Chapter 21 Liar #3
“Ah. Religion definitely has its perks. We’ll go to church, have at least fifteen children, and twice that number of dogs and cats, with some birds thrown in for good measure, and then you certainly won’t have time for an affair.”
I snorted. “Well put it that way and it sounds entirely reasonable. You can’t actually think that I’d want someone else when I could have you. It’s not logical. You were the one who stayed with me through all the awful, miserable, incredibly unattractive times.”
“There wasn’t a moment with you that wasn’t beautiful. And he would have spent all the time creepily staring at you if Flowers allowed it.”
I elbowed him. He oomphed even though I didn’t make a dent in his muscles. “Why are you trying to sell me on someone else? Did the idea of kids make you want to run out into the desert without a canteen? Spoiler alert. I’m coming with you. Forever. Sickness, health, dehydration and so on.”
He sighed heavily, brushing his lips over my hair. “Kids do freak me out quite a bit, but not as bad as virgins, and we see how well you conquered that fear. Still, the House of Beasts isn’t a good place for children.”
“You want to actually live there?”
“No. I don’t want anything to do with them, but…”
My stomach twisted. “You inherited them after I killed your mother.”
He led me to a stump and helped me sit down like I was still delicate and dying.
His eyes were soft, concerned. “Flowers killed your mother. Don’t blame yourself for that situation.
You aren’t guilty of anything but being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
” He said that loud, firm, like he needed anyone in the shadows listening to know exactly what had happened.
Ah. Right. His beasts needed his wife to not have murdered the Crocodile.
I guess I’d keep that truth to myself. Forever.
Cue dramatic music, or Jezabel’s harmonica, but same difference.
“Here’s the ukulele,” Pinkie said, holding out the yellow instrument.
“You only know the one chord progression, but we don’t have time to teach you more.
You’ll do Low Rider and then snuggle with Nix behind his guitar.
You’ll look adorable and make Nix more accessible, more family guy, which his reputation could certainly use.
Then it’s bed time for both of you. In separate tents.
We have a long day tomorrow.” She flashed a mean smile at Nix.
“Being married during the Three-Hundred is like not being married. It’s so fun. ”
He snorted and took his guitar out and settled down on the stump beside me. “Revenge is a dish best served cold, but if my Kitten gets cold…”
“We’ll keep her warm,” Jezebel said, putting an arm over my shoulder and shooting me a wink.
I giggled while Nix glowered at her then stated, “You aren’t keeping my wife warm. First of all, you’re too cold-blooded for that sort of accommodation, and second of all, no.”
“Heating pads,” Trixie said, shaking her head at her boss, like he was her amusing brother. “Jezebel doesn’t sleep with people. She’d end up shooting someone, probably herself. Now, let’s play music before I forget everything Pinkie taught me.”
She sat down and started strumming, her whole body keeping time like that was the only way she could get it all to work.
“Why do you like Low Rider?” I whispered to Nix. Not that we needed words, but I liked his voice, and I liked his thoughts, and it seemed like he’d be more a Rocky Theme guy with all the punching he did.
His lips twitched in a smile. “Cowbells are so cool. They’re like the hammock of the music world.”
“Ah. It all comes back to hammocks. As all things should. We’re hanging one from the living room the second the Three-Hundred is over.
He flashed the prettiest smile at me, and then started strumming, matching Trixie’s rhythm, only making it slightly more musical.
I focused on my ukulele and let that feeling of belonging, warmth, stability, soak into me along with the fire. I was going to live in this world for a lot longer than I’d ever dreamed, and it was so beautiful.
Pinkie’s cello came in, carrying the melody and suddenly it was even more perfect.
Dirk’s banjo played a harmony, complimenting the cello’s tone.
It was magical, sweet, and absolutely perfect.
And then the song was over and Nix stole my ukulele and pulled me onto his lap, putting the guitar over me, locking me in.
He kissed my shoulder and breathed me in for a second.
“I like you so much more than Low Rider.”
“I like you more than hammocks,” I whispered, kissed his cheek and then turned sideways so I could snuggle against his chest while he played. The beating of his heart beneath my cheek was even better than the music. It would go on and on, forever, and ever and ever…
I didn’t hurt. Not one singular drop of pain in my entire body. I couldn’t get over it. Not only no pain, I felt so good, where his superior heat was soaking into me, cool where the evening breeze was brushing my cheeks, and happy, because I was included in this world I never dreamed was possible.
And somewhere in the darkness there was a skate park. I was actually going to be part of his games. And Dirk had planned it like he knew I was going to live. I beamed at him, and he gave me a slight nod back while his fingers raced over the banjo strings.
Jezebel was also watching me while she played her harmonica, like she wasn’t sure we could trust the cure, or if I might be the bomb about to explode and kill everyone.
Trixie was frowning down at her hands while she strummed, focusing as hard as she could on getting it right so she didn’t disappoint her friends.
Everyone was here, together, caring so much.
“You should sing the next one,” Pinkie said, giving me a slight smile as she drew her bow over her strings.
“I’m not a great singer.”
Nix chuckled. “Maybe you could dance it.”
Then I really heard the tune Pinkie was playing.
I’d never thought that ‘Twistin’ the Night Away’ could be so elegant.
One of my dad’s favorite songs. My daddy who had died trying to find my cure.
Who had kept me hidden from Flowers. My chest ached remembering.
But now I had a new daddy. Could I love both of them?
Was I betraying the guy who had sacrificed everything to try to keep me alive?
Seize the moment. That’s what he’d say. Live like you’re never going to die.
Embrace love like my mom did. He never mentioned that she conceived me out of hate for Nix’s mama.
The song faded into the night and I sniffed and wiped a tear away while Nix held me close.
“Are you okay, sweetheart?” he murmured.
I sniffed and turned to look at my handsome husband, with his intent blue eyes and golden skin. “I shouldn’t be sad about my dad when I’m cured. I shouldn’t ever be sad again.”
He gave me a soft smile and brushed my hair away from my face, tucking it behind my ear. “That’s not living, Kitten. You get to have all the emotions, and there’s no should about it. Be as sad as you want. Anytime you like. Life is all the feelings and you earned them.”
I pinched his nose. “Not that feelings are real.”
He full-out grinned. “Which is why I can’t feel my legs.
I hate to admit it, but Pinkie’s right. I won’t get any sleep tonight if I have you in my arms. And neither would you.
If you’re really going to be on a board doing all sorts of death-defying nonsense, you are absolutely getting a good night’s rest. Although I’m not sure throwing you out there so soon after your convalescence is a sensible course to… ”
I kissed him, cutting off the words. Mm. He tasted so good, and felt so good, and…I pulled back before I lost my mind completely. “I’m doing it. I’m going to be part of your team if Beastie is.”
He raised a brow. “Now you’re jealous of him?
” He put his guitar to the side and stood, offering his arm.
“Well, we can’t have that. You are my team.
All of it. Every drop of my love and focus is on you.
But of course that means I need to take care of other things that lead to your happiness and well-being.
Such as seeing you to your tent for the night.
” We walked towards a happy yellow tent, and then with a zip, the door was open for me.
Inside was the cutest little bed, the sleeping bag all yellow smiley faces on a white background, with heated blankets stacked on the side.
There was a little table next to the air mattress with a steaming cup of herbal tea.
It smelled like what my aunt made to help me fall asleep sometimes.
What about my Aunt Willie? I’d have to talk to her about everything at some point. Not that she’d ever give me a straight answer.
“And now I’ll leave you here. Sweet dreams, Kitten.
I’ll dream of you.” His eyes were so intent, and that bed behind me looked positively tempting.
He pressed a hard kiss to my forehead that should have left me bruised, but that was the old me.
The new me loved every particle of pressure.
With another intent look, he turned and stepped out, zipping me in and leaving me to sink into heaven without him.