Chapter 42
Skyla
The bonfire crackles and pops against the twilight canvas of Silent Cove, sending sparks dancing toward a sky painted in shades of gold and amber as the sun sets on another perfect Paragon day.
It’s been a week since the incident, and Logan and I are still recovering—still holding our children and each other extra tight.
The familiar scent of burning driftwood mingles with salt air and the lingering aroma of s’mores, while the gentle crash of waves creates a rhythm that’s infinitely better than any supernatural chaos we’ve endured lately.
Laughter echoes off the beach surrounding our little slice of paradise, and for the first time in what feels like forever, everything feels exactly as it should be.
I shift Jaxson to my other arm, marveling at how perfectly he still fits against my chest. His tiny fingers curl around the edge of my sweater while he sleeps, completely oblivious to the fact that his very existence is proof that we managed to outwit celestial forces and save our future.
Near the water’s edge, Eden races with Nathan and Barron, their shrieks of delight mixing with the calls of Holden and Serena as they circle overhead.
“This is perfect,” Em says from her spot on the driftwood log beside me. Her voice sounds wistful, and that always means she’s thinking about something bittersweet. “I wish Kate could be here to see it.”
My chest tightens at the mention of poor, sweet Kate, and I reach over to squeeze Brielle’s hand where she sits on my other side. “I wish she could, too. But I guess fate had other plans.”
Brielle’s fingers squeeze back, warm and reassuring. “She would have loved this. All of us together, the kids running around like a bunch of wild idiots, Drake and me expecting again—and you finally looking relaxed for once in your life.”
“Hey, I’ve been relaxed before.”
“You’re relaxed now,” Brielle corrects with a grin. “Five minutes ago, you were checking to make sure all the kids were accounted for. And you’ve been doing that every thirty seconds.”
“That’s called being a responsible parent.”
“That’s called being paranoid.”
“Good evening, ladies,” a familiar voice cuts through our conversation like velvet over steel, before I can defend my perfectly reasonable, rather paranoid parenting style.
I look up to see Marshall approaching with a wicked curve on his lips that makes him look like he’s stalking prey rather than joining a family gathering. His hair catches the firelight, and his eyes hold that familiar mix of charm and danger that should probably come with a warning label.
“Marshall,” I say carefully. “I’m so glad you could make it.”
“Wouldn’t miss it. After all, this is a celebration of new beginnings, is it not?” His eyes glitter with amusement as they settle on the children one by one. “And you do have such beautiful new beginnings to celebrate.”
“It’s a bonfire, Dudley,” Lexy snaps from a few feet away, where she’s sitting with Laken, Michelle, and Nat. “We’re roasting marshmallows, not hosting a philosophical TED talk.”
“Pity. I do so enjoy philosophical discussions.” Marshall lifts a brow my way. “Speaking of which, would you care to take a walk? I find the evening air quite stimulating.”
Logan appears before I can respond, his expression carrying that protective edge that always surfaces whenever the surly Sector is around. “I don’t think—”
“Stand down, Pretty One,” Marshall interrupts. “I’m simply requesting a brief constitutional with my future wife. Nothing untoward, I assure you.”
“Your future what?” Michelle spits out the drink she was sipping.
“It’s complicated,” I mutter, standing up and transferring Jaxson to Logan’s waiting arms. “And I would love to walk with you, Marshall. But if you try anything inappropriate, I’m feeding you to the tide pools.” I give him a cheeky wink with the quasi-threat.
“Such violent tendencies,” Marshall muses as we start down the shoreline. “Very attractive in a homicidal sort of way.”
The sand is cool beneath my feet, and the sound of the bonfire fades to a murmur behind us as we put some distance between the party and ourselves.
“So,” I say after several minutes of silence, “what’s this about? Because I know you didn’t pull me away from the bonfire just to discuss the weather.”
“Can’t a man simply enjoy the company of his betrothed without ulterior motives?”
“Not when that man is you. And we both know you’re no mere man.”
A rich laugh rumbles from him. “Fair point. Very well, I confess—I wanted to discuss our future.”
“Oh, Marshall.” I stop short and look up at him. “Logan and I just got settled. I don’t want to even think about yet another future, let alone talk about it.”
“I don’t want to talk about it either,” he says, boring those amber eyes into mine.
Before he can finish that thought, before I can come up with a suitably cutting response, Marshall steps closer and lands a kiss on my lips.
It’s not like the desperate, world-ending kiss from our latest light driving adventure; it’s something softer, more contemplative, like he’s making a point rather than trying to seduce me.
He pulls back, and I bite down on a smile.
“What was that for?”
“Consider it a promise,” he says with that infuriating grin. “Until next time, Mrs. Oliver.”
Mrs. Oliver?
And with that, he turns and walks back toward the bonfire, leaving me standing alone on the beach with my heart trying to beat its way out of my chest and my brain trying to process what just happened.
“Unbelievable,” I mutter, touching my lips where I can still feel the warmth of his kiss.
“Everything okay?” Laken’s voice makes me jump, and I turn to find her heading this way with a concerned expression that lets me know she witnessed the whole thing.
“Everything is fine. Marshall was just being Marshall,” I say as we start walking back toward the group. “Although I should probably mention that Logan and I went back and made a little correction that Demetri isn’t crazy about.”
Laken’s eyebrows shoot up. “What kind of correction?”
“The kind that prevented my mother from marrying a devil named Demetri and my stepfather from becoming a cruise ship nomad—among an entire litany of other things.” Namely the safety of Gage’s ambulatory state.
A laugh bubbles from her. “How did you manage that?”
“A federal crime may have had something to do with it,” I say with a touch of naughty pride. “It was very romantic, actually. You should try it sometime.”
“I’ll take a hard pass. I look terrible in orange.”
“You look good in everything,” I say, wrapping an arm around her. “Hey, I wonder what Demetri is doing right now?”
“Speaking of Demetri,” Wesley’s voice cuts into our conversation as he materializes beside us with Logan and Gage in tow, “don’t worry about my dear old dad. He may be down, but unfortunately, he’s never out.”
“Comforting,” Gage says dryly. “The man that’s bent on destroying our lives seems to have nine of them himself.”
“At least your father is predictably evil,” Logan points out. “Candace keeps switching between maternal concern and celestial manipulation.”
I nod. “It’s very confusing for those of us trying to maintain healthy family relationships.
” I shoot Logan a knowing look because nothing says healthy relationship like a little light driving, mail theft, and a little discipline in the butterfly room of yesteryear.
“I vote we all trek back to those glory days on the regular. Ellis really did throw the best parties. We could make it a yearly event.”
We share a quick laugh at the thought, and I feel that familiar warmth that comes from being surrounded by people who understand that our version of normal is slightly left of center.
“You know,” Wesley says, pulling Laken close, “most people’s biggest relationship problem is deciding whose turn it is to do the dishes. Skyla’s biggest problem is figuring out which husband gets to save her from cosmic annihilation on any given day.”
“Hey, I save myself plenty,” I protest.
“Usually by committing federal crimes,” Logan points out with a wink.
“Very resourceful,” Gage adds, pulling me close. “And very illegal.” He lands a kiss on my temple, and I lean my head against his shoulder. It all feels so natural, so very normal. “I’m just glad we survived Candace Messenger’s latest scheme.”
Logan nods. “And we survived Chloe Bishop’s villain era once again, too.”
The entire lot of us share a laugh at that one.
I look around at this ridiculous, beautiful, completely insane group of people who have somehow become my family, and something settles in my chest that feels dangerously close to peace.
We might have supernatural enemies plotting our downfall, celestial forces trying to manipulate our timeline, and at least three different versions of fate trying to rewrite our story for us, but we have each other, and most importantly, we have every one of our children safe and sound.
We also have love in all of its messy, complicated, completely impossible forms, and somehow that feels like enough to face whatever celestial catastrophe comes next.
Because when you’re part of a celestial family that spans heavenly realms and defies the laws of physics just to stay together, there’s no challenge too big, no enemy too powerful, and no future too uncertain to conquer as long as you’re willing to face it hand in hand.
Of course, our definition of hand in hand usually involves at least three people, but who’s counting?