“What are you doing, Tuvy? Get up right now,” Mama demanded, but I couldn’t move.
A force I didn’t know was willing me to stay put, kept my knees planted, my hand drawing all the heartache out of Shelby, locking it away somewhere—I wasn’t quite sure where.
“Get up. I demand it, Tulya.” Mama resorted to my full name.
I felt my head shaking no…I’ve foundmy power, I started to think and then I worried. Panic joined the warmth in my veins.
After a few more beats, Shelby moved my hand and stood, taking me in, gaping at me. “Tuvy, how did you do that?” She rolled her shoulders back and inhaled, and looked at Mama, saying, “I’m over you and your whole crazy family.”
“What did she do?” Mama asked, staring daggers at Shelby.
“She…she…took… I don’t know, but…Tuvy made all the pain and heartache go away. It’s as if she drained me of it,” Shelby said before sidestepping out of the room, leaving me alone with my newly found magic and my mother scowling at me.
Never had I wished more to cry tears of lava as I took in Mother’s devilish grin as she spoke softly to herself.
“We have been waiting decades for this ability to rise again.”
Tulya
“Donovan Malachite can’t stop looking at you,” Prim whispered in my ear.
“Little Drummer Boy”—but make it a modern, snappy version, complete with a lead foot in the fills—echoed in the background, yet I heard my friend loud and clear.
Swatting her away with my hand as if she were a pesky fly, I spoke softly. “Please, I don’t even want to hear it. You know this—I’m not into him, or anyone. I can’t be. Also, I think it’s pretty clear I don’t get involved with men who carry all that swagger. I mean, look at him. He’s the epitome of bad boy. And, well, I’m nothing like that.”
“He is staring right at you, my gorgeous, redheaded vixen, and he looks hot as… And so do you.”
Lord help me, but when Prim got on one, she stayed there.
“Stop. Maybe he’s dreaming of you, my stunning, tiny brunette.” I tossed a version of her words back at her, raising an eyebrow at my closest friend.
She fluffed her freshly styled beach waves and rolled her eyes. “He’s definitely not thinking about me, and I’m most certainly not pining for him. You know that.” The last part was a primal growl, and I knew it only too well.
If there was a single thing I’d grown to accept, it was Prim having had one crush all her life, despite it being the bane of my existence.
“He’s not the one,” I persisted to try and convince her.
“Shhh,” she protested. “Let’s concentrate on you.”
“I’m not here for love,” I stated emphatically before taking a long pull of champagne.
Leaning in again and bringing her lips close to my ear, Prim whispered, “What about sex? Are you here for that?”
She couldn’t see me turning my eyes in my head, but she must have known—she pinched my forearm before moving a step or two backward, never taking one eye off the other side of the room.
“Seriously, Tuvy, a woman cannot live on friendship alone. You should allow yourself a little romp in the sheets.” She emphasized theromp in the sheetswith a shoulder shimmy.
We were leaning against the bar in my family’s cavernous dining room, surveying the scene, and suddenly I regretted agreeing to do so because Donovan chose this moment to look up and gaze directly at me. And wink.
My friend couldn’t help herself. “Did you see that?” Prim had been boy crazy since we were twelve; a little more than a decade later and nothing had changed.
“Primrose, quit it…” was all I could come up with.
“Oh, the full name is coming out,” she taunted with a soft giggle.
It was my family’s annual Christmas party, and if I wasn’t expected to attend, I’d have stayed in my cottage toward the back of their land, reading by the fire, ignoring the world around me. Alas, there was no denying Mama what she wanted, so I was present and accounted for when it came to the festivities.
My family had been hosting the party for decades, long before I was born, and it was my duty to continue the tradition in the future. That didn’t stop me from trying to pawn the responsibility off on my younger sister, Caro. She was only thirteen months my junior, and quite the social butterfly—unlike me—but Mama wouldn’t consider it. The party was typically handed down to the first-born sibling, meaning it would have been Bruno and his spouse’s burden, except for what happened that miserable year…the one where the party was co-opted for an engagement celebration. Except the nuptials never took place, and my mother had gone into overdrive when it came to the festivities every year after.
