“Besides,” Ziggy added as we approached the building, “some of us enjoy the drama of terrible first dates. It gives me material for my art.”
“Your last installation was literally called ‘Trauma Dump: First Date Edition.’”
“And it got rave reviews!” He held the door open for me with a flourish. “Creating from my pain is my superpower.”
We stepped into the bright, airy reception area, staff members moved between cutting tables and dress forms, some sketching, others draping fabric over mannequins.
“Hey, Jade! He’s in the back studio with the little one.”
“Thanks, Eliza.” I smiled, warmed as always by the casual acceptance I’d found here.
Unlike Trevor, who had isolated me from friends and colleagues, Magnur had incorporated me into his world without hesitation. His staff, many of them supernatural beings themselves, had accepted me as part of their boss’s life from day one, treating me with a respect that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with genuine affection.
Ziggy and I wound our way through the busy workspace, nodding to familiar faces as we passed. A young apprentice grinned and pointed toward the back studio, mouthing “so cute” with an expression that told me exactly what we were about to find.
The door to Magnur’s private studio stood slightly ajar, and I paused in the opening, my breath catching at the sight before me. My demon mate sat cross-legged on the polished concrete floor, his shoulders hunched slightly as he bent over our daughter with intense concentration. She lay on a blanket before him, tiny arms and legs kicking excitedly as he carefully adjusted the pleats on a dress the color of crushed blackberries.
“There we go, little star,” he murmured, his deep voice softened to a gentle rumble. “Perfect. Just like you.”
Our daughter, two months old and already showing signs of her father’s otherworldly heritage in the slight reddish gleam of her eyes when she was excited, gurgled happily in response.
Behind me, I heard Ziggy’s soft intake of breath. For all his dramatic declarations and sarcastic commentary, he melted completely around our daughter. We all did. How could we not? She was the the living embodiment of everything Magnur and I had fought for.
I leaned against the doorframe, drinking in the sight of them. The scars that marked Magnur’s body were visible where he’d rolled up his sleeves. Once, they had been markers of his pain. Now, they were simply part of the map that had led him to us, tothis moment, to the tiny hands reaching up to grasp his fingers with complete trust.
Magnur looked up, his eyes finding mine instantly across the room. He set aside the tiny accessory he’d been adjusting and scooped up our daughter.
“Look who’s here, little star,” he murmured to her, rising to his full height. She looked so small against his chest, her dark curls a stark contrast to the crisp white of his button-down shirt.
“We’ve been perfecting her ensemble,” he announced, approaching us with pride evident in every line of his body. “The pleating on this dress is hand-stitched silk organza over a cotton base for comfort. The color brings out the warmth in her skin tone.”
He turned slightly so we could better appreciate the full effect of the tiny blackberry-colored dress with its intricate pleats and delicate embroidery.
“The hemline is slightly asymmetrical,” he continued. “It creates movement when she kicks, which she seems to enjoy.”
As if on cue, our daughter’s legs pumped excitedly, making the dress flutter. Her eyes fixed on me, and her face lit up with recognition.
“Ba-ba-ba,” she babbled, reaching toward me with grabbing motions of her fingers.
“I think she’s critiquing your accessory choices,” I teased, stepping forward to stroke her cheek. “Maybe she wants a statement necklace to complete the look.”
Magnur’s expression was so genuinely horrified that I burst out laughing.
“Absolutely not,” he said with complete seriousness. “Necklaces are choking hazards. I’ve researched this extensively.”
“Of course you have.” I grinned, leaning up to press a kiss to his jaw.
Ziggy stepped forward. “Alright, that’s enough,” he announced, reaching for the baby. “Give me my niece. You two are about to get embarrassing, and she‘s too young to be traumatized by her parents making googly eyes at each other.”
Magnur hesitated for a fraction of a second before carefully transferring her into Ziggy’s waiting arms.
“Hello, gorgeous girl! Look at this dress your daddy made you. Yes, it’s very fancy, isn’t it? Much nicer than anything he’s ever made for me, and I’ve known him longer than you have.”
Our daughter gurgled happily in response, delighted by Ziggy’s exaggerated expressions and sing-song voice. With the baby thoroughly distracted, Magnur turned his full attention to me, pulling me closer until I was enveloped in the familiar warmth of his body. One hand settled at the small of my back, the other coming up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.
“I missed you,” he murmured.
I laughed softly, my hands resting against his chest. “I was gone for three hours. Just lunch with my mom and Ziggy.”
