“No one told me we needed to plan a party,” Colburn added.
“Well, it’s not a necessity,” his mother said. “But I assumed with so many nosy D’Vaires, someone would insist you put one together so they could visit the apartment.”
“Planning a party is too overwhelming,” Crispin muttered. “I’m glad no one mentioned it.”
“We don’t want hordes of people traipsing through here,” Gramlithyn stated. “But you’re welcome to visit us whenever you want, Mom and Dad.”
“Thank you, we promise not to be pests, but we might pop in now and then,” his mother replied.
“Don’t expect a basket full of gifts each time though,” his father teased.
“But if I find anything I think you guys can use, I’ll be sure and bring it by,” Semira added.
“I’ll give you a list of my favorite stuff in case you’re somewhere and see something on sale or something,” Dasan commented.
“I’ll buy it even if it’s not on sale,” Gramlithyn’s mother assured the hummingbird. “So, be sure and give me a full list.”
Gramlithyn rolled his eyes as Dasan yanked out his phone to text Semira everything he’d ever enjoyed in his life. At least his mother would have someone to shop for besides Gramlithyn. She had a generous spirit, and Dasan was about to learn that she wasn’t kidding about spoiling him.
Chapter 23
Pyxlevir took a putter from Gramlithyn and picked a light green ball from the basket near the counter where they’d paid for their round of mini golf. Without hesitation, Gramlithyn plucked out a blue ball for himself, and Pyxlevir grinned. Blue had been Gramlithyn’s favorite color for as long as he could remember, and it pleased him that not everything had changed in their lives.
“I haven’t played this in years,” Gramlithyn said as they strolled toward the first hole. Pyxlevir purposely allowed Gramlithyn to walk slightly ahead of him so he could appreciate the way his faded jeans hugged his ass. The beauty of Gramlithyn’s decision to give up traditional elven dress was how his preference for denim and cotton showed off his muscular physique. Although Pyxlevir was proud to be an elf, he appreciated that having a mate with shifter blood meant Gramlithyn wasn’t a skinny waif like Pyxlevir himself.
“That’s okay, you were terrible when we were teenagers,” Pyxlevir teased. “It’d be weirder if you were suddenly good at mini golf.”
“As I recall, you were just as shitty as me. Do you want to go first?”
“Nope, I can do better if I can copy your strategy or take a different route if your attempt is an epic fail.”
Gramlithyn rolled his eyes but placed his ball on the artificial grass. The course they’d selected was dragon themed, and Pyxlevir loved how the course designer had included the beasts everywhere. They were on the placards with the hole number, etched into the metal on the putter, and Pyxlevir even spotted a stone one lounging among the drought-friendly flora nearby.
But Pyxlevir’s gaze was inevitably drawn to the hybrid lining up his shot. Gramlithyn’s tongue slid out as he concentrated and swung his club. His first attempt wasn’t horrible, and if he was careful with his next one, he could likely sink his ball in two strokes. The pressure was on Pyxlevir to match his performance. Not that Pyxlevir cared about the score. He was there to be with Gramlithyn.
But the game had to be played, so he set his ball down and wiggled his hips as he weighed his choices.
“Any advice?” Pyxlevir asked.
“Don’t swing too hard; there is a gentle slope near the hole.”
Pyxlevir swung and did a fist bump when his ball rolled to within inches of Gramlithyn’s. “We’re off to a good start.”
“Yep, I hope my job is too. It was a long week.”
“But you like it.”
“I did. It’s too early to tell, but young Gram with his dreams of working at Elven D’Vaire may have been onto something.”
Pyxlevir gave a little clap as Gramlithyn sunk his ball, then did the same with his own, and they headed to the next hole.
“I knew that guy,” Pyxlevir said. “Young Gramlithyn was pretty incredible. Probably my favorite person until I was eighteen.”
“You liked him, but he had some serious flaws. Ones he may not have remedied despite his absence and years of character building away from here.”
“Everyone has strengths and weaknesses. That’s part of life.”
“It’s disproportional,” Gramlithyn argued after catapulting his ball toward the hole.
