Chapter 12
WHERE A GRAND GESTURE IS MADE AND SPRING BLOOMS (AND THE BEARS ARE BACK)
S he was devastatingly handsome. Hair slicked back, leather pants and a white linen shirt, Erato gave herself one last look and tugged on the undone tie hanging loosely over her collar.
Yes, definitely handsome. And definitely devastatingly so.
She’d need every single part of that handsomeness and devastation.
She had messed up. Badly. She, the Muse of Erotic Poetry, of all things sex and romance, had missed all the signs and all the indicators that true love had found her, while she was wallowing in her own insecurity.
In her own estimation of being never enough, not quite a goddess and not mortal, but thoroughly insignificant by her own standards.
“You were always enough, you know?” Aphrodite laid her hands on Erato’s shoulders and their eyes met in the mirror.
“You didn’t choose me, Dite.” Erato knew her voice was thready, the lump in her throat at her friend’s confession making it difficult to breathe.
Aphrodite’s hands gave her a squeeze before falling off.
“Some things don’t work out, not because we are not enough, or too much. Some things don’t work out because others are on their way.” Her palms lifted instinctively to her abdomen, and Erato’s eyes widened. Before she could start squealing, Aphrodite gently placed a finger on her lips.
“Hush now, it’s still very early and we are not saying anything. But I knew the very moment it happened, of course.”
Erato smiled against her friend’s finger.
“Being the Goddess of this kind of thing, you’d know.” Aphrodite smirked, and Erato continued. “I bet Athena is doing cartwheels.”
Aphrodite laughed. “She is absolutely insufferable. I can’t even get my own cup of tea, not to mention she has all these apps about how big the baby is supposed to be every week. A pea, a bean. Ridiculous.”
“Aw, that is so adorable. You love it. Quit your whining. A wife and a baby in just a few months. You’re amazing. And you really lucked into this marriage, Dite.”
Aphrodite gave her a hug, their gazes still holding each other in the mirror.
“Yes, I did. And so have you. Or at least once you make it a marriage.”
The lump in Erato’s throat was back.
“I fucked up, Dite. I was so far up my you-know-what, wallowing in self-pity, indulging my trauma that I didn’t see her. I didn’t notice…”
Aphrodite took a step to the side and shrugged.
“First of all, are you seeing a therapist or something? Because, yes, girl. To all of that spiel about you being an a-s-s,” Aphrodite spelled the word and covered her belly, as if the baby could hear her.
Erato, who knew nothing about babies, imagined Demeter with a child, her child and nearly fainted.
Then Aphrodite spoke again. “As for seeing Demeter… You know, nobody does. So what’s one more?”
Erato sobered instantly and hackles went up.
“Don’t say that! She’s amazing, a miracle, an angel?—”
Aphrodite smirked, clearly getting the exact reaction she wanted.
“And that is what you should say. Emphatically. Just like that.”
Erato’s shoulders drooped. Nothing like pre-gaming the big speeches with her dear friend the Goddess of Love, one hopped up on pregnancy hormones and yet manipulative enough to get Erato exactly where she wanted her.
With a last look in the mirror, Aphrodite gave Erato a kiss, then took an extra second to wipe the lipstick from her cheek. Erato felt tears threaten.
“Wish me luck, Dite.”
“You don’t need it, Erato, you are the sexiest muse. The most talented romance writer of our time. You’re smart and gorgeous. And you have such a wonderful heart. Luck has nothing to do with it. All you have to do is be and the women?—”
Erato rolled her eyes and exited the room before Aphrodite finished her pep talk.
“No women, Dite. Just one. Just one Goddess, please.”
The Beltane Festival on Calton Hill in Edinburgh was a sight to behold.
The dark night was illuminated by thousands of fires, people dancing and drinking, chanting, praying.
Several stages were set up with performances happening all at once.
The participants were wandering from one to the other, drinking, eating and being merry.
Any other time, Erato would have joined the most rambunctious of the groups and gotten lost in the dancing and the celebrations of spring.
But that was any other time. This time she immediately homed in on the rather large group of Olympians, watching a performance that could only have been directed by Melpomene, the Muse of Tragedy, outdoing herself in yet another production.
From the side stage, Erato caught a glimpse of her favorite Cupid fleeting between the performers, fixing their clothes.
Abby Angellini really had that knack for tailoring and originality in her costumes.
“Should I be offended that it’s my wife who is your favorite?”
Sabine’s voice near her ear almost made Erato jump. Sheer force of will held her in place. That and the unwillingness to make any moves that could ruin her hair.
“I highly doubt anything can ruin that devastatingly handsome hair.” Sabine snarked and Erato had to roll her eyes.
“Did Aphrodite narc on me? When could she even have done so? I literally just walked away from her. And quit reading my mind, Sabine. It’s annoying.”
Sabine’s expression turned smug.
“It’s not. It’s enlightening. Illuminating.
All this devastation unleashed on unsuspecting women.
How do you do it?” The theatrics did not pacify Erato, but, as Sabine went on, she suspected they were not meant to.
“Plus, everything you’re thinking is written on your face.
And as for Dite narcing. We have a group chat, darling.
It’s called “Devastatingly Handsome and Totally Clueless”.
Needless to say, it’s entirely dedicated to you. ”
Sabine’s hand lifted and fixed Erato’s collar, taking the sting out of her words somewhat. Erato sighed.
“You don’t have to tell me I messed up. Dite already did. Hera did, believe it or not. Even her bears did.” At Sabine’s uncomprehending eyebrow raise, Erato shrugged. “You don’t want to know.”
“Probably for the best.” Sabine tugged the collar once again, expression slightly pouty.
“As for the clueless part, my dear, I did everything that was in my power. I even came out of retirement just for you. And you can imagine what that cost me. Zeus has been on my case for weeks now, since he thinks I am back in business.” Sabine made gagging noises.
Erato could sympathise. Still, this was one aspect of the entire ordeal that she simply could not comprehend, nor like, no matter how much she tried.
“So you forced a Perfect Match on me and Demeter?”
Sabine’s groan was nothing short of exasperated.
“Don’t growl at me or whatever.” Erato stood her ground valiantly. “You didn’t have to shoot an arrow at Aphrodite, and everyone knows your own wasn’t a Perfect Match, so why me?”
Sabine took a deep breath, then another. Erato was certain she was counting to ten on the inside. When she finally looked more composed, she spoke.
“Because of you and because of Demeter. Some matches don’t need help.
Don’t need arrows or circumstances or pushing.
People just fall. But this match? The two of you fought it tooth and nail and needed to see that you were not just perfect, but perfect for each other.
Granted, turns out only Demeter realized I had a hand and an arrow in this.
” Sabine rolled her eyes and Erato felt it was at her being as clueless as she was.
Sabine fiddled with her collar some more.
“Imagine my surprise at finding out that you actually fell without ever knowing there was an arrow in the midst of it all. You managed that all by yourself. And, well, then you managed to fuck this all up, also all by your lonesome.”
Sabine finally let go of her collar and Erato breathed deeper.
“But Demeter?”
“Well, you will have to ask her how she feels. About the arrow, about you.”
“Hence the hair, Sabine. I need all the help I can get for those questions and to fix it.”
Sabine’s laughter was loud and honest.
“That you do, Erato, that you do, though Fates know that nobody can resist perfection such as yourself.” Sabine pushed her in the direction of the group of revelers, who were squabbling over something.
As Erato approached, she saw that Zeus—and what in the ambrosia was he even doing here—and Poseidon were crowding Demeter, who was valiantly holding her own against the two brawny giants.
She looked cornered, troubled, and so beautiful, Erato felt the electric current of their connection run down her spine. Yeah, she was a fool. They never needed the golden bond. They didn’t even need the damn Perfect Match arrow.
They had each other, and they were perfect. Though, it was probably a good idea that both the bond and the arrow were employed, since she had been completely oblivious. She’d have to send flowers to both Hera and Sabine later.
“This spring business has gone on for far too long, Demeter! And you can’t tell me you can’t fix that small issue of the water crisis in the—” Zeus boomed even as Demeter balled her fists.
“It isn’t my responsibility! Poseidon is right here?—”
“D, you know as well as I that drinking water ain’t my thing and if only you did what you always do instead of going MIA for the past few months—” Poseidon almost fell over himself to escape Demeter’s steely gaze.
But Erato had had enough. She’d heard enough and seen enough and, honestly, these pricks had said and done enough as well.
She coughed, then coughed again, but the gods and goddesses around her were so captivated by the fight brewing that a random muse did not have the power to distract them.
Erato cursed, threw another look at Demeter, now looking harried and trapped, and did what any star-crossed lover would.
The grand gesture.