Chapter Thirteen
Meeting the Family
Despite lying in bedfor several hours, Oliver didn’t feel relaxed. He probably should have brought a book to Felipe’s room and read to unwind instead, but the look on Felipe’s face in the library had worried him. Dark circles had formed under his eyes, and within moments of getting comfortable on top of the coverlet, Felipe fell asleep with his head on Oliver’s chest and his arm slung across his stomach. Panic at being trapped there for hours was snuffed out by the warm feeling that bloomed when Oliver looked at Felipe’s lax face. The man he had pined after for years was attracted to him, too, and he was as lovely a person up close as he was from afar. He should be ecstatic, but he worried. How was he going to end this? As Felipe slept, Oliver focused on the thick band of energy coiled between their ribs. Every time he thought about wrapping a hand around it and giving it that final tug, something broke in him. Maybe after all this, after saying goodbye to his family and solving this case, Felipe Galvan would go willingly, but could Oliver let him go?
How could he let him go knowing how many people loved him? Knowing how much he was starting to love him.
When Felipe awoke looking and feeling far better, the dread that had pooled in Oliver’s belly was forgotten, but it was quickly replaced with nerves at the thought of meeting his family. It had been so long since he had one of those. By the time they reached East 17thStreet, Oliver felt ready to vibrate out of his skin.
“Can you remind me again about Louisa and Agatha?” Oliver blurted as they neared a brick townhouse where a woman’s silhouette passed behind the thin curtains.
“Louisa is the shorter one. She’s a jaguar shifter. Agatha is the taller one. She’s a plantmancer.” Taking two steps toward the stoop, Felipe winced at the frenzied barking within. “Well, we’ve been spotted. I forgot to mention the dogs. Pastel, the orange one, is a bit of an asshole, but she doesn’t bite. Usually. Kuchen, the black and brown one, will probably barely notice you’re there. Sometimes I swear she’s stuffed.”
Oliver’s face brightened. “They have dogs?”
“Should I have led with that?” Felipe asked, a bemused smile curling his lips.
“I really like dogs, and I can’t have one at the society.”
“Well, don’t worry, Pastel will cure you of that.”
Walking a step behind Felipe, Oliver followed him up to the stoop. Within seconds of ringing the bell, a statuesque blonde woman opened the door. For a stunned second, she merely stared at Felipe before her face erupted in a wide grin.
“I so hoped you would come, Felipe. Louisa said you were too stubborn to, but I set you a place anyway. Who’s this?”
“Agatha, this is Oliver Barlow. I know it’s short notice, but I hope you don’t mind that I’ve brought a friend with me,” Felipe said as Agatha ushered them inside.
Staring over Felipe’s shoulder, Agatha studied Oliver. Her gaze flickered between the two men as her smile turned knowing. When heat creeped up Oliver’s face, she barked a throaty laugh.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Oliver. We always have plenty leftover. I’ll let Louisa know you’re here. Felipe, can you take Oliver’s coat?”
With a final sly look over her shoulder, Agatha disappeared down the hall out of sight. Oliver’s throat tightened. He was probably overthinking this. He was definitely overthinking this, but the vast majority of people he spoke to were dead. What would he say? Felipe had said Louisa and Agatha were of the artistic set, as evinced by their beautifully appointed home, and he hadn’t had the chance to do any research or think of anything to talk about. Oliver jolted at the gentle brush of Felipe’s hand on his shoulder.
“Want to take off your coat?” Leaning closer and brushing his fingers against Oliver’s hand, Felipe dropped his voice to a whisper, “We can still leave if you want.”
Oliver twined his hand with his, relishing his grounding warmth. “I’ll be fine.”
Pulling off his scarf and coat, he hung them beside Felipe’s on the rack. Oliver followed Felipe down the hall to find the entrance to the parlor blocked by an angry dandelion fluff. The little orange dog tapped from foot to foot as it snarled and bark-snorted at Felipe, who rolled his eyes and tried to sidestep it only to find the dog’s teeth clamped onto his shoelaces. Oliver bit his lip against the laughter threatening to spill out.
