Chapter 21
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Would you still love me if I were a brunette?
Alister
So. It took this long for August to begin suspecting that I might be Ali Montgomery.
Seated with her outside a Pelican’s with a coffee snowcone, I do everything in my power not to gloat. Because that would be wrong. And probably cruel. And it would undoubtedly ruin all my efforts to keep her from being able to find proof about who I am thus far.
I guess I’ve not given it the most thought before, but now I’m certain I’m a bad, bad person.
It’s just a little too much fun to see schemes play out exactly the way I hope. Maybe it’s this same exact rush that breathes life into August when she’s writing. Maybe she thrives in this state of watching it all come together, too…
Still, who would have suspected that the faux appointments I’d planted in my work schedule would come to such obvious fruition like this.
Smiling to myself, I take in the lovely bright colors of the snowcone building in front of the umbrella-shaded table we’ve settled at, then I stick a spoonful of sweet ice in my mouth.
I feel like a mad genius. Once August and I are married and living happily ever after from one story to the next, I wonder if my life might always be full of such innocuous fun.
Dazed, August barely watches me as she nibbles through her Polar Punch ice. The vibrant blue food coloring has all but dyed her lips completely.
“What’s on your mind, lotus?” I murmur.
Her lashes flutter to awareness, and she fixes her attention on me as her plastic spoon hangs out of her mouth. She stares for a good few seconds. Then she says, “Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“Well…” Her gaze drifts again, then her nose wrinkles. “Ugh.” Flattening her hand, she blocks her face.
My interest piques, so I turn to find…a guy. A wavy-haired guy. Stepping out of a vehicle.
His pale locks catch in the sunlight, and I find my mirth subdued as I look between him…and August…who appears to want nothing to do with him. Which suggests that, at some point, she has had something to do with him.
Another man exits the vehicle, speaking animatedly as they both head toward the line in front of the order window.
August sinks in her seat, sighs, and stuffs a large spoonful in her blue-tinted mouth.
Deep unsettle rises in my gut. I ask, “Who’s that?”
“Jeffry,” she mutters.
“Who’s Jeffry—” An otherwise decent-looking blond. “—to you?”
August pins me with a disgusted look. “Oh, just because he’s blond, suddenly he’s something to me?”
“Probably more because you’re attempting to disappear into the ground, actually. But, sure, let’s focus on the blond part. You did dodge my question yesterday concerning whether or not you only like me for my looks.”
August gasps. “Are you jealous?”
I sniff, indignant, as I deliver a morsel of coffee ice to my mildly pouting lips. “I’ve been told that jealousy isn’t a great trait to have in real life. My author strictly prohibits me from feeling such a thing.”
She wiggles, adorably. “I love being your author.”
My heart swells. “I love being yours.”
“Are you jealous, though?” She licks her blue lips. “You’re allowed to have actual emotions beyond your character sheet, you know. I promise I won’t mind seeing the humanity beneath your vampirism.”
“I’m not sure if I’m jealous or not.”
Interest ignites, and she gives up on trying to hide in order to lean across the table, giddy. “You’re not sure?”
I eye her. “Is there a reason I should be jealous?”
“Well, if you trust me, no. We’re dating. So that means we’re exclusive.”
I arch a brow. “I trust you. So now you’re going to be a good girl and tell me why you’re trying to disappear, right?”
August flushes, red and yellow in the blazing sunlight. Eyes focused on me as though they’ve never focused on anyone else, she says, “He’s—”
“August?” Jeffry calls, and my expression hardens when my August straightens up and smiles big. He says, “I thought that was you.”
Despite her smile, she ignores him completely, fixing her attention on the other guy. “Hey, Sammy.” Her lashes flutter. “Quick question: would you be willing to kidnap me?”
My eye twitches.
Sammy tilts his head, swallows a bite of his snowcone, and says, “Sure. Why?”
“Oh, no reason in particular. Just a story I’m workshopping.”
Sammy laughs, like he has any right. “Sounds super cute. Yeah, no problem. Sign me up.”
My grip tightens around my plastic spoon.
In the business of ignoring important things at the moment, August pays my glare no mind.
Which gives Jeffry the opportunity to interject. “Who’s this?”
Opting for decency, I let my irritation melt away and offer my hand to Jeffry. “I’m Dominic, the man August is dating.”
Jeffy’s eyes bulge as he ignores my handshake. “Since…when?”
“Since at least three lifetimes ago,” August croons.
“Possibly more. I only recall the last two myself, but Dominic claims there’s at least one more that he refuses to tell me anything about.
I suspect it was harsh and heartbreaking, but soulmates always find their way through.
” Her hand reaches for mine, and draws it down against the table as her eyes take on a whimsical fantasy edge.
“I can handle it, darling. Please tell me the truth of our past.”
“Right…” Jeffry notes, holding back a grimace.
Sammy laughs. “Reincarnation and soulmates, huh? That’s cool. I’m behind on your books, but I’ll look forward to getting to that one.”
“Well…” Jeffry hedges, ushering Sammy away. “Nice meeting you. See you around, August.”
“Not if the ninjas get me first!” August declares, releasing my hand to shake her fist in the air while Jeffry retreats toward their vehicle, dragging Sammy along.
Once the engine’s started, I lean in. “I completely understand everything you did not tell me, and I apologize for ever toying with the idea of jealousy.”
She meets me in the middle of the table. “I know, right? Talk about a jerk in blond clothing.”
“I did like Sammy, though.”
She nods. “Oh, yeah. Sammy’s an angel. Real sweet.
Lowkey, highkey an alcoholic, unfortunately.
The boy’s been through it and makes bad decisions to handle the trauma.
” She shudders. “But Jeffry? Bleck. Something is majorly not okay with that man. Makes my skin crawl. I’m so glad Mirabelle didn’t wind up with him. ”
My brows rise. “Was that a risk? I mean. He’s just…” I can’t even put my finger on it. The abject shock behind the way he looked at me when I said I was in a relationship with August and the patronizing distaste in the way he dealt with her whimsical comments just leaves an awful taste in my mouth.
August says, “He’s liked her for years. He used to talk about her with his buds at Bear’s, and I’d overhear some pretty nasty garbage.
Nothing was explicitly gross, exactly, but when I tell you that guy does not do secret pining correctly, that guy does not do secret pining correctly.
Everything he said about her was just secretly about him instead?
” August snaps her fingers. “Selfish. That’s what it is.
He gives off an impression of violent selfishness.
He wanted Mira, and woe is him she didn’t fall into his lap.
Even though he never made a move to make it happen. He’s just lazy and selfish.”
“And judgmental.”
August lifts a shoulder. “That one’s to be expected. I’m a nutcase. Even very lovely people have a hard time with me.”
“You’re charming, and the way he looked at you was uncalled for.”
“Pretty sure he thinks I’m mentally unwell. In a slow kind of way. Possibly because I once heard him tell a tourist friend he was hanging with one summer not to mind her because she’s a little retarded.”
My temper snaps. “He what?”
“Yeah.” August smiles, but it’s a little worn.
“He’s one of those guys that’s not really got much in the way of character.
He’ll pick up whatever stuff surrounds him to fit in, which is valid enough.
People do that. But he doesn’t allow the idea that not everyone wants to do that.
Anything that doesn’t fit in this preconceived box of what he believes to be normal gets looked down on. ”
I stab my spoon into my snowcone. “That’s…a horrible way to live. If that’s how he is, though, I’m not sure how to ask this question correctly…”
“Why Mirabelle?” she intervenes.
“In essence, yes.”
“You didn’t meet her before she got married.
She was far more reserved even just a few months ago.
Very traditional housewife. Which is exactly the role a guy like Jeffry expects a woman to play.
” August rolls her eyes. “Seriously. Gives me the heebie-jeebies. If he had any kind of money, he’d be one of those disgusting entitled men who thinks everyone owes them something. ”
“Huh.”
“What?”
“Just thinking…”
Her eyes narrow. “About?”
“I’m glad you don’t fit in his gross boxes.”
She scans me. “Why?”
“Well now,” I murmur, dishing out a spoonful of ice and continuing around it, “he is blond.”
Dry, August stares at me. “Blond isn’t everything, Dominic.”
“Isn’t it?” I broach.
“Not at all. Do I really have to spell out I’m not that superficial for you?”
“So what you’re saying is if I showed up one day in a black wig…”
Perking, she stuffs a heaping helping of blue in her mouth. “Wigs aren’t a bad idea, actually. I gave your vampire character blond hair way longer than yours.” She shimmers in the sunlight. “Have you ever considered getting extensions?”
Sardonically, I murmur, “Never once.”
“Have you considered getting a black streak put in, perhaps? To convey that time you messed with dark magic and irrevocably ruined a section of your otherwise shining locks?”
That’s all news to me. “Dark magic sounds enticing. Maybe I’ll toy with it a great deal more.”
Aghast, she abandons her spoon in her cup of blue and plants her palm to her chest. “Are you trying to ruin all your pretty blond hair to spite me?”
I lift a shoulder, scoop up a bite of coffee ice, and hold it out across the table for her. “You’d still like me even if I did. Probably more if spite were involved.”
She presses her blue-tinted lips together and scoops a reciprocating bite. Holding her spoon out for me, she says, “Yeah, probably.”
Leaning forward to accept her offering, I let myself embrace the blast of blue, then I hum and eye her while she melts for me. “Be a good girl and tell me: how exactly does one get into the business of dark magic?”
She giggles. “You cannot good girl me like this.”
“Can’t I? It seemed like you liked it before.”
Her head shakes. “No. Nope. No idea what you’re talking about.”
Uh-huh. I’m just so sure. “Come now, love.”
Her face blisters as she fixes her attention back on me.
I lift my spoonful for her. “I can’t help but feel like you’re gatekeeping your knowledge on dark magic.”
“Well.” She stares at my coffee-flavored ice. “First, you need a tragic backstory, and no other options.”
“Check.”
She leans in, and I watch, captivated, as her lips fold around the plastic of my spoon.
She pulls back, swallowing, and says, “Then, you need to stumble upon a forbidden tome in an ancient library…” Her eyes glitter as universes spin in them, and by the time we’ve finished our shaved ice, I know I’ve fallen in love all over again.