“I know, Mom.” Blake sighed and ran a hand through his wavy hair. “You never try to. Problems just find you. Then they follow you around like fucked-up baby ducks. It was always a new case or a new relationship or a visit from some weird relative from your mother’s side...”
I did my best to keep my defensiveness under control. Ihadspent part of this morning airing harvester stink out of the shop, so maybe he had a point. I changed the subject rather than admit it. “How are things at the bank? Have you met anyone?”
“The bank is fine. I’ve met lots of people. No, I’m not interested in starting a relationship with any of them.”
“That’s good. That you’re meeting people, I mean.” For the past year and a half, Blake had worked as a loan officer at Horizon Bank. I suspected it was part of his unspoken plan to drive me crazy by living the most vanilla, mundane life possible.
His shoulders tightened and lifted half an inch, like he could read my annoyance. “I know you think sitting at a desk all day is a special kind of hell, but I enjoy my job. I like talking to people and helping them get the money they need for their homes and their cars and their futures. It’s a good job. Reliable. Stable. It lets me take care of the kids.”
“You’re a good parent,” I said as a peace offering. A hell of a lot better than I’d been, and we both knew it.
He left that unsaid, a small kindness. “Tell that to their mom.”
“I’d be happy to, if you think it would help—”
“God, no.” His eyes were large with sudden panic. “I mean it, Mom. Don’t call Erin. Don’t text her. Don’t send her a letter. Don’t even think in her direction.”
“All right.” I raised my hands in surrender. “I’ll stay out of it, I promise.”
He relaxed slightly and turned to stare at the A-frame sign beside the door. A chalk drawing showed winged books fluttering about like butterflies over a field of wildflowers. Bright block letters read,APRIL SPECIAL: 10% OFF ANY BOOK WITH A FLOWER ON THE COVER.
“That looks like Morgan’s work,” said Blake.
“He drew the picture last weekend. Jenny did the lettering.”
Blake didn’t look at me. Maybe it was easier for him to talk that way. “The last time I dropped the kids off with Erin, she called me later that night saying she wanted to try again. The worst part was that this time, she mentioned it to Morgan and Ava, too. Raising their hopes and forcing me to be the bad guy.”
Blake’s relationships had always been messy. Ever since his first crush back in middle school, he’d tortured himself with his own conflicted feelings and insecurities. “You still love her, don’t you?”
“It doesn’t matter. She doesn’t love me.”
The pain in his words was like a kick to my gut. “How do you know that?”
“I don’t, and that’s the problem,” he snapped. “How am I supposed to know what’s real and what’s a response to demonic pheromones?”
And we were back tothisfight. I heard the resentment and the blame in his words, even after all this time.
It wasn’t like I’d chosen to be half-demon, or to pass that blood and power along to my son and his children. If anything, it was my mother’s fault. Succubi weren’t supposed to fall in love or settle down with a mortal man or have a child.
Yet somehow, she’d made it work. She and Dad had been together for more than sixty years. They were still happy, living together in a suburb of Paris, eating canelés and drinking wine and having absurd octogenarian sex.
I guess the happy-relationship genes had skipped at least two generations. I turned the conversation back to my granddaughter and her right to know the truth. “Quand vas-tu le dire à Ava?”
“Quand elle a treize ans. Elle n’est pas prête.” His French was rusty. I’d insisted he learn my native language when he was a child, but it was obvious he hadn’t kept up. “Maman, je peux pas—”
“Tu ne peux pas, ou tu as peur?”You can’t, or you’re afraid to?
Blake turned to go. At the bottom of the porch steps, he said, “I appreciate you watching the kids, but I’m their father. I’ll decide when Ava’s ready.”
He left without saying goodbye. I watched him pull away in his safe, practical, utterly vanilla Honda Odyssey.
“That was great, Annette,” I muttered. “Good job bonding with your son.”
I had three minutes until the shop opened. I used one of them to gather my composure, then returned to the kitchen, where Ava was playing on her phone while Morgan rinsed dishes.
“Who wants to draw new shelf cards for Grandma?”
• • •
