“They already left, didn’t they?” she asks, her blue eyes large and glassy. She and Heather have had a rocky relationship but seem to have reached a healthy understanding of what it means to broadcast their lives online. Heather still deals with the repercussions of living her life in the flash of a cell phone, but as Marsha enters the house and puts her phone in the bin at our entryway, I am grateful for the growth she has shown.
I would not enjoy beingvlogged.
“They did.” I nod. Considering the woman still doesn’t know the truth of my origin, I believe it might be for the best. A night in the Fae realm is a large revelation to spring on anyone.
“Well, maybe I can still catch them. Are they at that tavern or one of the girls’ houses?”
“I am afraid I do not have the address.”
“How?”
I blink, unsure how to respond.
“Men.” She deflates, setting her bags down in the doorway before stepping past me into the cabin. I easily lift them, carrying them the rest of the way into the house. Huh … it seems she plans on staying here this evening.
This is an interesting turn of events.
“Just as well. I don’t think she wanted me to come, anyway,” she says. I do not know how to respond. From my understanding, none of our elders had been invited. Holly promised a small gathering.
“I do not know if it will bring you solace, but my mother is also not in attendance.”
She sighs.“I guess it’s alright for her to have a night with just her friends.” She shakes her head. “Not everyone wants to be sitting next to their mother at a strip club.”
A what?Reflexively, my eyebrow quirks, which is apparently a laughable gesture considering the way Marsha chuckles.
“Oh, come on, you know what happens at these things.” She ribs me with her elbow like we are a couple of old friends.
Apparently, I do not.
“At least let me help you with this mess.” She gestures to the unfinished centerpieces as she shrugs off her large pink coat. “I’m sure she’s told you how much I love a good craft project.” Marsha cracks her knuckles, seemingly ready to distract herself with the mess laid before us.
Moving to throw a log on the fire, I sigh. It appears I will not be spending a quiet evening alone after all.
This will not stand.
No, such a hideous mockery of my flame’s wishes cannot be, just days before our wedding. Not now, not ever. I pick one of the ribbons from the table, holding the plum strand between the tip of my claws.
“She specifically asked for burgundy,” I seethe.
“Sweetie, it all matches just fine.” Marsha bats away my worries with a flick of her wrist. For a moment, her hand passes through the glamour that hides my wings from sight, causing an uncomfortable tingle down my spine. My future mother-in-law, thankfully, does not seem to notice. “You need to relax.”
Relax.
Hah.
Relax.So says my future mother-in-law after she’s shown up two days early with the wrong color ribbon, and a hodge-podge of craft supplies I’m not sure what to make of.
How am I supposed torelaxwhen the one task I was meant to complete has been bulldozed by this woman?
“Also, since when does the groom worry about any of this stuff?” She laughs. I cock my head, unable to gather the meaning from her words.
It isourwedding, and Heather has stressed its significance many times. I will do what I must to make it as wondrous as she imagines. Even if it means arguing with Marsha about the acceptable shade of ribbon, though I do not intend to treat her with anything other than respect. She is Heather’s mother, and will soon be my family as well. But as my bride is not here to defend her vision; it is a role I must not fail in.
Marsha skillfully blends the light purple ribbons in with the dark. I blink, watching the way the colors blend into something with more depth than just the one shade itself.
Perhaps this time she is right. Heather has always commended her mother’s craftiness, but it is something else to see it firsthand. Resigned, I copy the movement of her hands, weaving and tying the small ribbons around the mason jars that will eventually hold tea lights. Sure enough, they match just fine, and a small amount of tension falls from my shoulders.
“We really need to get you some more friends. Heather is out partying! You should be having a wild night with the guys, not making floral arrangements with your future mother-in-law.”
