“I love you,” I whisper, more tears rolling down my cheeks. Lucas wipes them away and kisses me.
“Do you have a frame?”
“A frame? Oh, for the picture.” I look into the office at my cluttered bookshelf. “Yeah. We can use one of those for now.”
Lucas kisses me once more and goes into the office, picking up a dusty picture frame. The photo inside is several years old, and is of Kristy and me at a local author event we hosted at our store. Lucas puts the picture of my mother inside and dusts off the glass with his fingers.
“There. It’s safe.”
“Yeah.” I put my finger over my mother’s face and close my eyes, sniffling. “Fuck, I’m a mess.”
“I believe you referred to yourself as a hot mess, and I have to agree.” Lucas snakes his arms around me, picking me up and carrying me to the couch. Another gust of wind presses against the window, and thunder rumbles in the distance.
“Do you think he heard me talking last night?” I put the photo on the coffee table, unable to take my eyes off of it. “Michael, I mean.”
“Maybe. Or maybe he knows how much you needed this right now.”
“Yeah. Maybe.” I reach for the blanket I keep over the back of the couch and remember I left it in the kitchen last night. “I’d prefer that. I don’t like anyone listening in, and if he can hear me, then I think Lucifer can too. I thought I had to specifically direct my thoughts to them, like a prayer.”
“You need a Magneto helmet.”
“You’re such a nerd,” I tease. “Though if you find a helmet that blocks out telepathy, I wouldn’t turn it down.”
Lucas chuckles. “You and me both.”
I curl my legs up and inch closer to Lucas. “I wonder if anyone from my coven would recognize her.”
“It’s worth asking…as long as you think it’s a good idea.”
“I don’t see why it wouldn’t be. If someone knows who she is, I could find out more about that side of my family.”
“Then bring the photo when you go to the Feast of the Blood Moon.”
“I will.” I stare at my mother’s smiling face. “I have so many questions,” I sigh. “Was she able to tell anyone about Michael? Did her friends and family know the real reason for her death? And if they knew she was pregnant, did they wonder what happened to her baby?” I roll my head to the side, stretching out my neck. “I suppose none of it matters. It won’t make a difference to anything, anyway. And if I did find my grandparents or something crazy like that, it’s not like I can just walk up and introduce myself. They’ll want to know who my father was, and I know I could lie, but I’m tired of all these lies.”
“I know,” Lucas says gently. My stomach is a little unsettled since I haven’t taken any morning sickness potion yet today. Rain starts to patter against the windows, making me get up and let Scarlet out before it starts pouring. She dashes inside right as the clouds open up, dumping rain down on us.
“This is the last of the bacon,” Lucas tells me.
“I’ll go grocery shopping later.” I turn my gaze to the window. “When there’s a break in the rain.”
“You don’t have to,” he reminds me. “You can order groceries, or I can send Monica.”
“Yeah,” I say and pull my shirt tight over my waist, looking to see if I look pregnant yet. I don’t. Shocker, I know. “I would say I don’t want to order groceries because you can’t have wine delivered with your grocery order, but that doesn’t matter anymore.” I run my hand over my stomach, mentally saying goodbye to my abs, and heavily sit in a chair at the table. “Figures Lucifer waits until I can’t drink to bust his ass out of Hell. Because I could really use a drink right now. I might even skip the Moscato and go right for the vodka.”
Lucas looks at me over his shoulder, frowning. He’s not one to judge me for indulging myself. Lord knows he’s the king of indulgence, but even he’s noted on my unhealthy coping mechanism of drinking my troubles away.
In the back of my mind, I know it’s an issue, but my whole life has been one big issue after another. Which stems right back to me not actually dealing with my issues, rather ignoring them, hoping they’ll just go away on their own.
“After the baby is born, I’m going on a bender,” I only half joke. “Well, unless I breastfeed.” I shudder and bring my hands to my breasts. “I love my boobs. They’re so firm and perky. I’ve been so blessed in the tit department, I don’t want to mess it up.”