He rolls his eyes. “Hilarious. Here. It was a rush job, but Esme helped me out.”
Anthony offers me a black garment bag I didn’t notice him carrying over his shoulder. Hesitantly, I accept it.
“What is this?”
“Your suit for tonight,” he says with an impliedduh. “I made the family’s outfits. Except for Jack. He insisted the suit he wore last year was fine, the heathen. Go put that on and tell me if it fits weird. It shouldn’t. Esme has a magicked mannequin. But I like to be sure.”
In a daze, I walk to the downstairs bathroom and lock myself in. There’s a hook on the back of the door, where I can hang the bag.
When I unzip it, I have to swallow a couple of times.
The suit is a rich, dark blue velvet. The shirt and tie are both black. And when I slip the ensemble on, the whole thing lies on me like a second skin.
There is a knock on the door.
“Let me see!” Anthony demands.
I huff an incredulous laugh, new confidence in my spine when I step out of the bathroom. The witch leans back, running an assessing eye over me. With quick movements, he undoes my tie and redoes it in a perfect knot.
“Good. Do you have any other shoes?”
Our gazes both drop to my work boots.
“Here. I think we’re the same size.” Jack materializes next to me, holding out a set of black loafers. Not as nice as his shiny black dress shoes, but better than my boots.
“That’ll do it. I’m going to go check on my sisters.” Anthony jabs a finger at me. “Don’t spill anything on that.”
“Yes, sir.”
He smirks and disappears up the stairs, leaving Jack and me alone.
“You didn’t know he was making you a suit,” the werewolf says, not a question.
“No.”
He holds my eyes. “You’ve been adopted. You’re part of the family.”
“I think I’m starting to get that.” My throat is tight on the words, as I’m barely able to handle the honor.
“Jack,” Ame calls from somewhere above us. “Anthony is making me wear heels. You need to stand at the bottom of the stairs to catch me in case I fall.”
The normally taciturn man breaks out into a wolfish grin. “Coming!”
He claps a hand on my shoulder and drags me along with him. And I’m glad he does because after Ame comes teetering down in her dangerously tall shoes and fatally—for Jack anyway—short dress, I get to watch my witch descend in a glorious sapphire-blue gown.
Crystals trace patterns over the rich-colored fabric. Mor has styled her hair in thick curls spilling over one shoulder, leaving the side of her neck exposed—and that is exactly where I aim my kiss.
“I don’t know how to explain how beautiful you are,” I mutter, struggling even to say that much with her standing before me like a vision.
“That was good.” She pats the lapels of my suit. “And I don’t know which version of you I like better—fancy suit-wearing Bo or worn-jeans-and-a-flannel Bo.”
“Gotta be this one, right?”
“You look good, baby.” Her fingers stroke the fabric. “But it’s the man in the clothes I love.”
I’ll never get tired of her saying things like that. “I love you too. So gods damned much.”
There’s a chittering noise near our ankles, and I glance down to find a raccoon tugging at my pants leg.
