Chapter 13
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We don’t talk about Maelin.
Zakery
“Can we talk about Maelin?” Viktor asks while we’re in the kitchen, making dinner together, like great chums.
Knowing full well I spent close to thirty thousand dollars today on Maelin, I chirp, “Absolutely not,” and then I open the fridge. “Wow! Look how clean it is in here!” I grab out the cabbage I’m going to make into coleslaw and click my tongue. “Boy, bringing those pretty sisters into our lives was one of the best decisions anyone in this house has ever made.”
Sitting a safe distance away from all knives and sharp objects, my brother’s fiancée, Crisis, giggles as she continues typing on her laptop. Probably writing a book. Or making a murderboard.
I still need to email her the specs for the murderboard I want her to make for me, assuming I need one. Maybe I don’t. The plan is, after all, pretty straightforward. I think I simply want a murderboard.
My head has been all over the place today…
Viktor grumbles, “Do not encourage him, sweet pea.”
“I like the twins,” she says, eyes glittering like daggers. “I’ve liked them since we cleared them to live here. Now that they’re closer, I want to drop them in a fantasy novel together and make them fight dragons or find love.”
“Hey,” I protest, “Maelin is my muse. I’m the one dropping her in a fantasy graphic novel where she can ride dragons and find love.” Also, use magic that matches her eyes and breaks apart a frozen world. But I’m not giving up all my secrets. I’ve seen how fast this chick can write.
“You can both create stories using the same inspiration. They’ll be vastly different regardless.” Viktor rolls his eyes. “Now, about Maelin—”
“I don’t want to talk about Maelin.”
“I’d really like to talk about Maelin.”
“Everything is fine concerning Maelin. I have a great idea. Why don’t we talk about Morana? Hardworker, isn’t she?”
Viktor does not humor me with a response as he dumps his pasta into the rest of his mixture. Tonight, we’re having baked mac and cheese, coleslaw, and the fried chicken that is already in the air fryer.
I have another great idea.
Let’s talk about food .
“I love your baked macaroni, Viktor,” I say, endearingly, pulling on every last shred of my second to youngest brother charm. “You’re such a good cook.”
“Thanks,” he grates. “Because our parents refused to hire staff to feed us, I had to learn.”
My smile disappears. Low blow, brother. Low blow. Positioning myself as far from Crisis and my horrible brother as possible, I get a cutting board and a knife to begin shredding my cabbage.
“Are you in love with Mael—”
“ Yes , I spent thirty thousand dollars on Maelin today! She’s going to be our little seamstress mouse and needed a suitable workshop. Stop attacking me!” What my dearly beloved brother actually said catches up to me, and I pause.
I turn.
I find him with his mouth open and his brows knitted and…
He did not know about the thirty thousand dollar expense, did he?
“You what ?” he croaks.
“It was in my account. It’s not a big deal. This isn’t about the bank contacting you to confirm charges or something like that?”
Mute, he slowly shakes his head.
Crisis laughs. “Hey, hey, Viktor. How much did that retreat you put together for me cost?”
He frowns. “Hey nothing. That made money in the long run. You’re not helping.”
In my defense, if Maelin wants to throw together a few fursuits for me, what I’ve done can also make money. But that is not the point. “Did you ask if I was in love with her?”
“Yes. I did.” Pinching his brow and looking like he’s about to be sick, he mutters, “But I believe you’ve inadvertently answered my question.”
“It’s been a week and two days since we met, Viktor,” I state.
“It was instantaneous for me with Crisis.” My brother’s attention shifts toward his wife-to-be, scans her in a way that is so tender… I might throw up. “Wanting her hit me like a bus.”
Yeah. I’m well aware. Lust crashed into his virgin brain, and he knew that it had nothing to do with who Crisis was, so he gave himself two full years to simmer down, learn her character, see if the feelings went away.
Or got worse.
Obviously, they got worse.
So, now, they’re engaged, and I’m soon to have a murderboard-making sister.
Happily ever after, the end.
I drone, “I do not pine for Maelin, Viktor. My thoughts concerning the woman I confine in my bedroom for roughly seven hours a day maintain purity as flawless and pale as her angelic flesh.” I present innocence and grace as I sweep a hand to my chest. Then, I glare, biting out. “You know what our parents put me through. I don’t know how to be attracted to a woman. It’s just…muscle groups and bones and skin . Analyzing textures and pores and every fine hair. How quickly we forget that I don’t have a soul. How am I supposed to fall in love without one of those?”
Even when I’m teasing her about kisses, it’s all just going through the motions, mimicking the content I’ve researched for my own work. I’m putting on a romantic act . Because we’re practicing to present lovey-dovey nonsense in front of her useless idiot ex. I’m numb to all of it.
I’m numb to most things.
“Thirty thousand dollars, Zakery. Thirty thousand dollars, and a job for her sister, and going out on the weekend, and who knows what else,” Viktor murmurs, voice low, gentle, coaxing. Like I’m a wild animal about to bite. “Like you said, it’s only been a week and two days.”
“She…amuses me.” I turn back to my cabbage, cut into it, chop the bits into strands. “What’s the point of this? So what if I am in love with her and don’t realize it because I don’t know what that feels like? What then? Are you going to recommend I wait two years to make sure this amusement holds?”
“No.”
“Well?”
“I’d ask if there’s anything you need from me. Anything I could do to support you while you figure out your feelings. It’s…hard, dealing with new feelings. The world we grew up in didn’t teach us a lot of things about regulating our emotions, especially as we face foreign ones. I want to be there for you, unquestionably, just like you’ve been there for me whenever I ask for your help.”
I close my eyes as a wave of unfamiliar pressure builds inside me. “I appreciate that, Viktor.”
“Also, please stop dropping thirty grand on someone you’ve just met. Two years might be pushing it, but can you at least give this a month?”
His gruff tone jerks a smile out of me. Opening my eyes, I continue chopping my cabbage as I say, “No. Absolutely I cannot.”
In about a month, we’ll be at the Creator’s Ball.
She’ll face off against her rotten ex, find her closure, and decide whether or not she still wants me in her life in the same capacity we’ve been starting to nurture.
I don’t have the time to start in a month.
I need to milk this experience for everything I can get, right here, right now.
Because, eventually, everything I’ve ever thought has brought me close to feeling something…runs dry. It’s just a matter of time before the same thing happens with Maelin, and I’m left with the exhausting chore of maintaining the relationship through effort and memory and the knowledge that, yes, she is important to me.
I just can’t feel that importance anymore.