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He kissed me on the mouth, just as confidently, taking a few more seconds than necessary.
Vivienne had stopped talking. She set her wine glass down and approached us, her relaxed stride more calculated than she realized.
“Vivienne, this is Damian,” I said, smiling sweetly.
He reached out a hand.
She took it, her eyes on his.
He led her into a conversation about her wellness empire effortlessly, feigning interest when she spoke at length about how her palo santo candle cleansed the auric field.
After he’d elegantly flattered her nonexistent event planning, allowing her to shamelessly take the credit for the poolside choreography, she inclined her head, turning her wine glass, and said, “So you’re Marlowe’s…twin flame?”
He smiled warmly.
“I guess I am. I wish I could say it was my doing, but I think we both have Aurora to thank for that. And Marlowe’s power to manifest, of course,” he said, playfully nudging me.
“Not to mention you, Vivienne, for signing me up,” I added. I nodded toward Kai. “I’m so grateful for all the wonderful people I met there.”
“Oh?” she said, glancing at Kai.
“A friend of mine manifested him, too,” I said, winking at her. “She now refers to everything that happened before him as her old timeline.”
All three of us laughed. Vivienne’s eyes sparkled, then she wandered off to a cluster of guests. Caspian’s face was fighting for composure. He set down his plate and followed Vivienne into the mix.
“I’ll start working my way around the terrace,” Damian said under his breath, handing his glass to Kai, who was just back from revisiting Karen on her lounger. Kai filled his glass with Sauvignon Blanc.
“She’s a tough one,” he murmured. “Make sure you give her something to be right about.”
With quiet horror, I realized Kai’s tactics were just as exact and practiced as Damian’s. They both knew where the wounds were, and how to work them.
Blythe was hovering at the canapés, scrutinizing the tablescape. Damian honed in on her. I helped the caterers unpack more wine glasses and eavesdropped.
“You look underwhelmed by the flowers,” he said, leaning in like it was a private little joke.
She looked at him, a little wary, a little interested. “They’re slightly overdone. Too much symmetry. Like someone was trying too hard to make it look expensive.”
Damian nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah, I can see that. The calla lilies, right?”
“No, those are fine. The aspidistra,” she said.
Caspian arrived precisely at the wrong moment, placing a hand on Blythe’s shoulder like she was revered property.
“Blythe, are you okay? I’ve noticed a shift in your energy field. Are you overstimulated?”
I nearly snorted.
She politely swatted him away.
“You’re right about the aspidistra,” Damian said casually, then left her by the black-sesame gougères.
He continued working the terrace, comfortably weaving through the crowd with his glass in his hand as if he was lazily on his way somewhere, stopping to talk wherever there was an opening. I watched him with awe and a little fury.
He neared Davina, who was perched on a chair at the far end of the terrace by the lemon trees, already looking peripheral.
Leaning against a wall near her chair, he said something to her, out of earshot. At first she only answered briefly. Then he spoke again, and her hands began to move. She leaned forward. Then she talked for four uninterrupted minutes.
Damian spoke again, and by some sort of miracle, Davina laughed a real laugh. She turned her chair toward him.
