Temperance puts up a hand, silencing me with a look.
“I’m not accusing you of anything. Feelings don’t just vanish because you want them to. For some, it’s a process. An ugly journey.” She pauses, eyes flicking over my face, assessing. “But you said he married you.” She leans further back, takes a sip, eyes glinting over the rim of her glass. “You might want to take care of that.”
Well, that’s a punch back to reality. “Shit,” I whisper, a little horrified. “I just realized I need to file for divorce. Why the fuck didn’t I think of that until now?”
She just shrugs, a small smile creeping onto her lips. “You had other shit to deal with. Take it one step at a time.”
“I’m coming in!” A voice — bright and unapologetically loud — cuts through the air, echoing from the back door.
Layla steps inside, eyes landing on us with something akin to desperation.
“I’m really sorry to interrupt, but I really,reallyneed a bite of that cherry pie Ria brought over,” she says, one hand cradling her swollen belly. Her other hand rubs over the curve in slow circles. “The baby demands it. Otherwise, it’ll keep kicking my liver into oblivion.”
I swear, this woman exudes confidence with every wobbly step she takes. I remember Ghost mentioning her over a decade ago, but I never got to meet her.
I stand, the chair scraping against the floor. “Take a seat. I’ll get it for you.”
She waves me off casually. “No, no, I’m fine. I can get it. I just can’t sit in these chairs Temperance has. They’re like torture devices. Pretty, but I’m fucking sure they were designed to snap spinal cords.”
Temperance rolls her eyes, scoffing loudly. “You’re just too fucking pregnant,” she fires back, but there’s no real heat to it.
Layla chuckles and waddles over to the counter where the pie sits. Before she even takes two steps, Griffin materializes behind her out of thin air. Eyes scanning the room.
“I heard we were given free access to the pie,” he says, stepping fully into the kitchen.
He jerks a thumb over his shoulder, toward the backyard. “Ria passed out, by the way. I guess she decided to single-handedly tackle that entire bottle of wine we brought.”
A muffled yell erupts from outside. “Shut up, Kitten! I’m not a lightweight! And I’m not asleep!” It’s a half-mumbled, half-roared indignant sound.
Everyone bursts into laughter.
I feel lighter than I’ve felt in a long time. These people — I like them. I like them too much. I’ve never met others like them. Understanding. Funny. Impossibly kind. Everything in my life always hung by a thread. Ready to fall into the pits of hell at any moment. Even this last year with Ghost. I dared hope, sure. But there was always an unspoken warning clinging to the back of my mind. I just stupidly chose to ignore it.
“Here,” Layla says, interrupting my thoughts as she shoves a plate into my hands. A tiny slice of cherry pie sits on it, smothered in cream.
“Everyone gets a piece. I get the rest.” She flashes a wicked grin, the kind that dares anyone to argue.
Griffin groans dramatically, dropping into a chair with a huff.
“I’m getting crumbs again, aren’t I?” he mutters dejectedly.
I sit back down, still clutching my plate, watching Layla practically levitate to the table with her own piece. Her hand absently strokes her belly, fingers splayed wide, protective.
“Do you know what you’re having?” I ask, nodding toward her stomach.
Her smile softens, eyes going distant for just a second. Then she looks back at me.
“A little girl,” she whispers, voice threaded with awe, like she can’t quite believe it herself.
I burned my favorite book.Sugar and Ash— both volumes — were swallowed by flames in Temperance’s backyard, during a mock funeral held for whatever was between Ghost and me.
That’s when I felt a real shift in my life, like I wasn’t standing on quicksand anymore, but on solid ground.
It’s been months since I left that hospital bed, broken and pieced back together with nothing but the bare minimum of hope. The bad days don’t come as often now. They used to be relentless, nipping at my heels almost every fucking morning like rabid dogs. Now it’s just once every few weeks, which is manageable.
I’ve been busy, though. Distracted. Griffin’s place was perfect for my little bookstore, like fate wanted me to stumble into it.
Finding a supplier wasn’t hard, but dealing with contractors? That sucked ass. They were a fucking headache. Delays, excuses, half-finished jobs that made me want to tear my hair out. Until, miraculously, everything sped up overnight.
