Trick or Treat for the Vexed Vampire
Page 91
Popcorn spilled toward the gravel as Carolina jumped and knocked the champagne bottle sideways. My hands moved before conscious thought could catch up. I caught the bowl, the bottle, and every last kernel.
Nothing touched the ground.
“Grace,” I said smugly.
The folding chair beneath me collapsed.
“Shitty furniture,” Carolina corrected.
I landed on my back on the blanket, laughing, while she stood over me with her red hair lit gold by the projector and absolutely no sympathy on her beautiful face.
“You planned that.”
“I planned champagne, a movie, and seduction. The chair volunteered chaos.”
“Arrhythmia furniture remains committed to keeping me humble.”
She offered me her hand.
I took it, but instead of allowing her to pull me up, I tugged her down onto the blanket. Her laughter disappeared beneath my kiss.
On our first visit to the drive-in, neither of us had been brave enough to name the future we wanted.
Now that future included a storefront filled with practical magic, dinners with a terrifying mother, friends who weaponized sarcasm, and an apartment where Carolina’s boots had conquered nearly every available inch of floor space.
It wasn’t the future I would have imagined when I was human.
It was better.
Carolina rested her chin on my chest. Light from the movie flickered across her face, turning her skin silver and then gold.
“You remembered what I told you here,” she said.
“About Second Chances? Of course I remembered.”
“I thought it was a fantasy.”
“So did I. Then you opened the door and started selling anti-nightmare charms beside a laundry spell with a personal vendetta against socks.”
“My professional legacy.”
“It’s a strong brand.”
Her smile softened. “I spent our entire first date pretending I wasn’t imagining this.”
“The shop?”
“This.” She gestured between us. “You beside me. A future that belonged to me instead of my mother. I wanted it before I believed I was allowed to want anything.”
I threaded my fingers through hers.
Once, I would have credited fate, the bond, or ancient magic. Anything that made happiness feel inevitable enough that I couldn’t lose it.
“You built that future,” I said. “I mostly supplied fangs and catastrophic decision-making.”
“You supplied a choice.” Her fingers tightened around mine. “Every day after fate shoved us together, you chose me.”
The distinction mattered.