6. Vaelin
Chapter six
Vaelin
I ’ve made a horrible mistake.
Well…a series of horrible mistakes.
First off, I picked the kindest possible soul to con during the season of giving, Gods help me. Then , I started my play…only to give it up.
Now, I’ve spent money on the guy, and I’ve invited him over to meet my family.
And he has no idea that he started out the night as a mark.
What is wrong with me?
I can make out my parents’ house from here, and the smell of baking bread hits me a moment later. Theo’s stomach audibly growls as he peers into the distance, toward the golden windows of my childhood home. It sends up a plume of smoke into the snow, the scent getting stronger and stronger.
“Is that their house?” he asks. “It smells amazing.”
“Yeah, my parents are bakers,” he says. “The halfling side have always been bakers–it’s what they wanted me to do, too.”
“And why didn’t you?”
I shrug. “Eh…it’s not really a story worth telling.”
We climb the stone steps to the round front door, which is lovingly inscribed in gold with Golden Crust Bakery . I don’t knock; I just push open the door, the scent of mulled wine, baked bread, and a Yuletide feast rolling out.
Theo’s stomach growls even louder.
“Didn’t you just eat?” I ask.
“Sorry,” he says, and I realize he’s blushing–his olive green cheeks tinted pink. “I’ve got a big appetite.”
Theo has to duck his head to get inside the house, and I quickly realize that he’ll have to walk hunched over the whole time he’s here. It isn’t like I have time to worry about that though–because my mother will do it for me.
She sees us from the sitting room, where she’s lighting candles all over the room. Her face lights up at the sight of me–and the huge warrior behind me.
“Vaelin!” she says. “And you must be Theo…”
She comes forward, extending a hand. Theo reaches out to shake it. “It’s a pleasure, Mrs…”
He pauses, giving me a panicked look. I didn’t ever give him a last name.
“Please, just call me Alessia,” my mom says. “But please, come sit down–I don’t want you having to stoop like that all night.”
Theo’s hand still in hers, my mom guides him to the sitting room, where she has him sit on the too-small sofa. It’s more like an armchair for him–not that he’s complaining.
“You’re so kind inviting me over tonight,” Theo is saying. “Thank you.”
“It’s really no problem,” she says. “How did you and Vaelin meet?”
“Did Vaelin bring a boy home?” That’s my sister Calliope, poking her head out from the kitchen. There’s flour in her hair, probably from helping out my dad with the meal.
“It’s not like that,” I cut in.
“Oh, don’t be embarrassed, Vaelin,” my mom says. “I won’t ask too many questions. This isn’t an interrogation.”
I beg to differ.
Calliope comes strolling out of the kitchen with a satisfied smirk on her face, looking into the living room. She does a double-take, her eyes wide as she looks back at me. “Gods, Vaelin, are you sure he isn’t…you know. Too big ?”
Getting the implication, I scowl. “Aren’t you a little too young to be asking questions like that? And besides, he’s just a friend.”
“If you say so.”
“Keep that attitude up and you’re not getting your gift,” I chide.
She goes still, immediately putting on puppy dog eyes. She knows how to use them expertly–at her halfling height, it’s even more effective. “You wouldn’t come home and deny your only sister a gift, would you?”
I snort, reaching into my pocket and passing over the box with the unicorn in it. “I hope you like it.”
I leave her behind to open her gift, anxious about leaving Theo alone with my mother. He’s handling himself admirably, though, smiling and nodding along–and being strategic with the answers he gives her about who he is.
“You chose a good time to visit Hearthwynd!” my mom is saying. “Yuletide’s our best season. Are you staying long, or just for the holiday?”
Theo hesitates, glancing at me as if he can find the answer in my face. “I’m not sure yet,” he says. “I’ve got some…things to figure out.”
That’s vague enough to keep her from prying further–and my dad comes to the rescue, big voice booming from the kitchen. “Dinner’s almost ready!”
We migrate to the dining room, all of us converging on the table. It’s already been set, courtesy of Calliope–the wooden unicorn marking her place at the table. To their credit, my family has set a place for Theo with our sturdiest chair.
He’s too big for this space–his broad shoulders nearly brush the walls, and his movements are comically delicate as he tries not to knock anything over–but somehow, he fits.
Not physically, not even a little bit.
But…it feels right.
I am so screwed.
My dad comes out of the kitchen with a flourish, carrying the centerpiece of the whole meal–a spiced roast, cooked to perfection. He puts it down on the table and only then does he size up Theo, who’s now sitting down. Even sitting down, Theo is bigger than my father, who stands at a little less than four feet. My dad extends his hand, beaming.
“Well, if it isn’t Vaelin’s boyfriend–”
“It really isn’t like that,” I interrupt. “I’m sorry, Theo, it’s pretty presumptuous of them to assume you like–”
“I do,” he blurts out.
Everyone goes quiet. Theo’s face turns bright red. “I mean…I like–I like all people. Not just–”
“What did you make, dad?” I interrupt.
My family all looks at me like they’re mad I cut Theo off.
Then, to my relief, we all move on.
Dinner is served; my mother takes a moment to pray to her elven gods, and then we’re all getting helpings of the roast, potatoes, homemade rolls. My dad talks Theo through the whole meal, eager to share his recipes, while my mom keeps asking questions about Theo’s life–which he clumsily dodges.
But other than those half-assed lies he attempts…he handles it like a champ. He laughs at my dad’s jokes, compliments the food like he means it, and even takes my sister’s jabs in stride.
After dinner, we move back to the sitting room, cider mugs in hand. My mother insists on lighting the hearth and adding some kind of enchanted log that makes the flames shimmer in gold and green. It’s beautiful, but I’m too busy stealing glances at Theo to fully appreciate it.
He’s sitting on the too-small sofa again, hunched slightly. Calliope insists on re-braiding his beard, this time weaving mistletoe and holly into it.
He looks…at ease, like he belongs here. Like he’s already part of the family.
And that’s the problem.
Because I’ve known him all of three hours, and all of this is built on a lie.
He doesn’t know that I was planning to scam him, that I spent the first hour of our acquaintance trying to figure out how much I could get out of him. He doesn’t know that I didn’t invite him here because I’m nice–nice is not how anyone I know would describe me–but because I didn’t know what else to do.
And now he’s sitting here, smiling at my mom’s stories, complimenting my dad’s cooking, and being exactly the kind of person they’d want me to bring home for real.
I am so, so screwed.