Watching his expression closely, Felipe rubbed his leg and gave him a crooked frown. “Just think about it, and don’t let Turpin drive a wedge between you.”
“I know. I won’t. I also don’t want to drive a wedge between her and him. He is her boss.”
“He should have thought of that before he spoke to either of you,” Felipe replied as he stood and offered Oliver his hand.
Oliver let Felipe pull him to his feet only to sag against him in a tight hug. His partner smiled against his neck and kissed him, but as Oliver stepped back, he grimaced. His jacket and trousers were hopelessly rumbled from being curled in a ball for so long. He had purposely worn one of his colorful outfits because they were going out that evening and Turpin ruined it. He ruined Gwen’s outfit in that no one saw it, and now, no one would see his either. Checking his reflection in the mirror, Oliverlet out a pained groan. His red and puffy face looked bad, but his clothes looked even worse.
“I look like I got dragged behind a steamer.”
“It isn’t that bad.”
Oliver gave him a flat look. “I’m going to get changed. I can’t go to the charity bazaar looking like this.”
“You still want to go?”
It hadn’t even occurred to Oliver not to. Granted, his brain worked at half-steam after a breakdown, but going to the charity bazaar for an hour in place of going to Agatha and Louisa’s house for Sunday dinner didn’t feel like an onerous task. Visiting Agatha and Louisa was a part of his routine that he enjoyed, and while they would be at their friend’s gallery, he still wanted to spend time with them, even if going to the bazaar meant there would be lots of other people and noise that would have set his teeth on edge on a normal day. The one perk of having a breakdown was that it left him so emotionally spent that he was incapable of being anxious or feeling anything strongly for the rest of the day. There was the kind of being drained that made him feel like he was vibrating, but this kind made it feel like every feeling, apart from fatigue, had been drained out of him, leaving him hollow. It also left him with a crying headache, but coffee and time would take care of that.
Besides, Agatha and Louisa wouldn’t mind if he was a little quiet because of it; they were no stranger to Louisa’s taciturn moods. Agatha knew Oliver didn’t enjoy shopping and would probably be happy they came at all. For weeks, she had been talking about all the people who would be donating their work to the bazaar. Oliver had heard others at the society talk about the quilts and knit creations they planned to donate to the event, but Agatha had taken it upon herself to convince most of her artist friends to offer up a few small pieces or sketches that would sell well. Even Teresa had dropped off a stack of artwork for hermothers to donate to the event on her behalf when she came for Thanksgiving. There was a piece of hers that Oliver had his eye on. He knew he could have bought it straight from her, but the money from the bazaar was going to setting up a foundling’s home for the orphaned children of magical parents. Oliver easily could have been one of those children if his grandmother hadn’t taken care of him or if she hadn’t lived long enough to see him into adulthood.
At his silence, Felipe added, “We don’t have to go if you don’t feel up to it. Agatha and Louisa would understand.”
“I know, but I want to. For once, I feel like I need to get out and clear my head. I mean, a bazaar is like going shopping at the department store, and I can deal with an hour of that even with a headache. It shouldn’t be that taxing or chaotic, right?”
“If you’re sure, then, give me your clothes. I’ll give them a quick iron while you close your eyes, and afterward, we can have a little dinner up here and see if you’re still up for going. How does that sound?”
A small, grateful smile curled Oliver’s lips. He didn’t think he would need the out, but he still appreciated it. “Thank you, that sounds perfect.”
Felipe unwound his grey jacket from his shoulders, followed by his green waistcoat. Oliver had nearly unbuttoned his shirt when Felipe wrapped his arms around his middle and kissed his shoulder. He lingered a moment longer than usual, but when Oliver turned, Felipe gave him a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He undid Oliver’s trousers with chaste efficiency and gave him a nudge toward the bedroom when he stepped out of them. Grabbing his robe from beside the bedroom door, Oliver pulled it on and sank into his side of the bed. His body ached, and his eyes hurt as he pulled the covers up and buried his face into his pillow. Fatigue threatened to pull him under, but Oliver felt along the tether for Felipe. Buried beneath his heart, he felt abarbed knot of sinew again. Distantly, Oliver heard the rhythmic sweep of the iron running over wool as his eyes drooped. It wasn’t until he was on that fragile ledge between waking and sleeping that he realized Felipe hadn’t told him not to take up Turpin’s offer.
Chapter Thirteen
The Season of Giving
“Isn’t it marvelous?” Agatha said, catching Oliver and Felipe the second they left their hats and coats with the coatroom attendant and stepped into the holiday bazaar.
While Christmas was still several weeks away, Agatha looked straight out of a Christmas card with her brassy blonde hair set in lustrous curls studded with holly berries and an emerald gown with mutton sleeves that brought out the green in her hazel eyes. Standing a few feet behind her was Louisa in a matching red dress that was far more suited to her brown skin and black hair. Instead of her usual plain coiffure, Agatha had wound berries into her partner’s hair. Louisa gave Felipe a knowing look as she stepped out of the way to let more visitors push through while Agatha lingered in the way. The bazaar had only just begun, but the gallery’s atrium was already packed. As people pushed past them, Felipe instinctively eyed the space. The walls near the entrance had been decorated with cloth banners announcing the event and reminding everyone that their money would be going to orphaned children in case anyone tried to claim it was shopping rather than charity. At the center of the atrium, a watermancer sat near the massive fountain twisting the water into magnificent shapes and making bubbles for children as a string quartet played at the far end of the room on a makeshift stage.
That would have been fine if the length of the walls hadn’t been completely bedecked in boughs of evergreen and the corners crammed with Christmas trees. Felipe stared at the decorations in barely disguised horror as his heart beat loudly in his ears. Another year was ending. Another year he had wasted. Another year where nothing changed.No, he correcting, forcing his heart to slow. He had Oliver; his lifehadchanged. He was happier now, and things were better than they had been in years. Felipe’s chest tightened. Then, why did it feel like nothing had truly changed? In a few months, he would be forty-one. How could he let— Felipe bit back a flinch when Louisa nudged him in the ribs and stuffed a warm cup of mulled wine into his hand. He stared down at the cup in confusion, but when he drew in a long breath, he inhaling the familiar smell of red wine and a hint of brandy mixed with lemon, orange, cinnamon, and vanilla. For a moment, he was back at the ranch in Señor Quiñtero’s study on Christmas Eve. Taking a long sip, Felipe’s body relaxed a fraction. He couldn’t tell whether Louisa had made a particularly strong batch or if death had made him pay more attention to tastes and smells he had taken for granted.
“That’s really good,” Felipe said, his voice tight he as tried not to think of how much he missed Louisa’s father, even after all these years.
“It should be; my father’s recipe is the best.”
When he went to hand it back to her, she waved it off.
“You look like you need it more than I do, cariño.” When Agatha threaded her arm through Oliver’s and steered him deeper into the charity bazaar, Louisa and Felipe exchanged a glance before following them. As they walked, Louisa watched Felipe from the corner of her eye as he nursed his drink and said, “You look tired.”
You look tiredwas a nice way to say his crow’s feet were showing and his hair looked particularly grey at his temples, butshe wasn’t wrong. He could already feel a dull ache creeping into his bones despite having eaten a full meal before they left, but comforting two distressed people in a row had taken it out of him. Felipe watched Oliver smile and feign excitement as Agatha pointed out something in the next room. If Felipe focused on the tether, he could feel the fatigue dragging Oliver down like a weight, but at least the maelstrom of feelings had burnt itself out, though part of him wondered if it truly had or if it had merely passed to him.
“It’s been a rough day. For me and Oliver.”
“One of your cases?” Louisa asked, giving him an appraising look that bordered on disapproving.
“No, not this time. Someone at the society greatly upset Oliver this morning, so don’t be surprised if he’s a little quiet today. Right before that, I ended up talking down a late-turned werewolf who’s struggling to control his shifting. For a second, I thought he was going to shift in the middle of the archives.”
Louisa winced. “How old is he?”
“Seventeen when he turned, eighteen now. He’s been shifting for less than a year, but his family’s completely unsupportive and haven’t given him any guidance. He’s managed to fall through the cracks and has no pack of his own. I was hoping to speak to Theo Bisclavret tonight and see if he can help him.”
