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I love my family.

I love Stevie.

I love money.

I even love my fish Eloise, though I would rather die than admit it.

But happiness?

That’s… hard.

Finally, I shrug.

“I guess. The world hasn’t blown up yet.”

Mom closes her eyes. “Oh, gremlin.”

“What?”

“That isn’t happiness.”

“It is for me.”

Mom laughs so hard she nearly spills her mimosa.

I don’t understand why she finds it so amusing.

The continued existence of civilization seems like a reasonable standard.

When she finally recovers, she squeezes my hand tenderly.

“You know,” she says softly, “one day someone is going to make you feel everything at once.”

Absolutely not.

“That sounds exhausting.”

“Oh, it is.”

She takes a pause and then adds. “Me and Olivia have been talking and she believes her son Jude⁠—”

Olivia as in Olivia Pembroke and her son His majesty Prince Jude IV of the House of Greymere from England.

Leave it to my mother to try to push his Royal ass on me because she thinks I’m not happy and my happiness means I need a man.

“Pass.”

“Maybe if you give it a⁠—”

“No.”

“I just want you to meet people.”

“Mother, I have enough people.”

“You avoid humanity like the plague, Artemis. If it’s not work you don’t indulge in social norms.”

“And there’s no better way to live.”