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This is right for Lucy, for the orphanage, and for me. It’s all terrifying, but no matter what, I’m going to make sure Lucy is safe and well taken care of. That little girl is the only thing that matters now. And I am cautiously optimistic. This may be a bit unorthodox, but it could be the start of something wonderful.
Once I’m calmed down, I finish the drive back to the orphanage. Lucy is waiting by the door, practically vibrating with nerves. When she sees me, I smile and the air around hererupts in sparkles. Normally, we try to discourage uncontrolled magic, but her joy is so infectious that I let it slide.
She throws herself into my arms. “You said yes!”
I squeeze her tight, then settle her feet gently back on the ground. “I did.”
Walking with her into the common room, I struggle to keep up with all the questions.
“When’s the wedding? What dress will you wear? Will there be chocolate cake? How long before I’m adopted?” She shoots them off in a rapid fire, one after another.
Her excitement makes me excited, and for a bit, I stop thinking about the potential consequences of the deal and instead focus on the possibilities that the future will hold. Lucy is so overjoyed, and that little girl’s happiness is my happiness.
No matter what happens next, Lucy will have a bright future. I’m going to make sure of it.
9
ARGOSS
I’m still riding the high of my victory with Felicity when I see the missed call from Steve. Then the next one, followed by a voicemail after that, plus a few texts for good measure.
I assume the groundskeeper talked to his son, which means Steve just might be getting that Christmas vacation he’s been asking for. I open the first of multiple text messages, hoping Steve’s spelled all the information out for me. It would save me a call, not to mention a headache, if the man cut to the chase for once.
My son came thought!his first text reads.He’s bot idioms!I frown at the nonsensical string of words, though I expected as much. Steve enjoys talk-to-text, which means he ends up having to repeat himself over and over.
My son came through! Ha ha. He’s bot odes!
I scoff and scroll down. Our thread is long and filled with memes Steve thinks I’ll get a kick out of. They’re mostly demon-related and screenshots from his phone, always including his low battery icon at the top corner. I once made the mistake of liking a meme and haven’t stopped paying for it since.
Odes!
His second attempt is no better.
Odes!
Odes!
Call me.
I shake my head and will myself to dial. Whatever Steve’s trying to tell me, at least the brain-dead glass of warm two-percent milk seems excited. That’s promising.
“Steve,” I say into the phone as soon as he picks up. “This is Argoss, your employer.”
“Shucks, guy. I know who you are.” He laughs. “You get my texts?”
“I did.”
“Didn’t make much sense, huh?” He chuckles, and I wonder what I did to make him think this call is casual. “The kids keep telling me to stop using that darn talk-to-text, but it sure is handy when it works!”
I let out a growl, rather than the even-toned response I was going for. ‘When it works’ is not synonymous with quality.
“You’re entitled to your opinion, Steve.” I close my eyes and hope the next words I hear aren’t text-related.
“Thank you, Argoss. I’ll let them know you’ve got my back on this.”
“I didn’t say that,” I correct as a loud horn blares through the phone.
“Huh? Come again?” Wherever Steve is, there’s traffic and my guess is he’s stopping it.
