I could hardly believe she was back in our arms. I hadn’t dared dream about it while she’d been gone, but now she was here and she knew I loved her, and for this moment, everything felt right with the world.
Poe had stretched out on one side of us, Bram on the other, when I had a flash of realization: we hadn’t gotten a condom.
And then another one: I didn’t care.
I kissed the top of her head. “Happy New Year, killer.”
“Yeah, Happy New Year, little bird,” Poe said.
“Happy New Year,” Maeve said. “What do you want next year?”
I squeezed her tighter. “Nothing I don’t already have.”
“Same,” Poe said. “What about you?”
She didn’t hesitate. “I want Ethan Todd dead.”
Bram brought her hand to his lips. “Your wish is our command.”
26
MAEVE
I wincedat the sight of my reflection in the mirror in Bram’s bathroom. It had been a week since we’d gotten home from Romania, and while most of the purple had faded, there were still big yellow splotches where my skin was still trying to heal.
“You’re beautiful,” Poe said, kissing me on the head as he walked past me to pee.
Naked, of course,
This was how it was with us now: we all slept together in a rotation of beds that had no rhyme or reason, we ate our meals together, and the Butchers didn’t think twice about peeing in front of me even though I still wasn’t there yet.
A little mystery never hurt anyone, and since they’d seen every inch of my body from pretty much every angle — I had the sore pussy to prove it — the bathroom was kind of my last stand.
“Bailey is going to freak,” I said, leaning in for a closer look.
She’d been pressing for a visit since I’d gotten home, but I hadn’t dared invite her over when my face had been as swollen as a basketball and as purple as a plum. I’d been able to beg off with not-untrue claims of exhaustion, but finally she’d told meshe would be at the loft the next day and I could either call the cops when she climbed the fence or make plans to let me in.
It was something we had in common — not taking no for an answer — so I couldn’t be mad.
“Maybe at first,” Poe said, finishing up and flushing the toilet. “But she’ll get over it once she sees for herself that you’re okay.”
He patted my ass, bare under Bram’s T-shirt (or was it Remy’s?).
I sighed and pulled on leggings, then went to the kitchen to put the pastries I’d made the night before on a serving plate.
It had taken me a couple days to settle into unemployment, but I’d slowly found my way back to the kitchen, not because the Butchers expected me to cook for them but because it was still my comfort mechanism.
For the first time in a long time, I cooked by whim, making whatever sounded good to me that day. It had been the best way to get my appetite back, and I’d made a vat of homemade spaghetti sauce and crusty roasted garlic bread, simmering pots of soup, two batches of cookies (oatmeal chocolate chip and buttery snickerdoodles), and the flakey raspberry custard pastries — Bailey’s favorite — I’d made for her visit.
I’d just poured some orange juice into a glass pitcher when the intercom buzzed.
I let Bailey in and headed downstairs to meet her at the door.
She was pulling off her coat and scarf when she caught sight of me on the stairs.
She froze, then burst into tears.
“What’s wrong?” Then I remembered my face. I touched a hand to my cheeks. I guess it was worse than I thought.
