Chapter 11
Effie put off seeing Finn again until the last possible moment, returning to the bar the next evening, right before it closed.
She passed a few stragglers making their way out the door, their cheeks flushed and eyes bright, and slipped inside. Instantly, her eyes found Finn standing behind the bar, the sleeves of his olive-green sweater rucked up to his elbows, talking to the only remaining patron.
The girl was pretty, with glossy golden hair tumbling around her shoulders in big, bouncy waves that framed her heart-shaped face, her chestnut eyes sparkling as she leaned her delicate chin on her hand and smiled up at Finn.
She was wearing a cream-colored cardigan embroidered with big bubblegum-pink hearts over a simple cotton dress.
The cardigan was at least two sizes too big, dwarfing her petite frame, the sleeves kissing the tips of her fingers, fingers that reached out and slowly caressed the hand Finn had resting on the bar.
Effie’s eyes narrowed, her hair lifting off the back of her neck, crackling with magic. If this girl knew what was good for her, she’d take her hand off—
“Effie. Hey.”
At the sound of her name, she took a deep breath.
Finn had spotted her hovering inside the door and was watching her now, looking at her like…Well, she’d almost say he looked relieved to see her, but that couldn’t be right. She could have sworn his eyes brightened, but no doubt that was a trick of the light.
“Hi.” She scuffed her toe against the wooden floor. “If you’re busy, I can come back—”
“No, stay,” the blonde said, rising to her feet. “I was about to head out anyway.”
Finn looked between them. “Daisy, this is Effie. Effie, Daisy.”
Daisy.
It took her a second to place the name, to remember why it sounded so familiar.
“You’re Avaline’s daughter.”
The good girl who Finn apparently got on very well with.
Effie loathed her.
It wasn’t personal. No, no. It was…professional.
As an agent of darkness and all things unholy, Effie simply couldn’t, in good conscience, put up with, let alone willingly associate with, anyone so…
so twee. It had nothing to do with the way Daisy was looking at Finn like he was a Happy Meal and she was hungry for a free toy.
With the fact that she had touched him. No. Definitely not.
Daisy smiled, the apples of her cheeks perfectly round and rosy. “And you’re—”
“Finn’s wife?” Effie stepped up to the bar. “Sure am.”
Daisy’s smile dimmed and Effie felt oddly victorious. “Right. It was nice meeting you.” She slipped the strap of her purse over her shoulder. “Finn? Let me know if you want me to—”
“Will do.” He reached back, hand gripping the back of his neck the way he did when he was uneasy.
Not that she knew him well enough to know his tells, only that she imagined they weren’t so different now than they were before.
“Thanks, Daze. Uh.” He looked at Effie. “Hold on just a sec. I’m just going to walk Daisy to her car. ”
“I’m fine, Finn,” Daisy said, heading for the door. “Don’t worry about it.”
Finn stepped out from behind the counter. “It’s dark out.”
“And?” Daisy rolled her eyes, the sound of her laughter like tinkling wind chimes. Effie hated wind chimes. They were downright annoying. Disruptive, too. “It’s Silver Springs. And my car’s around the corner, not even a block away. Stay. Have a good night.”
Effie waited, listening for the sound of the door. Once it was shut and Daisy gone, she said, “She seems…sweet.”
Finn stared down at her, eyes roving over her face, his own expression inscrutable. “I didn’t think you were coming.”
No shit. She turned, hiding her eye roll, and wandered over to the pool table. Whoever had played last hadn’t racked the balls and had instead left them sitting in the pockets. She fished one out from the right corner pocket, the three ball, and rolled it gently against the felt.
“We had a deal,” she said, and contrary to whatever he thought, her word did actually mean something. “She didn’t have to leave, you know. Daisy.” She peered at him over her shoulder. “I could’ve come back some other time if you wanted to keep talking or…you know.” She swallowed hard. “Whatever.”
The corner of his mouth twitched before he pressed his lips into a flat line. “I meant to ask yesterday—what does your fiancé think about all this?”
“My—oh. Belphegor?” She shrugged. “He doesn’t know, actually.”
Finn’s brows drew together in a frown. “Belphegor? What the hell kind of name is— You know what? Never mind. Don’t you think this is something your fiancé ought to know about?”
“Why?” She rolled the ball against the table, where it hit the cushion and rebounded, spinning out across the felt toward her. “We haven’t been together that long. He knows I had a past before I met him.”
“Suuure.” He drew out the word, walking slowly across the room toward her, stopping on the other side of the pool table. “But your past also happens to be sort of your…present.”
She pursed her lips. “Why does he need to know that I was married as long as I’m not when it matters?”
This was her problem, not his.
“I don’t know. For transparency?” Finn started racking the balls. “You game?”
She shrugged and rolled him the three ball. “I’m a little rusty, but sure, why not? You can break.”
Together, they finished setting up, retrieving balls and cue sticks. As agreed, Finn broke, sending the balls scattering, and a solid dropped into the side pocket.
“If Belphegor”—Finn said his name as if there were scare quotes around it—“doesn’t know about me, where does he think you are right now?”
“I told him there was an issue with a contract I needed to deal with. Which is true. Technically.”
“Four ball, corner pocket. You don’t think he’d like to know that the woman he’s marrying is spending two weeks with her husband?”
“Not-quite-ex-husband,” she corrected. “And Belphegor won’t care.”
“No?” He looked up from where he was lining up his shot. “You sure about that?”
“As a matter of fact, yes,” she said, propping her hip against the table. “We have an understanding.”
“Meaning?”
She hadn’t really wanted to get into the specifics with him, but— “If you must know, Belphegor and I have always had an open relationship.”
Finn scratched, striking the surface of the table with the cue’s tip. He straightened and looked at her, his face carefully blank. “And whose idea was that?”
“Mine, technically.”
While it wasn’t unheard of for demons to be in monogamous relationships, it was uncommon.
Some chose to, for whatever reason, but most did not.
When they’d started seeing each other with regularity, around the time Belphegor had cleared out a drawer for her, he’d asked whether that was something she was interested in, a sexually exclusive relationship, and she’d made it clear that it wasn’t.
Since he didn’t want one, either, the decision to keep their relationship open had been simple.
If part of her aversion to monogamy had been a reluctance to let Belphegor in and avoid intimacy…that was her business.
He frowned. “Huh.”
“What?”
“Nothing,” he said, shaking his head.
“Your eyebrows are telling me a different story.”
He blew out a ragged breath. “I’m trying not to say anything insensitive.”
“Oh, spare me.” She rolled her eyes. “Demon, remember? You’re not going to offend me.”
“All right. It’s not my cup of tea, but I’m not here to judge what makes anyone happy as long as it’s, you know, consensual.
” The crests of his cheeks darkened, turning an endearing shade of pink.
“I guess I’m wondering if you’ve always wanted—if you’ve always been…
you know.” He made a vague gesture with his hand that didn’t indicate much more than his discomfort. “Polyamorous?”
“I’m not— I wouldn’t call it that,” she said, shifting on her feet.
“I don’t have any desire to have multiple emotional or romantic relationships.
I don’t have a desire to have any romantic relationships.
” Not anymore. That ship had sailed a long time ago.
Effie was in romantic retirement. And even if she wasn’t—“Demons don’t do romance. ”
“You’re engaged.”
It was sweet how he thought that meant something.
“Belphegor didn’t propose because he loves me.
He proposed because we make a good match.
And demons love power. Though the stunt I pulled might have angered Lucifer, I’ve been told some demons believe what I did was…
admirable. It’s not a love match, but it’s not really any different from why people used to wed.
Why some people still do. It’s why you and I married. ”
“That was different,” he argued. “You and I fell in love.”
“After we were married. And that’s not going to happen with Belphegor. I told you, I have no desire for a romantic relationship.”
He stared at her, eyes glinting under the canister lights, his strong jaw set stubbornly. “You did once.”
“I was human then. Now I’m not. My soul is gone,” she said. “Demons can lust, and we can covet and have a fondness for one another, but love…To love is human.”
He hummed, fingers drumming against his cue stick. “What about To love is to suffer and there can be no love otherwise?”
Love was suffering, but it didn’t explain why Finn was quoting Dostoyevsky to her. “You know, you don’t exactly fit the profile for someone well read in Russian literature.”
He grimaced. “I’m a bartender living in a small town, so I’m not supposed to know things?”
“Oh, don’t be ridiculous. Of course that’s not what I’m saying. I didn’t take you as a glutton for punishment, that’s why.”