“And on that note.” Logan holds up a finger. “There’s something I want to show you—all ofyou.”
“I’m sorry,” I mouth to Gage, and he shakes his head as if it’snothing.
“We still win. You and I remain the same. We won’t bend to the will of anyone. I’m not going anywhere. You and I will raise our boys. My heart belongs to you and to ourpeople.”
Marshall grunts. “I’m tempted to clap, but then I recall it’s Jock Strap who’s speaking. His people are not your people,Skyla.”
Logan offers a dull smile. “Neither are they yours, Dudley.” He holds that white file between us that readsBakova Studios. “This isn’t easy for me to say or share.” His eyes look to mine, weighted with grief, and I see a citrine sunset buried in each one. “Skyla”—That longitudinal dimple I gave him dips in—“she’s not here anymore.” He opens the file as Gage wraps his arms around me from behind, and in that instant I realize Gage has already been apprised of the terrible news. I don’t need to ask who she is. Tears stain my cheeks quicker than expected as Logan shows us the pictures we took that morning with Angel and the boys—with Gage. All of us one big happy family. One by one I observe the void our little angel left behind. Not a single trace of her or that ruffled pink confection I dressed her in thatmorning.
My throat constricts, but I push past the baby-sized knot. “I thought people disappearing from pictures was just some tired trope used by Hollywood, and here we are proving it wrong.” My fingers brush over the space where her body once stood. “How cruel of my mother to leave nothing of our little girlbehind.”
“We have our memories,” Logan offers the empty consolation. But we both know that could never be enough. Memories fade. They’re unreliable at best. Even as we stand here, I’m forgetting the subtleties of the way her hair smelled, those rolls of flesh along her legs. And that husky, and yet completely feminine laugh—thankfully, that’s ingrained in my soul, coursing through my veins like the whisper of, yes, anangel.
Marshall lets out a sigh that could take down a forest. “I’m sorry—for the both of you.” His eyes drag from Logan to me. “I’ve been summoned to the holy throne for a routine accounting. While I’m there, I’ll see if there’s anything I can glean for you.” He gives a subtle nod before leaning in and landing a chaste kiss to my cheek.I’m forever at your service, your majesty.“Anything else I can help youwith?”
I’m about to open my mouth when Gage gives me a hard squeeze before spinning me gently into him. “There is something we need.” His dimples depress, and all seems right with the world again. “Our anniversary is tomorrow. Twoyears.”
“And counting,” Iadd.
He pushes out a quiet smile. “If you don’t mind, I’d like for us to renew our vows. It feels as if we had a tough year, hiding in and out of shadows, and I think it’s appropriate that while the sun is up over Paragon we shower our union with light and love.” His thumb swirls over the palm of my hand, and my stomach does that roller coaster thing I love. “Would you mind saying a few words?” He’s speaking to Marshall, but his eyes won’t leavemine.
“Mostcertainly.”
“Thanks.” He dots my lips with a kiss before looking to Logan. “You up for witnessing theevent?”
“I wouldn’t miss it.” Logan tucks the file under his arm, and his chest expands as if he were girdinghimself.
Marshall steps before us and offers a loving prayer, blessing us in this hour—in every hour that God deems to give us, and I stop shy of flinching, of crying out that we would have more than that even. “And with that—may God bless you both and keep you. What have you to say foryourselves?”
“Skyla”—Gage holds my hands between us—“I love you more than words could ever speak. I have loved you before I knew you. And I will love you far beyond my final breath.” Tears glitter in his eyes, and my heart wrenches because the last thing I want is for this to turn into a eulogy of ourlove.
I press a finger over his lips, sealing in all talk of eternity. “We have this moment. This isourmoment, our time, our life—and I plan on spending the next eight decades at least with you by my side. There isn’t any being on earth or in heaven that could break the bond we share. Our love isn’t temporal. It isn’t something subject to the breath in our lungs. Our love is infinite, as deep and wide and mysterious as the existence of the living God who sanctioned it. Yes, you are mine, and you always will be. We are steering the ship of our love, of our lives, of our future. And I chose a long and arduously drama-free life with you and our boys.” My heart pinches hard because it feels as if I’ve just driven the final nail through any life Logan hoped to have with me. But I’m not up for juggling three men like my mother suggested. I’m up for loving the one I’m with. The one my heart says I’ll live my days out with by my side. Gage Oliver is mine, and fate and all of her fury can go fuckherself.
“Kiss the bride if you must.” Marshall heads for the house, and Logan offers both Gage and me a quick pat over the shoulder before doing thesame.
But Gage and I seal our love by way of a wet, delicious kiss under the supervision of a small army of long-lashed llamas, under the supervision of a crystalline sky and that burning heart she bears down on us with. I can feel the white light of its affection warming my back as Gage probes my mouth sweetly with his tongue. Two short years under our belt and yet it feels as if Gage has been with me since I took my first breath on this planet. Our kisses pick up pace with a heated frenzy of things to come, but I can feel the fevered anguish layered beneath the lust, crying out in agony of what lies ahead. A damned future painted by the hand of my mother, his father—two celestial beings with one dangerous agenda—to sever the bond that holds us together. My mother wants Gage exchanged for Logan in my bed, in my heart—and Demetri, well, he needs his son on the throne. And it just so happens to be that the path to the throne is through the curtain ofdeath.
Sometimes being an angel can be suchhell.
Halloween.A month rolls by, bringing the boys both to their eleventh month of life—standing while holding onto furniture and laughing with glee as they threaten to take their first voluntary steps in this world. But mostly, importantly, this month, on a cold night exactly a week ago, Ezrina and Nev ushered in a dreamy pink bundle of joy named Alice. Dark hair, deep navy newborn-colored eyes, and a face blessed by God Himself— Alice O’Hare is a bewitching beauty. Nevermore explained that the name Alice came from what was once Ezrina’s most beloved blade. It might seem like a strange leap to others, but it’s obvious to those of us who know and appreciate Ezrina and Nev that this child’s name is a great honor bestowed uponher.
But this night, all hallowsevil, the who’s who of Paragon have been summoned to Demetri’s haunted estate to celebrate the day of hispeople.
I frown at my reflection in the glass of the minivan passenger’swindow.
Gage and I opted for a couple’s costume—I’ve donned my West cheerleader uniform because thank God Almighty I was able to squeeze into it—mostly. I don’t suppose anyone will know I’m buying a couple of inches with an obscenely long safety pin Emily lent me. And Gage, well, he’s hot as hell dressed as a West Paragon dirty, dirty Dawg who’s already threatened a touchdown in my kick pants before the night is through. And seeing that we’re at Demetri’s and not Marshall’s the way God intended for this unblessed event, I’m suspecting the night will end rather spectacularly andabruptly.
Gage hands me Nathan, still groggy from his nap, and I can’t help but smile. We’ve dressed the boys as a couple of little skunks, and we haven’t stopped snapping pictures of them ever since we stuffed them in these ridiculously cute costumes. Of course, we stopped by Emma and Barron’s first and let them ogle and hold our precious little stinkers. My own mother is already at Demetri’s not-so-humble abode commandeering tonight’s circus the demon himself has thrust upon us. Speaking of abodes, humble or not, Gage and I have been burning rubber on our own cozy dwelling. Not only will our home be ready to move into by Christmas, but I’ve decided to bite the bullet and give Gage an early birthday gift by way of moving us all into Emma and Barron’s for our last and final few weeks of parental incarceration—hell, I figure I could stand on my head for a few weeks if I hadto.
A happy little jack-o-lantern carved with a grin that holds a child-like innocence greets us at Demetri’s door. I know for a fact it came from Logan’s very own pumpkin patch—the Oliver Pumpkin Patch to be exact because I took the boys, and we helped select the pumpkins my mother picked up for the party. Mostly Gage and I picked them out, but we had a blast sitting the boys in a sea of orange and taking pictures of them as if it were their last moments on earth. The storage on my phone is in serious peril at this point. I’ve taken thousands of pictures of them. Of course, none as good as the ones Lex has taken. I’ve got to give it to the girl. I may not like her man-stealing tactics, but she wields a mean camera. And circling back to Logan, he did just as he said he would do. He gave away each and every pumpkin that he grew this year to the kids on the island. I’ve always known Logan has a heart of gold, and now everyone else knows it,too.
Demetri’s home appears to be openly scowling at me, with those tall creepy windows that mimic arched brows, those obnoxious glass doors that resemble a large gaping mouth. I glare at the monolithic mansion that demon insists on occupying. The liar claims it was once his grandfather’s, but I doubt such a creature ever existed. Nevertheless, tonight’s clash of costumes is strictly Wesley’s fault—well, Chloe’s fault, too. The real reason Demetri’s haunted mansion is festooned with black and purple balloons is because his one and only granddaughter, precious October Edinger, turns one today. And, for Tobie, I’ll show up every day of theweek.
Gage adjusts Barron on his hip before shutting the door to the minivan and squinting up at his father’s demonic hovel. “You ready to dothis?”
“As ready as I’ll never be.” I give a quickwink.
“Count me in,” a voice floats from behind, and we find Logan dressed to kill in a flannel and jeans and nothing more than a smile. “Look at you.” He forces a frown to come and go as he kisses each of the boys. “I promise I’ll get your parents back forthis.”
