Riven straightens with pride. “Yes. My silk has unique properties that make it ideal for artistic applications.”
“She showed me that sweater you made her last week. Fine work.” Dad nods approvingly. “Always thought those spider web patterns were pretty, even when I was swatting them down from the warehouse corners.”
“Many humans share your contradictory appreciation and destruction pattern,” Riven observes.
Dad laughs. “Guess we’re complicated that way.”
As they talk, I feel a wave of affection watching the two most important men in my life finding common ground. Then Riven shifts, and one of his legs knocks over a glass of water.He freezes, mandibles clamping shut in mortification as water spreads across the table.
“I’ve damaged your dining surface,” he says stiffly. “I will provide compensation for—”
Dad waves him off with a laugh. “Hell, I do that all the time and I’ve only got two legs. You’re doing fine, son.”
Son. The casual word nearly breaks Riven’s carefully maintained composure. I can see his mandibles quivering slightly with emotion.
I grab a dish towel and mop up the spill, squeezing one of Riven’s legs reassuringly under the table as I do.
After dinner, as Dad serves coffee, I take a deep breath and reach for Riven’s hand.
“Dad, there’s something I wanted to tell you officially.” I glance at Riven, who gives me an encouraging nod. “I’m moving in with Riven permanently.”
Dad doesn’t look surprised; he’s clearly suspected as much. He sets down his coffee cup and studies me carefully.
“You sure about this, Junebug? It’s a big step.”
“Yes,” I say without hesitation. “Absolutely.”
Dad looks at Riven, his expression unreadable. “And you? What are your intentions toward my daughter?”
Before I can object to the old-fashioned question, Riven speaks up, his voice formal and sincere.
“I intend to treasure her for the remainder of our natural lives,” he says simply. “And further, I would like to invest in the family business of Hartwell Delivery.”
This catches both me and Dad off guard.
“Come again?” Dad says.
“Your business is essential to this community,” Riven explains. “I want to help it grow. Specifically, I would like to fund the hiring of an assistant driver so you aren’t overburdened and June has backup on difficult routes.”
Dad is quiet for a moment, clearly emotional. Then he grumbles, “Damn charity,” but his eyes are wet, and his voice rough when he adds, “Thank you.” He then mumbles something about having something in his eye, and excuses himself to the kitchen.
I lean into Riven’s side. “He likes you,” I whisper.
“How can you tell?” Riven asks, mandibles twitching nervously.
“He called you ‘son.’ And he didn’t even flinch when you mentioned investing in the business.” I stroke the smooth skin of his arm. “That’s practically a ringing endorsement.”
All eight of Riven’s legs twitch with barely contained relief. “Human family integration protocols are excessively stressful.”
“You did great,” I assure him.
Dad returns from the kitchen with suspicious redness around his eyes that we all politely ignore.
“So,” he says gruffly, “when’s moving day?”
And just like that, it’s settled. I’m officially moving in with my monster boyfriend, with my father’s blessing and a business partnership to boot.
The only thing left to do is start packing and prepare for a lifetime of life with my most amazingly complicated, eight-legged man.
