“I hear that Xolotl’s working for Aunt Helen.” Izzy shakes her head. “When you know how badly I need a translator. We’d double whatever they’re paying.”
“They use him like three or four hours a day,” I say. “You’d want him around the clock.”
Izzy huffs. “Fine, fine. Stay in the USA. Whatever.”
I laugh. “You’re the one who fell for a Russian dictator.”
“He’s not a dictator,” she hiss-whispers, as if anyone here cares what she says.
“A little bit, I am.” Leonid walks into the room, spreads his arms wide, and claps. “You really did it, transitioning from. . .” He clears his throat, smiling at my fiancé broadly. “Transitioning to American life perfectly.”
“Thanks,” Xolotl says. “It’s been interesting.”
“Life with the Brooks women always is.” Leonid’s grin is now more conspiratorial than anything else.
“I kind of hate how well they’re getting along,” I say.
“Me too.” Izzy frowns. “I don’t trust it.”
We’re rushed off to a state dinner after that, and whether he’s on the payroll or not, Xolotl’s stuck helping in at least three different disagreements, and he definitely does as much negotiating as he does translation. “You’re supposed to be enjoying yourself,” I say as he sits down again.
“This is fun,” he says. “I like to be useful.”
“Your boy likes to work hard,” Gabe says. “That’s why you should let me take him by Ekati, like we were talking about earlier.”
“No way,” I say. “Neither of you is leaving the wedding to harvest more diamonds.” I poke my finger at Gabe. “We refilled your account with more than three times the amount that you had in your college fund before. Stop asking.”
“You did that from the sale of one measly stone,” he hisses. “Come on. He said it was fine.”
I roll my eyes. “Xolotl always says yes to you, but guess what? He’s more afraid of me.”
Xolotl nods. “That’s true.”
Gabe mutters profanities under his breath, but I ignore them. Little brothers are the worst.
As if on cue, my youngest brother, Nathan, shoots through the dining room, an uninvited guest, as most of the state officials would have no idea what to say to a ten-year-old boy who only speaks English, and he’s holding a gun. Only when he hits the trigger do I realize it’s a pellet gun. Even so, the little Russian kid he’s found squeals when he’s hit.
“Nathan!” Izzy’s voice cuts through all the murmuring in the room. “Go to your room. Mom’s going to talk to you later.”
Nathan sneaks off, eyes downcast, his new friend in tow.
“I actually feel sorry for him,” Xolotl says. “Izzy, you, and your mom. Three mothers would be difficult.” He’s smiling, though. Sometimes I think he wishes he had a mother of his own. At least our mother has taken him under her wing.
That night, when the vodka starts flowing, I swear, the horse shifters are the worst and the rowdiest of all the people in the room. You’d never know it the next morning, though. I have a splitting headache, but when I show up for the actual ceremony, all the shifters look dewy and radiant.
“Why don’t you lot look half-dead, like I feel?” I ask Leonid on my way to the dressing room in the back where Izzy’s prepping. “I saw you drink at least twice as much as me.”
“Shifter metabolism.” He winks. “Looks like your death god has it, too.”
I follow his gaze to where Xolotl just walked in, wearing a tuxedo. With his hair trimmed shorter, and his vibrant blue eyes, his chiseled jaw, and his faint beard-shadow, I nearly can’t breathe. Men like him shouldn’t be allowed to wear tuxes. I blow him a kiss, and then I beeline for Izzy’s dressing room. If I stop now, I might not ever leave his side, and as the maid of honor, I have to go tell Izzy she looks great.
I’m sure she does. She always does, even if she hates makeup. She’s lucky that she doesn’t need it, with her classic beauty. Only, when I get inside, her face is swelled up like she recently took up boxing.
And she’s bad at it.
“What on earth happened?”
“Something stung me!” she says.
