17. Luca #2
Grayson places the cups on the side table instead of leaving the office. He doesn’t ask whether I need anything. He walks behind Maceo’s chair and bends to kiss the top of my head before resting one hand against the back of my neck.
“I need a minute,” I say, pressing my cheek to Maceo’s shoulder while my fingers gather in the front of his shirt.
Maceo adjusts my weight until my legs are fully supported and lowers his mouth to my hair. “Take it. We’re not going anywhere.”
I try to continue. Oliver is coming to Ember House tomorrow. Blossom only needs my approval on the revised intake schedule. The security changes are controlled. Alastair’s name is in Thane’s files now, and the next subpoena is already moving.
None of that stops my voice from shaking when I say that he stood inside my office.
Maceo’s palm moves slowly over my thigh while Grayson’s thumb traces the edge of my hairline.
I tell them Alastair looked at the renderings and asked about privacy, staffing, and resident control.
He behaved as though he admired everything we’d built while knowing exactly what Hearthstone had done to people who needed those protections.
The words begin catching against each other. I stop halfway through a sentence, draw a breath that doesn’t settle properly, and grip Maceo’s shirt more tightly.
“Let’s get you to your nest,” he says, lowering his mouth near my temple. “I think you’ll be more comfortable there.”
I nod against Maceo’s shoulder and point beneath the desk when Grayson looks toward the couch. “The desk one.”
Grayson’s laugh escapes before he can contain it.
He crouches beside the familiar opening and moves the storage basket that usually keeps the blankets contained.
Rosalie has rebuilt part of the nest since the last time I used it, lining the floor with three folded blankets and arranging stuffed animals into an uneven wall along the back.
“She told me it needed walls,” I say as Grayson straightens the nearest blanket.
Maceo shifts me higher against his chest before lowering us toward the floor. The dragon James carried around last week lies beside one of the pillows, explaining Rosalie’s recent request for extra cushions.
Grayson crawls beneath the desk first and settles against the side panel.
I follow him into the familiar space while Maceo comes in last, folding himself carefully around the lowest drawer until his knee fits beside mine.
Once we’re settled, Grayson opens one arm and draws me against his chest while Maceo lifts my legs across his lap.
The office looks different from beneath the desk.
The chair legs and scattered documents remain visible, but the room no longer feels as though it’s pressing down around me.
Grayson’s fingers move through my hair, and Maceo keeps one palm warm against my thigh while I find the middle of the sentence I lost.
“He stood right there and acted impressed.” I turn my face into Grayson’s shirt while Maceo’s thumb moves slowly over the inside of my knee. “He looked at the rooms and the resident-council plans. He knew what all of it was protecting them from.”
Maceo doesn’t tell me it doesn’t matter or that Alastair can’t hurt me. His arm tightens around my legs while he looks through the gap beneath the desk toward the abandoned chair. “Now we know what he was looking for, and he still doesn’t know we’ve identified him.”
Grayson catches my hand when I begin turning my ring again. He brings my fingers to his mouth and kisses the back of them before holding my palm against his chest. “Blossom only needs your answer about the revised intake schedule tomorrow. The rest of the security changes are already moving.”
“Oliver said the same thing about the wedding.” I feel Grayson’s heartbeat beneath my palm while Maceo’s mouth touches the side of my head. “He’s bringing me decisions one at a time.”
“Then everyone has finally agreed on a system,” Maceo says, his hand settling more firmly around my thigh. “You answer what’s directly in front of you. The rest stays with us until it’s ready.”
I lean across his chest and kiss him. It starts as a small touch against the corner of his mouth, but Maceo turns his face and catches me properly, one hand sliding beneath my jaw while Grayson keeps an arm wrapped around my waist. When I draw back, Grayson tips my chin toward him and kisses me more slowly, his thumb resting against my jaw.
“I hate that he saw it,” I say, resting between them again. “He didn’t deserve to stand there and look at what the residents made.”
Maceo’s glasses have shifted crookedly in the cramped space. I reach up to straighten them while he watches me. “He saw a building and tried to measure the access it gave him. He didn’t understand what he was looking at.”
Grayson keeps my hand pressed against his chest. “He saw the plans. He didn’t see the resident meetings that changed every one of them.”
My breathing steadies while their bodies remain pressed around mine.
Maceo’s knee is trapped beneath the drawer, Grayson’s shoulder is wedged against the side panel, and one of Rosalie’s stuffed animals keeps falling onto my leg whenever I move.
Neither of them suggests leaving for somewhere more comfortable.
I tell them about Oliver’s call, including Barty stealing the ribbon and Lorenzo shouting from the other room.
Grayson smooths my hair while he listens, and Maceo adjusts my legs when they begin to slide from his lap.
The wedding decisions no longer feel like another structure I’m failing to hold together.
Oliver has already taken them into his hands and promised to bring them back one at a time.
My phone vibrates against Maceo’s chest before we decide whether we’re ready to crawl out.
Oliver has sent a photograph of a six-tier white cake with silver roses climbing each side. A second image shows Rosalie’s drawing superimposed over the top tier, where a pink dragon spreads its wings above two tiny figures and what might be a castle.
Beneath the pictures, Oliver has written:
Rosalie says it needs a dragon. Yes or no?
I angle the screen so Grayson and Maceo can see it without dislodging any of us. Grayson studies Rosalie’s drawing while keeping his arm around me, and Maceo pushes his glasses back into place before leaning closer.
“How large is she expecting the dragon to be?” Grayson asks, tracing one finger above the drawing without touching the screen.
Maceo looks at the silver roses and then at the purple wings. “Oliver should reinforce the top tier before Rosalie decides it needs to move.”
Their practical concern for the structural integrity of a sugar dragon makes my mouth curve. I take the phone back before either of them can turn one decision into an engineering review and type my answer.
Yes.