Page 9 of Out of Sight

“No. You are a dad and a husband. I don’t want to get you in trouble.” Ted smiled. “There’s a twist, huh?”

He smiled and ran his thumb over her cheek. “Love the hair.”

“Thanks. I have a great braider who sits with me the whole time. Small room. She never lost sight of me. Important when it takes hours and hours, but the braids last a long time. At least I have gotten over my hot pink weave fascination.”

He barked a laugh and hugged her. “I think your phone is going to blow.”

She lifted it and smiled. “One hundred twenty people just remembered me.” She laughed and sniffled. “They can remember me.”

He hugged her again like he was making up for lost time.

Ted looked at him. “I feel like I can breathe again.”

Mik spoke, “Ted, we need to talk.”

Win walked up to her and pressed something small into her hand.

Ted froze as glyphs and icons burned into her mind. “Oh, dear.”

She woodenly extended her hand, and Win caught the USB drive. Win asked, “How much can you use?”

Ted looked at her. “All of it.”

Win and Mik stared at her. “All of it?” Mik whispered.

Ted looked at her, knowing her eyes were swirling with colour.

“Oh shit.” Mik smiled weakly. “Well, I think we know why you survived the curse.”

Ted looked at the three magical creatures looking at her and did something she hadn’t done in years. She giggled.

Ted leaned down and picked up Aurora. “Cousin Ted is a little much.”

Aurora sighed and leaned against her.

Regis cleared her throat. “Right. Desserts are waiting. And coffee.”

Ted perked up. “Dessert?”

Regis laughed. “I know that a power burn gives a heavy sugar craving; you four must be ready to eat a pound of sugar.”

Arwell, Win, Mik, and Ted all shrugged and nodded. Everyone headed inside, and Ted was still carrying her little cousin. Nora and Sabin walked with them while Avor still asked Sabin about the app.

Ted grinned. They were remembering her.

She looked at her phone and the texts and exhaled, answering one, smiling.

Arwell smiled. “Who is that?”

“Nemia Marlon.”

Arwell blinked. “Holy shit. Where has she been?”

“She said she is having some trouble being a person of colour.” The joke was from a vacation when Nemia had gotten super sunburned, and Therese had been shocked and then howled with amusement. It had been the closest the Scandinavian-born woman had ever been to tanned. It had been as much colour as she could get.

Arwell frowned. “What?”

A woman with skin the colour of dried blood walked into the kitchen, causing silence to ripple in the room. “I said I am having trouble being a person of colour, dumbass.”