88. Aunt Winnie
aunt winnie
Three weeks later—
“What if she doesn’t like me?” I murmur.
“Saevúra.” Sage cups my face between his palms, his thumbs brushing over my cheeks. “She’s knitted Vaelína more than thirty outfits. There is a candle on nearly every surface of our home, made specifically for you. I think it’s safe to say she likes you.”
“But that’s only because of what Damien, Lucifer, and Jack have told her.” I chew on my bottom lip. “I’m different in person.”
His smile softens. “You’re better in person.”
Damien scratches the back of his neck. “Just… give her a second.”
“A second?”
“She’s been excited about meeting you for months,” Damien admits.
Jack snorts. “So excited that she’s changed outfits four times.”
Lucifer sighs. “Five.”
“Leaving the house is… hard for her.” Damien’s expression softens. “The fact that she’s asking you to come over…” he glances at their front door. “... means you already matter.”
“Oh, I wonder if that’s what I was picking up. I have been terribly anxious the whole way here.”
“That would definitely be our Birdie.” Jack smirks.
“She’s been rehearsing what to say since last night,” Lucifer says.
Damien lets out a quiet breath. “I’m going to check on her. Sometimes she gets right to the door… and then forgets how to open it.”
Jack chuckles. “She remembers eventually.”
Damien steps toward the front door, favoring his bad leg. I hate the way he tries to hide how much it hurts.
Sage watches him go. “I’ve asked Therael if he knows of any healing salves for his leg.”
I squeeze his hand, a wave of gratitude washing over my nerves.
The front door clicks. It swings open a few inches… then stops. From inside the house, Damien’s deep, patient voice drifts through the opening. “You’re doing great, sweetheart. Just pull the handle. I’m right behind you.”
A tiny, frustrated huff slips through the crack. The door finally swings open.
Standing in the entryway, looking incredibly small beside Damien, is the cutest woman I’ve ever seen.
She’s wearing a sweatshirt that says let’s ghoul this, complete with a little ghost that looks riddled with anxiety.
Her pants are long with black-and-white stripes, and on her feet are the coziest-looking peach socks.
Her hair matches her pants—literally. One half is black as night, the other as white as Ashán’s bones. Her cheeks are flushed bright pink, and she’s clutching what appears to be every dessert in existence against her chest. Her wide blue eyes skip past Sage and Ashán, landing on me…
… then dropping immediately to the heavy swell of my belly.
“I… made you brownies… but then I thought, what if you don’t like brownies? What if you prefer lemon bars? But then I thought… what if lemons are too tart and you’re nauseous? So I made pecan cookies, but then I thought, what if she has a nut allergy? So I also made a strawberry shortcake.”
Damien’s large hand cups the back of her neck, and relief spreads across her face immediately. She leans into his touch, her shoulders dropping several inches.
“I love brownies.” I smile.
Winnie visibly brightens.
“And lemon bars.”
Her eyes get bigger.
“I really like pecan cookies.”
By now, Winnie’s lips are slightly ajar.
I grin. “I’ve actually been craving strawberry shortcake all week.”
She whips her head toward Damien, her eyes impossibly wide.
“Did you hear that?” she whispers. “She wants all of them. She even wants the shortcake, Damien.”
Damien’s chest rumbles with an affectionate chuckle, his thumb tracing soothing circles along the back of her neck. “I heard her, sweetheart. You did perfect.”
I’ve never seen him look so happy. He is so incredibly smitten with her.
“See?” Jack grins, “I told you, Birdie. Monster pregnancy is an elite force. There is no such thing as too many baked goods.”
“He’s not wrong,” I giggle. “Please tell me we can go inside and eat them immediately. If I have to smell that strawberry shortcake for another two minutes without a fork, I fear I may perish.”
She eagerly steps back, opening the door wide enough to invite the whole town.
“Yes! Come in, please. I cleared off the big table. I normally keep all my extra inventory there. I made sure to sew an extra cushion for one of the chairs because Lucifer said your back was hurting. I have five different kinds of tea—none of them have caffeine or anything that will upset Vaelína—”
“Magpie,” Damien murmurs, smiling as he squeezes the back of her neck.
She inhales deeply.
“You have to let them through the door first.”
“You really outdid yourself, mon petit oiseau,” Lucifer murmurs, effortlessly lifting the desserts from her trembling arms.
I step through the doorway and wrap my arms around her.
She goes perfectly still.
“... Hi,” I whisper.
After the smallest hesitation, her arms slip around me just as tightly.
“... Hi.”
“You smell like a bakery.”
She lets out a watery little laugh. “That’s because I practically am one.”
“You also smell a little like my favorite candle.”
Jack snorts. “Pretty sharp nose for a human. You’re right though, Winnie smells like plumeria and wine.”
Winnie ducks her head. “That’s the fragrance oil.”
“It is not the fragrance oil,” Jack retorts. “She has always—”
“Shall we eat, mesdames?” Lucifer interrupts.
I glance at Sage. He’s already watching me. Understanding, settling quietly between us.
I wonder how much of their story she’s still waiting to discover.
“Tea? Coffee? It’s decaf! Lemonade? Water? Oh—Eden, can pregnant women have hibiscus? Wait... maybe not.”
Damien scoops Winnie clear off the ground. “Honey. Sit.”
Winnie lets out a startled squeak as he hoists her into the air, her black-and-white hair swinging around her face before he sets her on the top of the table. He tips her chin with two fingers. “We’ll get the drinks. You sit and relax with Eden. Can you do that, Win?”
She nods once. “I… I can do that.”
“Good girl.” He presses a kiss to her forehead before sweeping her into a chair.
“Shá,” Ashán whispers. “If he called me good girl like that, I would sit wherever he wanted me to.”
“Ashán,” Sage sighs.
“What?”
I roll my eyes, biting back a laugh.
“Hear that, D?” Jack snickers as they disappear into the kitchen. “You’ve got yourself a new fan. Looks like the bone-daddy is coming for Winnie’s spot.”
“You exhaust me,” Sage mutters.
“I am everyone’s favorite.”
After I’ve finished sampling all four desserts—and the two others she had tucked away in the kitchen. Winnie slides off her chair.
She stops just inches from my side, her eyes fixated on my belly.
“She’s really active right now. She loved your desserts,” I whisper, reclining in the chair to give Winnie a better angle. “Go ahead. She won’t bite. Yet.”
Winnie glances up at me. “Are… are you sure?”
“I’d be upset if you didn’t.”
She hesitates, looking up at me for final confirmation. When I give her an encouraging nod, she gently presses her small, warm palms against the side of my sweater.
The whole room falls silent. Vaelína kicks right beneath Winnie’s left palm. She gasps, her lips parting as her eyes go round.
“Oh,” she breathes. “She’s so strong.”
I grin. “She’s saying hello, Aunt Winnie.”
“Aunt?!” Her bottom lip wobbles. “You mean it?”
Damien watches Winnie, hope and heartbreak warring across his stitched features. The moment she looks at him, he smooths them both away.
“Have you felt her yet?” she asks.
“No,” he murmurs. “My skin burns when I touch any female but you.”
“You can still feel her.”
He frowns. “How?”
Winnie reaches back with one hand, keeping the other against my belly, and takes his. She threads his fingers over hers. “Does it burn?”
“No.”
A moment later, Vaelína gives another strong kick.
Damien stills. “... I felt that.”
Winnie’s smile is so bright it could warm winter. “She said hello to you too.”