Victor slid in beside Ava. “Congratulations.”
“You knew,” Ava accused him.
“I may have helped with logistics.”
Her father emerged from the kitchen carrying plates. Soup dumplings, bok choy, mapo tofu. Too much food, as always.
They ate family-style, dishes passing back and forth. Her mother interrogated Emma about wedding plans. Her father watched Victor eat, still taking his measure after all this time.
“October,” Emma was saying. “Small ceremony. Mia and Ava as co-maids of honor.”
“We already have the dresses picked out,” Mia added. “Well, I picked them. Ava vetoed three.”
“They had sequins. Floor-to-ceiling sequins.”
“It’s a wedding! Sequins are festive!”
“And Victor as best man,” Derek added.
Victor paused. “I don’t do weddings.”
“You do now.” Derek’s voice was firm. “You’re standing up there.”
“I’d be honored.”
After dinner, they lingered over tea. Mia left first, rushing to a callback.
“Text me later,” she said, hugging Ava. “About the house thing.”
“What house thing?” Emma asked.
Mia just grinned and disappeared.
Derek and Emma left next. Then it was just Ava and Victor, helping her parents clean up.
Her father washed while Victor dried. Six months ago, he’d barely been able to look at Victor. Now they had their own rhythm—small talk about the restaurant, questions about work that carefully avoided the demonic parts.
At the door, her father pulled Ava into a hug.
“You look happy,” he said.
“I am.”
He released her, nodded once at Victor, and closed the door.
They walked toward the subway. Sunday evening in Queens—families on stoops, kids being called inside for bed.
“I want to show you something,” Victor said after a few blocks.
He led her down a side street. Quieter here. Trees lining the sidewalk, brownstones with small gardens.
Victor stopped in front of one. Three stories, brick, a little worn. A tree in the front yard that might bloom in a few weeks.
“What do you think?” he asked.
“It’s nice. Whose is it?”
He held up a key.
