Chapter 29
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Let’s go out with a bang.
Maelin
Thunder shakes the house while I realize that it’s actually quite difficult to eat a taco one handed, regardless of whether or not I have my dominant hand. Zakery, prince that he is, does not appear to possess this problem. But I, I do. I have showered the floor beneath me in olives, and I only managed to get about two bites in my mouth before beans slapped into my plate, narrowly missing christening my dress.
It’s worth it, though. Zakery’s eased some, and he’s almost actually smiled twice. Both times were because I dropped my food. But I’ll take it.
The tug of his mouth as he fought down a laugh—probably thinking he shouldn’t laugh at me in front of my parents (who do more laughing at me than anyone else in the world)—has been everything.
“It’s incredible that you just have all these ideas for drawings and stories,” Dad’s saying, having made a salad out of taco ingredients on his plate. He stabs some lettuce. “Your artwork is beautiful.”
“Mm.” Mom nods, finishing her bite of soft taco. “Stunning. We ordered your books. They’re just gorgeous. We were hoping if it’s not too forward, you might sign them before you head back home.”
“Oh, yes. Of course,” Zakery says, eyes wide. “You…you really like them?”
“Your scenery is breathtaking. Isn’t landscape hard for most artists?” Dad asks.
“Hands also,” Mom interjects. “Not a single one of your hands made my skin crawl. They all looked like people hands.”
Wow, Mom. Compliment of the ages right there. Stuffing my giggle down, I forfeit trying to eat my taco like a taco and scoop some veggies atop my meat and beans before putting the spoonful in my mouth.
As though he’s been blessed with kindnesses beyond his ken, Zakery says, “T-thank you. That…” He swallows, braces himself. “…means a lot to me.”
The day moves forward, lightning crashing across the sky. Zakery and I help clear the table and do the dishes before we retire to the living room. Despite my best efforts, Dad drags out the old family album, plops it on Zakery’s lap, then falls into the couch beside him.
My boyfriend very carefully opens the thing while I cower behind a pillow next to him. Upon seeing Morana and my obligatory bath photo, he declares, “ Oh great heavens ,” and jolts his face away.
My parents, obviously, find this to be unparalleled entertainment. So they press him forward, into the foray of baby pictures .
Zakery’s poor cheeks have never been so red. He has never babbled so incoherently as when he has pointed out my itty-bitty baby hands and said, “ Small ,” while searching my eyes for solidarity.
Yeah, bud.
V small.
Today might be a storm, but it’s beautiful. Lightning, thunder, pouring rain, and Zakery slowly warming up to being in my home. It’s beautiful, watching him calm down, relax, sink into the couch he was sitting perfectly rigid upon at the start of this little show and tell.
It puts aside my worries, right up to the last page of the album.
As the book closes, stillness envelopes Zakery in a way that makes my spine tingle.
Then Dad ruins it by slapping his hands to his thighs and rising. “I’ve another one, of the high school years. Hold on.”
I melt. Awkward high school years. Yayy .
At least Zakery feels safe enough to release my hand and exchange the baby photos for my tween to teen disaster collection.
“Why are some…” Zakery’s voice fades, and I emerge from my pitiful bubble to find his finger resting against a picture of me, in a dress I made, staring longingly at…nothing.
Because half the photo has been cut off.
My chest tightens. “You didn’t have to do that,” I whisper.
“I did,” Mom says from her rocking chair on the other side of the small living room. “I very much did have to do that.” She huffs. “And it’s good we live in a big city because the likelihood I see him out and about in his—” She cusses. “—wolf ears and am able to hit him with my car is slim .”
My father, precious sunshine boy that he is, very solemnly lays his hand upon Zakery’s back, looks him in the eye, and says, “Son…you’re… wealthy , wouldn’t you say? Help run that compound of yours, don’t you?”
Ugh. I told my parents not to refer to Sunset as a compound in front of Zakery. We were doing so well.
Zakery tenses. “I, um, well. It’s not a compound, but yes, sir?”
“Are you…perchance… make people disappear wealthy?”
Knowing lights in Zakery’s eyes. “Yes, sir.” Tension releases. “I do, however, have a fairly strict no animal abuse policy. And regardless of the beliefs that man has concerning his soul’s present or past affiliations, I think we can all agree, he’s always been a female dog.”
Dad laughs, clapping Zakery on the back before getting up and grinning down at us. “Atta boy. Can I get you something to drink? It’s been a few hours since we ate, and it’s important to stay hydrated.” Bracing a hand at his mouth, he whispers, “If we don’t peer pressure Taylor into it, she won’t ever drink any water.”
When Zakery glances at me, I nod and whisper back, “It’s true.”
“I can hear you both,” Mom says.
“Huh? What?” I chirp. “We weren’t doing anything!”
“We would never conspire against anyone!” Dad ruffles Zakery’s hair. “I’ll get us all some water bottles, while she’s duped.”
Zakery, still, watches my father leave the room before looking at me again, his waves all in disarray, a certain childlike lostness in his eyes.
Smiling, I comb out his soft curls and kiss his forehead. His arm circles my waist, pulling me in until I can comfortably rest my head against his shoulder, close my eyes, and soak in his heat while rain hammers against the window. Peace. Peace to the very bones of my soul. I hope he can feel it, too.
“You were never like this with the mentally unstable one,” Mom comments. “There was always a foot of space between the two of you whenever he came over.” Her chin lifts. “In contrast, you both have seldom stopped touching for a moment.”
Zakery’s fingers flinch against me. “I’m sorry. Is this inappropriate?” He moves his arm. “I’ll stop. Entirely. Until it’s okay.”
I pin his hand back against me, snuggle, and answer my mother. “Harry saw affection as an invitation and would get mad at me if I initiated anything then stopped him. Refusing to touch me when he couldn’t go farther than something innocent is probably just one of the many ways he punished me for having boundaries.” It’s actually really disgusting how long we were together, how long I guess he tried to wear me down before he got bored and gave up. I’m glad I never budged. Not budging is the one smart thing I did where it concerns that horrible relationship.
“So,” Mom clips, “assassins. Know any, Zakery?”
He winces. “Sorry, I don’t.”
She heaves a sigh.
As Dad returns to pass out water bottles, Zakery carefully closes the photo album and hedges, “There’s…something I wanted to talk to you two about.”
Dad passes Mom a half-size itty-bitty baby water bottle, while we all get big grown adult people bottles. Her face prunes as she takes it, but she dutifully cracks open the lid and waits for Zakery to continue his statement as she takes a sip.
Bottle creaking in his hands, Zakery clears his throat. “I…realize it’s sudden, and this is the first time we’ve met, but—” His chest shakes as he lets out his air. “—a week from tomorrow, there’s an event known as the Creator’s Ball happening a few hours from here.”
“I think I saw something about that on the news,” Dad murmurs, settling in beside Mom.
Zakery nods. “I’ve been invited, along with most of my brothers. And there’s a good chance Maelin’s ex is going to be there.”
My parents, in unison, scowl, lips curling with disgust.
“I’ve asked Maelin to come with me, as my plus one. She’s…” Breath leaves him again as he fixes his gaze on me. “She’s made this beautiful suit, and she’s been working on this gorgeous, gorgeous gown… Inevitably, paths will cross. Feelings might rear. It might come to light that I am little more than a rebound or stepping stone away from the hurt that her ex caused. If, however, afterward Maelin decides that there’s more here than healing or learning and she’d like to, I have asked her to marry me.”
Mom’s eyes bug as my father’s mouth drops open. He asks, “You’ve known each other for how long?”
“It’s almost been a month,” I say.
“I love Maelin.” Zakery squeezes me and lifts a hand to push my hair back from my face, going dazed as he watches the strands. “I want to spend the rest of my life with her. I want to spend the rest of my life keeping her comfortable and happy.” He halts, pulls his focus off me, and returns it to my parents. “So, please. If she so chooses, grant me permission to marry your daughter in eight days.”
My parents’ brows lurch.
Lightning strikes.
Thunder booms .
And then the room plunges into pitch dark.