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“Yes,” he said, turning away. He clenched his jaw. “We are.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Grayson

Grayson didn’t understand Lucy.

He could see it on her face, just how badly she wanted him to kiss her, but still she took a step back, putting up a wall. It was all right; he didn’t want to push.

He would do whatever she said, whatever she wanted, so he danced with her, having the best birthday of his life since his parents had been alive. The witch-wine was certainly having an effect on both her and Charles, and they kept downing shots.

He felt the effects as well, buzzing and floating. Lucy was so pretty he couldn’t stop staring, and he wanted to reach out and crush her body to his. The urge was so strong he was afraid he might act on it, feeling uninhibited thanks to the witch-wine, so he stopped after two shots.

He was Irish; he could hold his liquor well. But this witch-wine was something else entirely. A fact that did not deter Lucy, nor Charles.

An hour later, they were absolutely shit-faced.

“Erm, maybe it’s time to head to bed,” Grayson suggested as Lucy bounced around the house. Charles bopped his head in the background, his white hair flopping.

“Let’s have some fireworks!” Lucy cried, turning to Charles. He gasped.

“Excellent idea!” Charles agreed.

She ran for the back door through the living room, throwing it open. A gust of frigid February wind blew in. Grayson grabbed Lucy, locking an arm around her torso before she ran out in her little sweaterdress and tights.

“Let’s not!” he said, pulling her back. He set her down, closing the back door and bolting it shut.

“You’re no fun!” she said, pouting. But she was soon back to giggling and dancing. Charles joined her, swaying and holding on to his cane.

Grayson shut the music off.

“Boooooooo.” Lucy flopped onto the nearby sofa, kicking her legs up. She started playing with the tassels of one of the pillows, dark hair spilling off the side of the sofa.

“Noooooooo,” Charles cried, frowning.

“All right, let’s get you to bed,” Grayson said, taking Charles’s arm. He glanced over at Lucy, making sure she was okay. She had started to braid one of the tassels. That seemed to have her occupied at least.

Grayson walked Charles to his room, helping him to his bed.

“Psh, I’m fine,” Charles said, but even so, Grayson helped him in, taking Charles’s glasses off and setting them on the bedside table, where there was already a bottle of water in case he needed it. Charles snapped his fingers, changing into his pajamas. They were mismatched, the top blue and the flannel pants red, but it would do.

Grayson pulled the blanket up over him as he sank in, getting comfortable.

“Good night,” Grayson said, heading for the door.

“Good niiiiiiiight,” Charles sang, tone giddy. “You kids have fuuuuuuun.”

He winked at Grayson, then cackled. Actually cackled.

Grayson had no idea what that could mean, but he turned the light off, closing the door. He went back to the living room to find Lucy twirling with her arms up. She had put her heeled boots back on, though he didn’t know why.

“Look!” she said, spinning on her tiptoes. “I’m a ballerina!”

She faltered, and he lurched forward to catch her, holding on to her waist. Her arms went around his neck, a stupid smile coming over her face.

“Hi,” she said, looking up at him, brown eyes wide and happy.

“Hi,” he said, smiling back.