It’s too bad I don’t have the same fate ahead of me with my very own monster of a man.
Eros has disappeared, saying something about getting some last-minute details in place. He’s promised me that Aphrodite is still ensconced in her spa weekend—he even called to check in with her assistant earlier—but I can’t help worrying that she’ll show up in time to put a stop to this whole charade. But I trust Eros, at least in this.
When Aphrodite checks social media after her weekend away, there will be consequences, and they will come down on Eros’s shoulders. I can’t help feeling…bad for him.
My mother won’t be any happier when she finds out about this hasty marriage. I might not know the details of her plans for me, but they don’t include a marriage to Eros. That’s for damn sure. Even she can’t fight it once we’re legally bound together. But once she works through her anger? She’ll already be examining the angles for how she can spin the situation to benefit her.
On the surface, our mothers aren’t that different. Both are powerful and ambitious and ruthless to a fault.
The difference?
My mother might try to move me around like a pawn on the chessboard that is Olympus, but she actually loves me. She won’t let love get in the way of power, but she also wouldn’t expect me to show up for a party after being cut up and then be furious because I was late.
And there was the shell-shocked look on Eros’s face when he studied the photos of me and my sisters in the penthouse. It’s possible that I’m completely off the mark and projecting, but he looked almost flabbergasted at how happy we were in those photos. My childhood wasn’t perfect—Demeter is a difficult mother to have, even under the most ideal circumstances—but I had my sisters and we were happy a lot of the time. It wasn’t feigned in those photos.
What must it have been like to grow up with a mother who only saw him as a tool to be exploited and nothing else?
I give myself a shake. I’m projecting. I have to be. No matter how much I hate Aphrodite, surely I’m not seeing the whole picture. She must love her son, even if she demands such horrific things from him.
Right?
“Psyche? We don’t have much time.”
I push my wayward worries away and focus on my sister. “You’re right. Let’s get this started.”
We leave Hades in the living room, studying the place like he’s a general looking over a battlefield, and retreat to the spare bedroom to get me ready. Persephone keeps the conversation light as she pins my hair up in an artful style and I put my makeup on, but when it’s time to reach for the dress, she hesitates. “I know I’ve asked you this already, but are you sure?”
No. Not even a little bit. I wasn’t sure before this afternoon, but now that I’ve had Eros’s mouth all over me, I feel rattled right down to my bones. “Yes.”
My sister snorts. “I knew better than to ask.”
“Hey, let’s not throw stones. It was only a couple months ago that you shacked up with a man everyone thought was a legend and refused to let me help you.”
She lifts her chin. “That was different.”
“Maybe, but I trusted you to know what you were doing. You promised to give me the same benefit of the doubt.”
For a second, I think she might keep arguing, but she finally sighs. “I really don’t like the shoe being on the other foot.”
“It’s hard to stand by and let people you care about take risks.”
She gives me a bittersweet smile. “When did you get so smart?”
“I have two pretty great older sisters as role models.” My throat goes tight, and I have to turn away or I’m going to cry and ruin my makeup. This might not be the wedding of my dreams, but I’ll ensure it’s a believable one. I drop my robe and step into the gown, turning so my sister can fasten the back.
“This is really gorgeous. Not what I expected you’d choose, but it’s perfect.” She does me up quickly, her voice thick. “You look like a goddess.”
“Maybe a nymph.”
She laughs. “You always do that. If today’s your wedding, then you will damn well believe that you look like a goddess.”
There’s no point in arguing. The truth is that I do look good, and I did choose this dress with the intention of making a statement. It’s far too late to change my mind about this, just like it’s far too late to change my mind about the wedding itself. “You’re right. I look like a goddess.”
“There you go.” She looks away. “There’s one more thing.”
Alarms blare in my head. Persephone might not be as confrontational as Callisto, but she’s more than able to hold her own. For her to be exuding guilt right now… This won’t be good. “What did you do?”