CHAPTER FIFTEEN
MORIA
The fourth week they were all supposed to meet up, David sent over a brief note to Moira’s cell, obviously dictated with speech-to-text, apologizing for having to work through the weekend. Apparently, the judge was incompetent, and his co-council was intransigent.
“David cancelled,” Moira said, not looking up from her gala dress, which she was expertly hemming at the kitchen table.
“Looks like it’s just you and me today, kid,” Rhys said, pulling a tray of freshly baked brioche out of the oven. He was a decent cook, but he could probably sweep the bread week of any season of Bake Off.
“I assume you’re gonna want some time in your study to cross reference that demonic name?”
“I actually thought you and I could spend today together,” he said, deftly halving a bun and slathering it with butter and raspberry jam, just like she liked. “Maybe get out of the house.”
Moira opened her mouth with a mischievous gleam in her eye and Rhys fed her a bite, then let her suck a spot of jam off his thumb.
“Well if we’re going anywhere, I’m going to need a shower,” she said. “Care to join me?”
“I was hoping you would say something like that.”
Half an hour later, Moira was freshly showered, liberally perfumed, and well-pleasured by Rhys’s deft fingers. She hummed to herself as she pinned her favorite bamboo doorknocker earrings in place and shimmied into a matching linen crop top and culottes set that flattered her midsize frame. She had put on weight since living off goldfish crackers and the cafeteria’s free iced tea (never sweet enough) in college, but she loved the body she lived in, and so did Rhys, so she didn’t mind. Rhys actually opted for some color, for once in his life, and paired his dark chinos with a pale green shirt that complemented her outfit. Walking on his arm out to the car, Moira felt desirable and spoiled for love and otherwise invincible.
They brought a picnic lunch out to the banks of the Charles, and Rhys painstakingly arranged the brioche buns and dried apricots and Babybel cheese wheels on the blanket so that Moira could take an aesthetic photo for her Instagram page. She snapped one of Rhys when he wasn’t looking, because he was just too handsome in his sunglasses and tousled hair, and she snuck it in at the end of her social media carousel.
After their miniature feast, Moira reclined with her head in his lap and drowsily listened to the sounds of children playing in the distance. Rhys alternated between trailing his fingers along her bare shoulders and dropping kisses to her forehead.
It was, in a word, perfect.
“I love this,” she said, rubbing a dandelion stem between her fingers. “Quiet time with you.”
“I love it too,” he said, giving her a lingering kiss on her mouth. “I’m sorry I’ve been so busy lately. I just get so caught up in what I’m doing, and I lose track of time.”
“It’s okay.”
“It’s not okay,” he said, guiding her chin up gently so he could look her in the eye. “You’re the sun in my sky, Moira. You should always come first. Work, research, the Society… it should all be secondary.”
She could tell from the tight way he was holding his jaw that he was more upset by his actions than his words suggested. She pushed up onto her elbows and cocked her head at him. “Sometimes life gets in the way. Lord knows I can get swept up with my clients and you don’t see me for the whole day. But I appreciate being prioritized, as much as you can.”
A question tingled on the tip of her tongue. Another day, when she was less sure of herself, she might not have asked. But she felt safe and secure, in this moment, so she posed it. “I talked to Kitty last week. She seemed to think there might be something going on between you and David.”
Rhys blanched. “Something romantic?”
“That seemed to be her idea.”
“Love, you don’t believe that, do you? Whatever lies between David and I is strictly professional.”
“Come on. I’m not accusing you of cheating, but even you can’t really believe that.”
“What do you mean?”
“David is a force of nature. He’s got a way with people, and he’s charming, for better or worse. He’s… compelling.”
“Don’t tell me you’ve got a crush,” Rhys said with a wry smile, but there was a touch of panic underneath the expression.
Moira arched an eyebrow, unable to resist batting her husband around like a cat with a mouse, just a little bit. “Would that make you jealous? Imagining me with him?”
“Of course,” Rhys blustered, but Moira knew her husband well enough to know that he also found something about the image enticing. “But that’s never going to happen. We’re married, and David only dates men. As far as I know, anyway.”
“I’m only pulling your leg, sugar.”
“Right,” Rhys said, but his shoulders sagged in relief. Moira was tempted to press on that relief a little, to worry at it like a loose tooth, but she resisted the urge. One step at a time. “There might be some lingering… energy there, I won’t lie to you. But I remember what dating David was like. Unless he becomes a different person overnight, I don’t want anything to do with that. And moreover, I would never do anything to jeopardize what we have.”
“But you’re allowed to have friends. You know that, right?”
Rhys harrumphed. “I’ve got you and I’ve got my Society brothers. Who needs more friends than that?”
“Don’t be prickly. I’d love to see you let yourself have a little more fun, sometimes. There’s more to life than research papers and summoning circles.”
“You’re probably right.”
She reached out and squeezed his hand. She couldn’t read him as well as she could read David; Rhys was a fogged mirror, where David was a plane of clear industrial glass. But she could feel the love he had for her, emanating from him like his favorite cologne.
“Speaking of David,” he said, clearing his throat. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you too.”
“Go ahead.”
“These sessions the two of you are doing… Do you think they’re really helping? I’m protective of you, Moira. I know David can be a lot to deal with, and I don’t want him crawling around in your head unless you’re sure this is good for you. Say the word, and I’ll call this whole thing off. Your health and safety come first. I’m serious.”
Moira reached up to brush a stray wisp of pollen out of Rhys’s hair. All around them, joggers and cyclists made use of the footpaths, taking in the dazzling way the light reflected off the water.
“I can take care of myself, baby. And yes, I think the sessions are helping. My intuition is getting stronger, but it’s also getting easier to control. Besides, David isn’t so bad, once you dig under all the posturing. Some days, I almost like him.”
Rhys’s eyebrows shot up. “No way I just heard you say that.”
“I’m a woman of mystery,” she said, settling back down against his lap. “You never know what I’m gonna do.”
“And if you reach a point where you can totally block everything out, will you choose to walk away from that part of yourself?”
A single cloud passed across the sun overhead, shadowing Moira’s face. She gnawed on the inside of her mouth until she tasted iron. A good person wouldn’t be tempted by the promise of power. A good person wouldn’t spend hours turning a possible version of themselves over in their head, a version who was influential, respected, maybe even a little feared. A good person wouldn’t be propelled forward by such reckless curiosity, a bottomless appetite to know.
Maybe Kitty had been right. Maybe, when you got right down to it, Moira wasn’t as good a person as everyone thought.
“Well. Sometimes I don’t know what I’m gonna do either,” said Moria.
Rhys, God bless him, left it at that. He just held her and watched the ducks on the Charles paddle by, and that, in its tender simplicity, was enough.