I steel myself, determined not to feel another wave of that silly jealousy that caught hold of me with Magnus.
“Is this…?” The faerie pauses, blinking at me. Gil nods, a slow grin spreading across his face.
“Wow, oh, oh! I’m so excited to meet you!” the woman says, practically shoving Gil out of the way to clasp my hands in hers. “I’m Heather! Gil has told me so much about you.”
“He has?” I manage, embarrassed that my voice is barely a squeak.
“I told you I never stopped looking,” Gil says, but there’s something a little sheepish in his tone. He can’t be worried that he’s going to scare me away at this point. “There have been times I’ve enlisted outside help.”
“Yeah, but it’s not exactly easy to Google someone based on a first name alone,” Heather says, releasing her grip, a bright spark in her eyes. “I hoped you’d find each other again.”
“My flame,” a deep voice comes from inside the house, and a man whose height rivals the doorframe appears, dark black wings trailing behind him. His eyes are bright red, skin stark white with gold freckles, and on top of both of their heads are something akin to fluffy, moth-like antenna.
With her pastels and his midnight black attire, they look like Persephone and Hades incarnate, and I blink at the supermodel-pretty couple.
“Your mother is continuing to ask when we will be cutting into the cake,” the man says, his voice smooth like velvet. I sense this cake thing has been an ongoing battle by the tired way he carries himself. When she places her hand on his, the tension leaves his shoulders. It’s as if the act of touching her is recharging his social battery.
“Ugh, did you remind her we’re like, so not doing a gender reveal thing?” Heather says with an eyeroll. I think I like her more and more by the second.
“I did, and she persists—”
“Good thing I had them dye the sponge purple to throw her off,” Heather says with a laugh that can only be described as maniacal. You know what? “Like” is an understatement—I want her to be my friend too.
“Our children will be lucky to have a mother so fearsome,” he says, lowering himself to plant a kiss on the top of her head. I blink. Is this what a functional relationship looks like?
Heather’s hand absentmindedly rests on her stomach as she guides us through the large home in the woods. I can’t help but be stuck on the way Moth said “children.” I wonder if they’re having twins. The idea of growing up with an instant best friend for life sounds honestly ideal.
Someone stuck with you forever no matter what.
We move into the living room, where Gil deposits his gift on a crowded table. Being 5’9, I’ve gotten used to being one of the tallest people in every room I walk into—not here. The cozy space is filled with faeries that tower over me, whose wings occasionally bump snacks off the table. Treats are swiftly gobbled up by a fluffy dog-like creature, whose dark antennae bobble as he plops his head on my lap.
An honor. Parties are always better with a dog in the house.
Among the few humans are two friends named Rosie and Clara, who seem to be really close with everyone. They mingle easily. Heather’s mom is also in attendance—I’m pretty sure I recognize her as a popular food blogger. I may not be on social media, but I swear she was a judge on a cupcake reality show my aunt watches. I’ve seen her photo on cookware sold in the grocery store. Now, however, she is eyeing the cake like she has x-ray vision, and given the company we’re in, shemight.
Gil knows them all well. He navigates small talk with the ease of a captain steering a ship through a well-traveled path. It’s admirable, the way he can just talk to anyone. I lean on him to keep me steady.
As if sensing my moment of doubt, his webbed hand reassuringly touches my waist, and just like that, the waters are calm again.
He loves me.
He wants me here.
And he stays holding my hand through every moment until Heather appears behind me. “Could I have a hand in the kitchen?” she asks quietly, as if the request is for my ears alone. Gil looks to me for approval before I nod, slipping away. I wouldn’t mind an excuse to get to know Gil’s friends a little more.
The kitchen looks both old and new, a soft powder blue with state-of-the-art appliances and vintage flair. Dozens of questions are at the tip of my tongue as she gently instructs me to refill large pink party platters with cookies and add more ice to the cooler.
“Anything else you’d like?” I ask once the tasks are complete. I’m sure Heather wants to get back to her guests.
“Can I be like so honest for a sec?” There’s a cheeky smile on her face. “I just like really wanted to get to know you.”
“You did?”
“It might not look like it,” she says, fluttering her wings. “But I was actually human not too long ago.”
“What?” I tilt my head, studying this girl who looks like she was born to have fairy wings. “How?” is all I can choke out.
“So, it was like this whole thing—do you know about Mothman?” she begins. I shake my head, letting my confusion show.
