Hope, accomplishment, and pure joy wash over me. My eyes water, but this time out of pure happiness, not sadness. Love wraps her arms around me and squeezes.
“I knew you had it in you. Keep hitting targets like that and you’ll be the one getting an award next year at the Valentine’sDay Ball,” she says, and I shake off her boasting, but smile. “Man, I wish we could eat a turkey leg and drink some beer while we’re here.”
“I think I’d like to make more matches before we go home,” I tell her, and she grins.
I pat the four-leaf clover that’s tucked in my bra. I make a total of six matches at the fair, and I don’t think I’ve ever felt more accomplished in my immortal life.
My luck is changing indeed.
“Go over it again,” Love says as I stand in front of the mirror. We’re at one of the few boutiques in Purgatory, and fortunately, this one is just a short walk from the apartment complex we all live in.
Love gets a lot of odd looks when she’s in Purgatory, but she waves them all off easily.
“Don’t be too intimidating, but let her know that I’m flirting. Don’t crowd her, but also make sure I talk to her enough, so she knows I don’t want to just be friends. And most of all, don’t let her know that your ass has been the mastermind behind this whole fucking thing.”
She beams in the mirror and nods at the outfit.
“This is the one.”
“You’re sure?”
“Absolutely, the robes do nothing for you, no offense. Who knew you had such a hot bod under there?”
I laugh and shake my head as I roll the jacket’s sleeves to just below my elbows. The top is tight against my chest, and the pants cling to my skin. I flip my dark long hair to one side and look at myself in the mirror.
Confidence isn’t something I lack, but this outfit has me fully feeling myself.
I tug on the lapels of the jacket while Love is happily drinking the wine that the shop owner dropped off for her to sample.
“She really has no idea why you’re throwing a party?”
“It’s my and Death’s one-month anniversary, duh.”
“No, it’s not. That was three days ago on the 14th.”
“Then it’s St. Patrick’s day,” Love suggests.
“You didn’t get any decorations for St. Patrick’s Day,” I reply, and she shrugs.
“What do you want from me, Mors? I have a super-hot lady cupid I’m serving to you on a platter. All you have to do is not fuck it up.”
“What kind of things does she like?”
Love smiles, sipping her champagne. I can’t decide if my life is better or worse since Death brought this menace into it.
“Dessert, kittens, trashy human reality tv shows, and obviously the color pink.”
“And you haven’t told her anything about me?” I ask insecurely.
“She scares easily. She dated Eros too. She’s just been figuring out how to be a cupid. I think her confidence is finally high enough that she’s open to the possibility of dating someone.”
“Wait… Eros?” I spin, looking at the cupid. “Eros is a man.”
“Yes, and?”
“And you’re sure she’d be interested in me?”
Love’s wine glass clicks against the table. She might be small, but I swear the little cupid can be scarier than some reapers I know.
