Chapter 23 Whitney
Whitney
I’ve always hated flying.
The lines, the people, the noise. The hurry up and wait. It’s all the misery of a horse show without any of the fun parts. Plus, my ears never pop. Every single flight, I’m that idiot who’s yawning and pulling on my ear while chewing a full pack of gum.
And I still get a headache and can’t hear.
It usually pops an hour—or four—after I deplane.
I might have started dating Xolotl for his portalling ability alone.
The fact that he’s also the hottest, the baddest, and the strongest man I’ve ever met is just gravy.
Now he’s also rich, and gainfully employed with something I can brag about to my friends.
It’s not like I can tell them that he illegally harvests diamonds from random government-owned mines around the world.
But it has given me a job.
Turns out, with a little studying, I do a decent job selling his stones at diamond markets overseas, which he takes me to without any need to fill out customs forms or declare taxes.
Getting out of paying taxes might make me the happiest of all.
Is that bad? Well, I hear I’m half light and half dark, so I suppose that’s to be expected.
“Izzy’s going to love this present.” I’m carrying the box, because it’s not very heavy. “It’s so neat that we managed to have it made so fast.”
“It was your idea,” he says.
“But I found the girl who makes them.” Gabe trots along behind us, acting like the shadow I never wanted.
“I’m not adding your name to the gift,” I say again.
“Xolotl already did.” Gabe sounds so smug, I think about punching him.
“He did find the woman,” Xolotl says.
“She did such a good job. I wish it wasn’t in a box, and then I could look at it again.”
Gabe whips out his phone and flashes it in my face. “How well do I know you?” He takes the box. “Look at it as much as you want, and swipe left for more photos. I’ll go put it on the table.”
I sigh as he takes it, but I let him. And then I zoom in, admiring the rubies, the sapphires, and the sparkling diamonds we had set in a custom-made bridle, just for Izzy to put on Leonid when he shifts into his horse form.
It’s a stunning gift.
And it’s funny.
How often do you have a couple where one person literally bridles the other person and orders them around?
And could there be a less-manly bridle than one studded with a bunch of sparkly gemstones?
I feel like it’s a subtle reminder to Leonid that he may be running Russia, but my sister’s really the one running him.
The second we walk into the palace, Izzy hops up. “You made it!”
I jog toward her, and she starts running too. I haven’t seen her in almost a month now, and it sucks. I could portal over any time, but she’s always busy.
When she releases me, she scowls. “I’m mad, though.”
“Wait, about what?”
“I hear that Xolotl’s working for Aunt Helen.” Izzy shakes her head. “When you know how badly I need a translator. We’d double whatever they’re paying.”
“They use him like three or four hours a day,” I say. “You’d want him around the clock.”
Izzy huffs. “Fine, fine. Stay in the USA. Whatever.”
I laugh. “You’re the one who fell for a Russian dictator.”
“He’s not a dictator,” she hiss-whispers, as if anyone here cares what she says.
“A little bit, I am.” Leonid walks into the room, spreads his arms wide, and claps. “You really did it, transitioning from. . .” He clears his throat, smiling at my fiancé broadly. “Transitioning to American life perfectly.”
“Thanks,” Xolotl says. “It’s been interesting.”
“Life with the Brooks women always is.” Leonid’s grin is now more conspiratorial than anything else.
“I kind of hate how well they’re getting along,” I say.
“Me too.” Izzy frowns. “I don’t trust it.”
We’re rushed off to a state dinner after that, and whether he’s on the payroll or not, Xolotl’s stuck helping in at least three different disagreements, and he definitely does as much negotiating as he does translation. “You’re supposed to be enjoying yourself,” I say as he sits down again.
“This is fun,” he says. “I like to be useful.”
“Your boy likes to work hard,” Gabe says. “That’s why you should let me take him by Ekati, like we were talking about earlier.”
“No way,” I say. “Neither of you is leaving the wedding to harvest more diamonds.” I poke my finger at Gabe. “We refilled your account with more than three times the amount that you had in your college fund before. Stop asking.”
“You did that from the sale of one measly stone,” he hisses. “Come on. He said it was fine.”
I roll my eyes. “Xolotl always says yes to you, but guess what? He’s more afraid of me.”
Xolotl nods. “That’s true.”
Gabe mutters profanities under his breath, but I ignore them. Little brothers are the worst.
As if on cue, my youngest brother, Nathan, shoots through the dining room, an uninvited guest, as most of the state officials would have no idea what to say to a ten-year-old boy who only speaks English, and he’s holding a gun.
Only when he hits the trigger do I realize it’s a pellet gun.
Even so, the little Russian kid he’s found squeals when he’s hit.
“Nathan!” Izzy’s voice cuts through all the murmuring in the room. “Go to your room. Mom’s going to talk to you later.”
Nathan sneaks off, eyes downcast, his new friend in tow.
“I actually feel sorry for him,” Xolotl says. “Izzy, you, and your mom. Three mothers would be difficult.” He’s smiling, though. Sometimes I think he wishes he had a mother of his own. At least our mother has taken him under her wing.
That night, when the vodka starts flowing, I swear, the horse shifters are the worst and the rowdiest of all the people in the room. You’d never know it the next morning, though. I have a splitting headache, but when I show up for the actual ceremony, all the shifters look dewy and radiant.
“Why don’t you lot look half-dead, like I feel?” I ask Leonid on my way to the dressing room in the back where Izzy’s prepping. “I saw you drink at least twice as much as me.”
“Shifter metabolism.” He winks. “Looks like your death god has it, too.”
I follow his gaze to where Xolotl just walked in, wearing a tuxedo.
With his hair trimmed shorter, and his vibrant blue eyes, his chiseled jaw, and his faint beard-shadow, I nearly can’t breathe.
Men like him shouldn’t be allowed to wear tuxes.
I blow him a kiss, and then I beeline for Izzy’s dressing room.
If I stop now, I might not ever leave his side, and as the maid of honor, I have to go tell Izzy she looks great.
I’m sure she does. She always does, even if she hates makeup. She’s lucky that she doesn’t need it, with her classic beauty. Only, when I get inside, her face is swelled up like she recently took up boxing.
And she’s bad at it.
“What on earth happened?”
“Something stung me!” she says.
Or at least, I think that’s what she says. It sounds more like “Wumphing wung me!”
“This isn’t great,” I say. “I’ll get Alexei.”
It takes me almost five minutes, and I’m imagining her airway closing down the whole time, but I finally find Alexei, and I pry him away from his very possessive, very angry looking—but beautiful—wife. “I need help,” I say. “Right now. My sister was stung. . .on her face.” I grimace. “It’s bad.”
He jogs after me, and moments after he reaches the dressing room, Izzy’s face looks like it did before—beautiful as ever.
Of course, all her carefully-applied wedding-day makeup basically melted off with the swelling and subsequent healing process.
We’re frantically trying to reapply it when I hear a commotion outside.
“Let. Me. In.” Then there’s some kind of explosion sound.
Leonid strides through the door, looking around like we’re under attack. “I heard Izzy’s in danger.” His eyes are wild, his mouth twisted into something ugly.
“She’s fine.” I move to block her from his view. “She was under attack, but it was by a fuzzy, flying insect.”
“A bee,” Izzy chimes in from behind me. “But Alexei fixed it.”
“Why didn’t you get me?” Leonid bellows. “I have water powers. I could’ve healed her.”
“It’s bad luck for you to see her today, dummy!” I point at the door. “Now, get out.”
“I’m not superstitious,” Leonid says.
“Well, I’m a little stitious,” I say. “So just get out there, and you can see her in five minutes.”
He huffs, but he doesn’t blow me up, so that’s nice. I hope he didn’t do any permanent damage to the door, but I suppose that’s a problem for Russia to deal with.
True to my word, five minutes later, I’m walking Izzy over the pile of wooden shards that used to be a door, and then we’re headed to the back of the grand ballroom.
I have to stop her—twice—to pick shards out of her skirt where they hitched a ride, but then she looks ready.
As we finally reach the back of the wedding hall, I understand the bee.
The entire place is so full of flowers, I can barely breathe.
“Dude, no wonder you were attacked. There must be seven hundred bees in here.”
Izzy smiles. “It’s exactly what I wanted.” Then her eyes continue forward until they meet Leonid’s. She looks as happy and as content as I’ve ever seen her.
“I’m glad it is,” I say. “I’m going to pass you off here.”
Steve’s standing ready. “I’m sorry it’s just me,” he whispers.
“You’re the best dad I could imagine,” Izzy says. “I’m sure my heavenly dad is glad you’re here.” She beams at our stepfather, and then they’re both moving down the aisle.
I sprint my way up the side aisle and circle around to my spot next to Leonid. “See? I got her here safe and lovely, as promised.”
“Thank you,” he says. “Sorry for overreacting.”
“You keep doing that whenever my sister’s involved, and I’ll keep liking you.”
“But not loving him,” Xolotl says, a few feet away, standing by the groomsmen. “Because she only loves me.”
Leonid laughs. “You two are more embarrassing than me and Izzy.”
“Doubtful,” I say. “Really, highly doubtful.”
“When’s your wedding?” Leonid asks.