Arthur turned back to Emma, who was folding her arms tightly over her Christmas sweater.
Arthur twitched with the urge to pry them apart. The intensity of it surprised him. He hadn’t thought about that in years—coaxing Emma’s soft side out, nuzzling her cheek, and joking with her until she finally relented. Her parents, for some strange reason, had taken a while to warm up to him. But watching him make her smile like that, all relaxed and giddy, was the thing that finally made them approve. Once, he’d been the only person who could pull Emma out of a truly terrible mood. Who could make her put down her snappish ways and admit what was really bothering her. Who could tease a laugh out of her even when she was raging. Now…
“Nice Christmas sweater,” he said.
She scowled. “You finally admit it! You always thought they were cute, you were just too chicken to wear them in case peoplejudgedyou. News flash, Christmas sweaters areadorable. Asshole.”
Arthur held back a smile. Same old Emma. Any time she felt an emotion she didn’t like, she buried it under a tidal wave of anger. It made sense that seeing him again would trigger all this scowling. He just had to dig deeper to get to the real stuff, like he used to.
Her gaze dropped toward his pants. “Thought you were working on that.”
“Working on what?”
She pointed. He looked down to see his tail…moving. A barely there back and forth as if swaying in a breeze.
Arthur fought back a wince. Tails were usually a dead giveaway for whatever the monster it was attached to was feeling. He prided himself on having an unusually still tail, only moving when a scene called for it.
He stilled it with a gracious laugh. “Down, boy. Thank you, I didn’t even notice. Must be Claw Haven—old habits.”
“Right,” Emma said suspiciously. Still glaring. Still crossing her arms over her chest so tight that the snowman looked like it was being strangled.
Arthur tried again. “How are your parents?”
“Fine,” Emma said stiffly. She hesitated. For a moment, Arthur thought she was going to give him more details, and he found himself surprisingly eager to hear them. He’d always liked her parents. He’d seen them more than his own parents in his teenage years.
“I’m gonna go,” Emma said instead.
She stood up, chair scraping noisily.
Before he could think better of it, he stepped in front of her, blocking her exit.
She rolled her eyes. “Move.”
He briefly thought about extending his wings, then noticed how many tables and chairs he’d knock over if he did. One thing winged monsters were taught young: Don’t get your wings out indoors unless you’re really,reallycareful.
“You always did love telling me no,” he mused.
“Somebody had to.” She gave him a tight, surprisingly tired smile. Then she pushed past him, shoving all her weight behind it. It took a lot for a human to make a chimera move.
He let her go, following her out into the snowy street. “Come on! I want to apologize.”
She shot him a loathsome look over her shoulder. “No, you don’t. You want to make yourself feel better.”
He held back a frown as he weaved around Christmas shoppers. He reallydidwant to apologize. She obviously hated his guts, and he couldn’t have that. And more than that, she clearly had a lot of unresolved issues around this. She wouldn’t be so angry if she didn’t. She’d been getting better with her anger before he left, and he’d assumed she’d keep working on it. Seeing her beyond thirty and still snapping at people who didn’t deserve it was…disconcerting. That employee back at the café, Hazel, had seemed genuinely scared of her. There was no way Emma wanted that.
“I really do want to apologize,” he called after her. “Our last talk didn’t go how I wanted it to.”
Emma walked into the street, almost getting sideswiped by a car.
Arthur jogged after her, shooting the driver an apologetic wave.
She stopped just before the sidewalk, Cozy Grotto Café right in front of her. He could see Rusty through the window talking to one of the camera crew. The lighting rig was set up, the extras were being directed to their seats, and a makeup artist was fixing his costar’s hair as she leaned on the counter, tapping away at her phone.
He knew he should go in. But all he could focus on was Emma, who turned to him with murder in her eyes.
“Oh,didn’tit?” she spat. “You mean the talk where youleftme onChristmas Eve? I had to go back to my parents and tell them why I was crying! You ruined Christmas!”
Arthur’s traitorous heart twisted in his chest. Hehatedthat he’d made her cry. She cried so rarely. He’d been shocked to see the first tear roll down her cheek as she yelled at him. Calling him a coward, a liar; vowing she’d never talk to him again.
