brisk walk in the rain.
Right?
I have to because there’s no way I’m heading back into that club and chancing another intimate moment with Erisa. I don’t have my phone, so I can’t call Ashby. I don’t have my wallet, so there’s no way to pay a cab. My feet work fine, though.
I can do this. I can do this. I’m pretty sure I can do this.
It’s only two blocks to the hotel.
I make it out from under the awning. The rain finds me immediately, reveling in the low cut dress that leaves my chest and most of my back open for its icy touch. Three steps into my journey and I already have my arms crossed in front of myself to ward off the cold as my jaw clenches in an attempt to stop my teeth from chattering.
This is a bad idea. I’m not going to go back, though.
Head down, I trudge along the sidewalk. A car zooms by on my right. I barely see the wave of water it splashes my way before it dunks me from head to toe.
Hot tears leak from my eyes as I pull the drenched scrunchie out of my leaking hair and brush it back from my face. It’s not even supposed to rain this much in the desert. This has to be karma. It’s what I deserve for getting carried away on the magic of Erisa Nabil.
“Lucy?”
I glance up in time to see Ashby jog across the street. He has his jacket off by the time he gets to me, throwing it over my shoulders before I can protest or tell him that I’m not worth his chivalrous behavior. He’s such a good guy and I…
I don’t know what I am.
Not good.
My heart is too big. I have too many emotions. I think, given the chance in another lifetime, I could definitely love Erisa just as much as I do Ashby.
Which, if I believe the common media, makes me a whore. A cheater. A bad woman.
Ashby has me wrapped in his coat and whisked off to the hotel room in no time, his dark magic sweeping us off of the wet streets. The constant pelting of fat rain drops is replaced with numbing nothingness. It’s quiet in the room. Candles line the windowsill and rose petals cover the bedspread.
Ashby Carter is too good for me.
I’m sobbing before he has a chance to ask me what’s wrong. Too cold, too overwhelmed, I can’t feel my legs. Somehow I end up on the ground. Ashby follows, crouching next to me with a towel to dry the water from my face.
“Hey, it’s okay. Ris called. I’m not upset.”
He has to repeat himself four or five times before any of his words actually penetrate the grief building a fortress around my mind. “She told you we kissed?”
He offers a lopsided grin as I clap a hand over my traitorous lips. “She forgets her manners when she’s happy. It’s okay. You can’t guess how many times she’s kissed me or one of my brothers.”
A hiccup bubbles out from me as I try to swallow my heavy breaths and calm down. He knows. Ashby knows and he’s not mad.
Somewhere down the hall, there’s cheers from other guests. It must be midnight. Ashby glances to my lips.
“What’s your wish for the new year, Lady Lore?”
“To be enough for you,” I whisper immediately.
He shakes his head. “You are. You always will be. Promise to always come back to me?”
Forgetting my wet clothes and misery, I throw my arms around his neck as I crawl into his lap. “Of course I promise.”
He doesn’t complain about my cold body as he presses a kiss to my head. “I promise, too. Always, Lucy Lore. No matter what happens in the next year or the next ten or the next fifty if you’ll give me all that time, I will always be here and I will always love you.”
“I love you.”
My words are eclipsed by his lips. We kiss. He’s a decadent chocolate meant to be unwrapped slowly before thoroughly enjoyed. He’s the warmth of a fire when I just stumbled in from a hurricane. He’s warm and safe and mine.
He doesn’t fill me with electricity like Erisa. And that’s okay.
I think.
I think that everything will be okay. As long as we’re together and honest and true to ourselves.
The new year rings in. We’re together on the floor and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Author’s Note
Happy New Year to all of my favorite readers! It has been a whirlwind six months for me, going from keeping every snippet of my writing saved in a drawer in my desk to putting a little bit of different characters onto this blog to publishing whole chapters on Lore. Every view and comment and congratulations in person has made me feel validated and loved and pushed forward on this reckless attempt to be a “real” writer.
I am nervous and excited to start this new year. Nervous that this was all a fluke and I’ll suddenly fail. Excited that maybe I won’t and that I have no real idea of what success is going to look like in the coming months. I have plans to start more published series on kindle vella as well as working out a schedule to post more frequently here. No matter where the next year takes me in my writing journey, it started here at the gentle suggestion from Bridgette to actually show people my writing. I will always be grateful for that push and for the feedback I got in these first months.
You, readers, are the reason I haven’t given up. Thank you for coming back week after week.
If you enjoyed this story, please leave a like and a comment in the section down below. If you want more of Lucy and Ashby and Erisa, be sure to check out Lore on kindle vella: Lore by Angelica Reece
As always, please take an extra minute to read Bridgette’s amazing story and follow her page to see where the new year takes her as well!
We’re eating Chinese food. Again. It seems to be Ashby’s absolute favorite. Take out boxes stick out of the top of the garbage can as I shove in the last few and then return to the fridge to put away the leftovers.
“Come eat. I can take care of that.”
The silly man pops back into the kitchen from the living room, our plates of food balanced in his hands as he gives me a meaningful look that suggests saying no isn’t really an option. Sticking my tongue at him, I cross the space between us and accept my plate. We haven’t picked out a kitchen table yet. I’ve convinced him that we really should have it before the holidays, but he’s skeptical of online shopping and we haven’t decided on a day to visit the furniture warehouse.
I settle onto my spot on the couch, my laptop already set up on a chair opposite our sitting space to give us something to watch. “What are you in the mood for tonight, Mr. Carter?”
Mouth already too full of orange chicken, he gives me a shrug and motions for me to click something. Rolling my eyes at his silly expression, I turn on the documentary I was in the middle of on my lunch break at work. A complex look into numerology and astrology and the way the two sciences might be able to help each other further find answers to the biggest questions of the world.
“I didn’t know you were so interested in the stars, Lucy.”
I give him a shrug as I spin chow mein noodles around my fork. “I like to watch all sorts of things. The last one was about the ocean.”
He nods along to my words. “I remember. You didn’t like the giant squids.”
“The purpose of the video was to talk about recycling and cleaning up the ocean. They didn’t need to traumatize me with clips of the scariest aliens in the universe.”
Ashby throws his head back and chuckles like I’m the most hilarious person ever. I love his laugh. I love the way that he lets the sound vibrate from his chest to his mouth like he’s savoring every part of it. It reminds me that he hasn’t always had a happy life.
Rather than get into our crappy origin stories, I focus on the computer screen as dictionary definitions for different words flash across the video. Ashby munches next to me, the sound competing with the calm voice of the documentary. He’s an impeccable eater when anybody else is here, but an absolute gremlin when we’re alone.
He trusts me enough to be himself.
That thought settles like a brick in my stomach. It knocks the wind from my chest. I almost choke on my last bite of food.
He trusts me.
Me?
I was a mess when we met. I’m still a giant mess. Ashby Carter flaunts our relationship. He shows me off and then stands back when it’s my turn to perform. I don’t know what to say other than he’s absolutely perfect. Even my mom liked him.
I just don’t know if I’ll ever be enough.
He’s had eighty years of life before running into me. There’s no way for me to bridge that kind of experience. I’m making shit up as I go. Whether at work where I challenge my boss for more hours and to give me creative freedom or out at any of the fancy restaurants Ashby wants to try after dressing me up in all sorts of colored fabrics, I always feel a bit out of my own depth.
Everyone else has their shit figured out and I’m over here watching videos steeped in conspiracy theories.
Real sexy, Lucy. That’s what gets a guy to stay.
“Do you think any of this has real substance to it?” He asks next to me, his hand halfway raised to his mouth with a piece of broccoli while he arches an eyebrow at me.
I knew he wasn’t going to like it. “We can watch something else.”
He drops his fork and grabs my wrist before I can click the laptop mouse and put myself out of this misery. “Why? I’m enjoying it.”
I shake my head. “You think it’s silly.”
Confusion clouds his dark eyes. “It’s not silly. I think it’s interesting. You’re interesting, Lucy, and I’ve never seen this topic discussed before. I just wanted to know if you think it’s real?”
It might be foolish of me to tell the truth, but I can’t lie to him, so I nod my head. “I hope so. I’d like to believe that there isn’t necessarily an omniscient spirit carving out our lives, but that the universe has a hand in crafting fate. How else would I have run into you and fallen in love?”
Pink colors his cheeks. “You don’t think my good looks and awkward tendencies had anything to do with falling in love?”
His hand is still on my wrist, those cool fingertips pressing against my pulse as I smile at him. “It might have done a little something. We’re basically opposite astrological signs, so I guess the universe didn’t technically set us up for success.”
Questions flit over his features. It’s not a night for questions. My scientist can’t focus on anything else until he thinks he has an entire problem solved. I tug him close and silence him with a kiss.
Ashby melts against me, his immediate reaction to deepen our intimate touch as he carefully balances his plate in his other hand. This. I could do this every day and I believe that we were destined to stay together.
Tears threaten to spill. I need a moment to myself. Just to gather my thoughts and compose myself. My emotions are sitting right under the surface of my skin. They’re pushing and pushing and going to spill over if I can’t go take a deep breath and calm down.
“Where are you going?”
I barely manage to lean back and disentangle myself from the man. Off the couch. I have to move and get space and… and I don’t know what else, but I can’t draw a full breath and there’s tears already blurring my vision.
Crap. I don’t want him to see me like this.
I don’t have a way to answer. Shaking my head at Ashby’s next words, I leave at a slight jog, taking my entire plate with me to the bathroom as I close and lock the door behind me. I let the plate sit on the edge of the sink as I settle onto the ledge of the bathtub. There’s no stopping the tears.
I bury my face in my hands, but it’ll never be enough to silence the sobs coming out of me. Ashby can hear. He can hear everything. Usually, it’s cute, but right now I don’t need him privy to my mental breakdown.
As always, he’s there anyway, his voice low on the other side of the door. “Lucy? Did I say something wrong?”
No.
He could never say anything wrong. That’s the problem.
I’m the problem and I have no idea how to express that without him coming to the rescue like a vampire in shining armor.
“I can’t help if you don’t talk to me, Lucy.”
My chest is so tight. I stagger to my feet and stare at my red face in the mirror. I don’t know how to fix this. I don’t know how to feel better. How’s a girl like me supposed to wake up every day next to someone like him and feel like the world isn’t going to tear us apart?
He’s too good to be true.
There’s some crinkling on the other side of the door. Ashby must have brought his food, too. I listen to him rustle in the hallway as I grab a handful of toilet paper and attempt to fix the mess that is my face.
“You believe in constellations bringing people together, right?”
It’s not exactly how I would usually phrase the concept of astrology, but I don’t bother correcting him as we continue to speak through the door. “Yeah,” my voice leaves me in a croak, the traitorous vocal cords doing nothing to mask the fact that I’m upset from the caring man waiting for me.
There’s a snap and then Ashby’s voice filters through the wood once more. “So, do fortune cookies fall into the same category? Like fate has a way of making sure you get the right words at the right time?”
“I suppose.”
“I hope so, because mine says,” there’s a dramatic pause as he pulls the paper out from the cookie. “You will marry your lover.”
I let out a hiccup as I smile at myself in the mirror. “Marriage, Ashby? Is that something you’re already thinking about?”
“It’s something I would like to think about with you. You’re my everything, Lucy Lore.”
Here he goes again. Telling me that I’m amazing. He’ll confess to our empty hall that I bring magic into his life. The walls of this house have heard every way he can possibly phrase the words I love you. Ashby Carter loves loudly and on repeat.
He deserves a girl who does the same.
“What if you find someone who is better?”
“That’s impossible. I want you, Lucy. I’m not going to change my mind.”
For a genius, Ashby can be so thick sometimes. I don’t want to spell out my insecurities to him. I don’t even know if I can find the words to do so, but we’re clearly not going to continue our evening until I can, so I try my best to get it out.
“What if we get fifteen years down the line and you realize that I’m annoying or I just stop fitting into your life? You have a whole family that’s immortal. I haven’t even met your older brother. What if he hates me and you decide to take his side?”
I wish I could see him. He probably has his forehead on the door as he listens to each and every syllable of my ridiculous monologue.
“Love isn’t something that just happens to people, Lucy. It’s a choice. I’ve made it every day since you patched me up after the carnival and I’ll continue to make it every day after that. I want everything you’ll give me and I’ll never think you’re boring or annoying or not enough.”
“But how do you know?” I’m yelling the words at my reflection, the stupid girl in the mirror pressing me to get to the bottom of this before we lose our heart completely to that man out there.
“I just do, Lucy.”
Hot tears streak down my cheeks. It’s not enough. I can’t base my entire future on him just happening to think he knows something.
“I was born in 1926, Lucy Lore. Since then, I’ve survived war and been transformed into something more than human. I’ve loved one person before you and only stopped when he threw me out of his life.” There’s a short pause as he takes a shuddering breath on the other side of the door, the impact of those words rattling me to my bones. “I’m not asking you to be certain about this right now, but I’ve lived long enough to know when I want something, someone, and I will never give up on you. If you asked me to leave, Lucy, I would, but I wouldn’t stop loving you.”
That’s it. The right combination of words to thaw the icy hold my emotions have had on my heart. I leave the sink in a near sprint, fumbling with the lock and crashing out into the hall.
Later, he’s going to lecture me about how hard it is to get fried rice off of the floor. Now, though, he doesn’t say anything about the plate of food on the floor, the sweet and sour sauce exploded over both of our ankles. I wrap my arms around him and bury my face in his shoulder.
“Just tell me if you ever start to resent me.”
He chuckles into my hair, promising that my worst fears will never come.
Author’s Note
This blog post was a special request from my number one fan and amazing spouse. She’s the entire reason behind my Lore series becoming a published sequence and I can’t so no when she begs for more Lucy and Ashby scenes.
Let me know in the comments below if you enjoyed this week’s story and be sure to check out Lore on kindle vella to catch up with these two characters: Lore
Reece Writing 