A heaviness blankets the room for a moment until I gently push Darla toward the table. “Go sit. We’ll all eat lunch.”
“You sure?”
“Of course. Go on. I can pour soup and put out napkins.”
She pats my arm. “I knew I’d taught you well.”
As I make bowls of stew, Darla tells Chelsea all about her kids and her life, and Chelsea asks her what they like, how old are they.
When I place a bowl in front of her, she takes a moment to acknowledge me, smiling. “I didn’t know kings served soup.”
“Only on rare occasions,” I reply, smiling back.
“Only when hell freezes over or they just got married,” Darla says with a laugh.
And as I sit with them, I realize this feels good.
Better than good,Nightmare corrects.
It’s right. This feels better than that. It feels right, like this is how my life should always be.
When we finish, I tell Darla to take a break—I’ll clean up.
She lifts her brows. “You don’t have to tell me twice.”
Then she heads out of the kitchen and Chelsea joins me by the sink. “She really loves you.”
“Does she?” I ask, letting warm water run over my hands.
“She does.”
We stand there for a moment, staring at one another. I want to kiss her until I’m drunk. Take her again, right here, in the kitchen, but I’ll wait. Sometimes waiting is better.
She wraps an arm around my waist and drops her head to my shoulder.
I close my eyes and just soak up the moment, relish the feel of her touching me, her skin, her scent, all of her.
I’ve just sighed into her when Stave enters. “Sorry for the interruption.”
“You’re just the man I’m looking for.”
I shake my head as Chelsea straightens, pulling her arm away.
I’m officially pissed off at Stave.
Stave lifts his eyebrows. “Yes?”
“We need to search forher.”
Beside me, Chelsea stills.
He nods. “Done. I’ll send men out today.”
I turn back to Chelsea, but Stave hasn’t left. I frown. “What is it?”
He clasps his hands behind his back. “There was a magical surge last night. You might have felt it.”
Felt it? We created it.
