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Indigo interlocks her fingers with mine as we walk inside. The door swings open to Iris, who invites us in. She’s smiling wide, like she always does, and I realize how different she is from Indigo and their mother. Indigo is happy and bubbly, but there’s a hesitation in her voice and movements at times. The anxiety leaks out of her, and, while it’s endearing, it’s also clear that it hurts her. Similarly, there’s a sadness in Mrs. Watson. Her smiles don’t seem to reach her eyes. But Iris doesn’t come across this way. There’s no anxiety or melancholia bubbling at the surface. If she has any, she must keep it locked deep down, like I do.
Inside the living room is the pine we picked out together the other day, now covered in lights and ornaments. A few are clearly from when Indigo and Iris were children, and I can’t help but stop and stare at the white-haired child with big purple eyes in some of the photos. She was always adorable.
“Come sit at the table, everyone; dinner's almost ready,” Mrs. Watson shouts from the kitchen. There’s a cinnamon smell coming from her direction, and it’s enticing me to want whatever she’s cooking. I’m practically drooling, I’m so hungry.
We all walk into the dining room and take our seats. Indigo’s father is dressed up, just as we are, but Iris didn’t get the memo. She’s in an oversized anime t-shirt and a black mini-skirt. To each their own, but I can’t imagine wearing something like that in front of my own father. I’d receive a lecture, even at twenty-eight.
“Did you get Mom anything for Christmas yet?” Iris whispers to Indigo, who is seated next to me.
“Not yet; why?” Indigo whispers back.
“I was thinking we could go halfsies and get her and Dad a cruise.”
Indigo stares at their father, then back at Iris. “Dude?”
Iris rolls her eyes. “He already knows. The surprise is for Mom, dip-ass.”
I try not to interject their sisterly bickering, though it pains me. I guess it’s something I’ll never understand.
“So, Vega, tell me about your job,” Mr. Watson inquires.
My job? Fucking hell, they don’t know I work at Augury. Job—what did we say I do? I have zero memory. Play it cool, Vega. “Well, I get to use my magic quite often.”
“Oh really? How so?” he asks.
I remember my conversation with Indigo. Her parents can’t know that I work at Augury, but I need to impress her mother with my magic… but what did we decide I do? “It really comes in handy. Of course, anyone can work in almost any field, but my magic definitely makes it easier for me.”
I’m an idiot. I really just mage-splained the usefulness of magic to a human married into a magical family. Jeez. I’ve never been off my game more than today.
“Not to be weird, but I’ve always wondered this. Do people’s sweat make the equipment fall apart faster?” he asks, and I blanche. Sweat? Equipment? Did we tell them I design sex toys for a living?
“I’m not sure,” I say, seeking an out from this conversation. By the looks of Iris’ tongue sticking out and Indigo’s snarl, I’d say they’re still getting into it with one another.
“With a body like yours, I’m sure your customers believe you know what you’re doing,” he says. “You’ll have to give me pointers sometime. As you can see, I’m rusty.”
That’s… so incredibly perverted. And strange. Why would he say that? Indigo is so lucky that I adore her, because otherwise I’d walk out.
“I—”
“Yeah!” Iris interrupts. “I never really thought Indigo would be into a muscle mommy, but here we are.”
Muscle mommy?Oh.I really am an idiot.
“Who better to design gym equipment than an expert at working out?” Indigo says with a grin, leaning closer to me.
I have never been so embarrassed in my life. I’m so flustered, I think my ancestors on Barac can feel it in the past. If my skin weren’t green, it would be flushed bright red right now.
“Everything okay?” Indigo whispers, her lips brushing against my ear.
“Just peachy,” I say and place a hand on her thigh. I can never tell her about this, she wouldn’t let me live it down.
“Dinner’s ready,” Mrs. Watson says jovially, carrying a tray with one hand, while using her magic to carry in the others. All at once plates come down onto the table. There's turkey, mashed potatoes, salad, and even lasagne.
Mr. Watson cuts into the meat, passing it around the table until everyone’s plate is full of food. I love food, and as excited I am to eat all of this, I can’t help wondering where the cinnamon scent went.
“I’m so glad you could join us, Vega, truly,” Mrs. Watson starts. I can visibly see Indigo tense up at the statement. “Sometimes we worry that Indigo and Iris won’t find love, but I’m happy to see she’s having some success in her romantic life.”
“Huh?” Worried for what? They’re both beautiful, both young, and both successful. How would Indigo or Iris have any problems dating?
