“This is what marriage is like, Kaci.” Faythe sipped from her mug. “Marriage is kids—if you want them—and messes, and sleep deprivation, and compromise, and seeing each other go to the bathroom. It’s cleaning up vomit at three am. It’s all-night fever watches, and coffee breath, and arguing over who was supposed to pay the electricbill.”
I shrugged. “Yeah, but it’s also making out on your desk when you think no one’slooking.”
Faythe’s brows rose. “Marriage for shifters is also being comfortable enough in your relationship to be okay with the fact that there’s very littleprivacy.”
“I know you’re trying to scare me away from Justus, but I want all of those things. Well, not all of them. But I’m willing to deal with the vomit and the open bathroom door if I get all the rest of it. Withhim.”
She sighed. “I’m not trying to scare you away from Justus. I just want you to understand what you’re getting into. The reality, not the whirlwind trip to Vegas and thehugering. And I want you to understand that even if you stay married, there’s no rush for kids. You can and should still go to school first. As should he. You should figure out who you are as individuals—and as a couple—before you start making brand new people. Eighteen isreallyyoung,Kaci.”
“I know.” I fought not to roll myeyes.
“You may think you know,but—”
“Faythe.” I turned to fully face her on the step. “I hear you. Kids can wait. College shouldn’t. I’m agreeing with you, so you can stop trying to convinceme.”
She nodded. Then she took another long sip from her mug with her brows furrowed. “It’s just that…I’m not sure how you could possibly be eighteen already. I swear you were thirteen yesterday. And if you’re ready to be married, then you probably don’t need a mother-figure anymore,so—”
“I still need you, Faythe. I just need you at a little bit of adistance.”
She smiled. “Well, you still have me. At a little bit ofa—”
The door squealed open again, and I spun, sloshing coffee over my hand, just as Justus stepped onto the porch. The moment he saw me, he threw both hands in the air in a triumphant gesture. “Not criminally responsible for my actions due to psychologicaltrauma!”
I set my mug down and threw myself athim.
He laughed as he lifted me in a hug. “You do realize they basically just said I was too irresponsible to be held accountable for my own actions,right?”
“That isnotwhat they meant.” I dropped a kiss on his mouth, then let myself slide down his body until my feet touched the porch. “Does that mean there’s nosentence?”
Justus frowned. “What on earth is hedoing?”
I followed his gaze to the grass, where little Greg was still trying desperately to get his Frisbee airborne. “Justus! Your sentence!” Idemanded.
He laughed again. “One year of service as an enforcer, without pay.” As if he needed a salary. “It’s so that I’m ‘properly trained’ to triumph over my own impulses andurges.”
Unease settled through me. “Where?” What if they were sending him to the Northwest Territory? Or the New England Territory? Or anywhere too far for me to drive to everyweekend?
Instead of answering, he turned to Faythe with an expectantlook.
She smiled. “He’s replacingBrian.”
“At home?” I squealed. “Youknew!”
Faythe shrugged. “It was Marc’sidea.”
“Thank you!” I dropped into a squat and threw my arms aroundher.
She laughed. “We figured the best way to keep you around a little longer was to keep Justusclose.”
“Thanks, Faythe.” Justus tugged me up by one arm. “We’ll see youtomorrow.”
“What?” I frowned at themboth.
“Yup. Here you go.” Faythe leaned back and dug a set of keys from her pocket, then dropped them in his palm. “Fill the tank on your way back,please.”
“Will do.” Justus led me down the steps toward one of the rental cars lined up in thedriveway.
“Where are we going?” I asked as he opened the passenger’s sidedoor.
