Sarelia’s giggles settle, but her mirth does not. It sparkles at me through hazel eyes as she pokes the potatoes to Stryker’s side of the table.
Basil snorts.
Expression soft enough to put me on edge, Sarelia directs her slaying words to me. “The first video I ever saw of you was a charity livestream. It was for sick little kids living in hospitals, to get them gaming systems so that they could have a bit of bright and normal in their often dark and always abnormal lives. They were interviewing someone else—one of the older CubeCraft players—and you were in the background. There was this little girl in a dress with sunflowers all over it, and you were putting a daisy-chain crown on her. I don’t know where you would have even gotten the flowers from, but I saw clips online later of you weaving it together in the background of different player’s streams. You were never purposefully on camera with it, and I never got the vibe that you would have been happy to know that the moment was captured for everyone to see, but watching the little girl’s face light up when you set her crown on her head sparked something for me. I wanted to know who the sweet man was that could make a sick princess smile like that.”
Heat suffuses my skin as blood rushes like lightning beneath it. Sarelia’s eyes shimmer with earnestness, and my fingers all but crush hers as I fight for control of my body and mind, both of which scream at me toKiss her. Worship her. Praise her.
I just decide that self-denial and the glorious inner struggle that it brings could never be as delicious as Saralia’s mouth on mine when a sniffle across the table reels me back to Earth.
“Okay, well, maybe that is kind of sweet,” Millie hiccups.
Sarelia starts, eyes darting to our tablemates.
Ah, so I am not the only one who forgot we aren’t alone.
“Her name was Clementine,” I offer, voice gruff. “She had a brain tumor, so I told her I was making it pretty.” Sarelia’s free hand lands on top of our laced fingers, and I entangle it in the fold as well.
“She was very pretty,” she says. “Prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”
I nod. She was undoubtedly the prettiest girl anyone had ever seen.
“She didn’t make it?” Basil asks, scowling at the table.
My nostrils flare. “She did not.”
The air thickens with the weight of grief for a girl that none of them ever met, and my eyes wet as I’m reminded not for the first time of why I settled here—why Istaysettled here.
These aregoodpeople.
“Her parents set up a foundation in her name,” Sarelia says. “They raise a lot of money, and it all goes toward research and financial aid for other sick children.” She clears her throat, cheeks warm. “Archie donates to it every year, and I do, too. I guess nowwewill donate.”
My family offers to add their donations to ours, and I snort. “You’ve all already been donating,” I tell them. “Don’t worry.”
They are, quite suddenly and with no explanation whatsoever, no longer interested in donating to the cause.
“I think if none of us noticed tens of thousands of dollars being funneled out of our accounts every year, we probably can’t complain too much about Archie taking matters into his own hands,” Sal speaks reason into the cacophony of complaints. “And I’m especially not going to complain about him throwing it at sick babies. You want the satisfaction of throwing money at sick babies yourself? Then pay better attention to your finances.”
I grin at Sal, my favorite not-uncle.
He grins back, his unfortunate case of crazy eyes looking particularly wild in the light of the setting sun.
“Stop hacking into my systems,” Stryker orders despite Sal’s unshakeable logic. “I’m sick of telling you this.”
I roll my eyes his way. “And yet, your firewalls do not improve.”
His glare would maybe be scary if I were not a recently married man. “You’re not going to give a man a black eye on his honeymoon, are you?” I ask. “Because Sarelia has barely had any time to enjoy my face up close like this. You wouldn’t want to ruin her post-wedding glow, would you?”
He doesn’t answer me, but he doesn’t punch me either, and that is kind of an answer in and of itself.
“Can we have cake now?” Millie asks. “Surely after Archie and Sarelia bring down the mood, we can take a beeline to the cake. Rosie?”
Rosie sighs.
Heidi’s jaw drops. “That was a yes!” she sputters, head swinging to address Millie. “She said yes!”
Millie’s eyes widen, and she turns to Sarelia. “You aren’t allowed to skip any dinners,” she says. “And I require that you bring up something depressing at all of them, okay? The more depressing, the better. Maybe we can get her to let us have cake first!”
Rosie’s head shakes, and Millie bounces in her seat. “That’s not a no!”
