“You’re someone who understands about love and committing to one woman,” Myles says.
Not taking away from his manliness at all, Carrick’s smile actually goes a little soft, his gaze flicking to mine. “Yeah… I do.”
Thinking that was the end of a brief but sweet conversation about true love, Carrick turns his attention back to his fajita.
But Myles isn’t done apparently. “As such,” he drawls, waiting for Carrick to look at him again. “I would like to formally request that you be my best man at the wedding, not only because it makes sense since Finley is the maid of honor, but also because you are understanding and I would like you by my side.”
Holy cow. I’m not prepared for the emotion that overwhelms me that Myles would select Carrick because he admires—of all things—his heart.
Carrick is clearly stunned as evidenced by the few scant seconds he doesn’t say anything before finally saying in a gruff voice, “Yeah… man. I’d be glad to stand up there with you.”
“Aww.” I lean over and loop my arm into Carrick’s, causing him to lose purchase on the fajita. It lands on his plate, but I ignore it, leaning my head on his shoulder and patting his chest. “You’re the sweetest ever.”
“Whatever,” Carrick mutters, pulling free so he can piece his fajita back together. “I know Myles was just waiting to ask me when all of you were around so I couldn’t decline.”
“That’s actually a true statement,” Myles admits with a firm nod of his head. Then he grins at Carrick. “But I actually do want you to be the one up there with me.”
This devolves into Maddox teasing Carrick about tuxedo shopping and an offering to throw a bachelor party, to which Rainey and I both exclaim, “No!”
Myles asks Maddox just for posterity, “What exactly did you have in mind for a bachelor party?”
Maddox claps Myles on the shoulder—a little too hard, which causes his fajita to go tumbling to his plate—and winks. “Ever see the movie The Hangover?”
This devolves into a weird bonding moment between Maddox and Myles, who apparently both rate The Hangover in one of their top three films, which actually makes me a bit embarrassed to admit they’re my friends.
My phone starts ringing, and I glance down to see Boral’s name and number on my screen. He’d taken to contacting me with any information because, in his words, “I’m the nicest to talk to.”
Not that politeness matters to a Dark Fae who includes rape, pillaging, and serial killing in his list of hobbies, but I get what he’s saying.
I’m the only one giving him a true chance.
“Hold up, guys,” I say above Maddox cackling over something Myles says. “It’s Boral, and he probably has an update.”
It immediately goes silent and I connect the call, putting it on speakerphone. “Hey… you’re on speaker and everyone is here.”
It’s a subtle warning to not say anything he doesn’t want any of the others to hear. Not that he would hide information about the prophecy from them, but he might go off on how much disdain he has for Carrick or how much he longs for a chance with his son, which would be totally awkward for everyone.
“Good,” Boral replies. “I’ve got some important stuff for you to hear.”
I rest the phone on the center of the island as my eyes lift to Zaid’s, which hold the usual amount of suspicion against his father within them. Everyone hunches in a bit closer to listen.
And just like that, our family gathering where we were celebrating food and true love turns to business.
“I’ve got some news on the twelfth front,” he says, referring to the twelfth Dark Fae original that Kymaris has been trying to add to her collection for the ritual. “She can’t find a twelfth, despite trying the same summoning ritual that you had witnessed her doing and sending her daemons out all over the world.”
“Why isn’t it working?” I ask, intrigued by the possibility she’s getting weaker somehow.
“Word is out among our kind that she summoned Dark Fae to her by killing offspring. For those who sired daemons, it’s not sitting well she’s murdering children. For those without, it’s not sitting well she’s killing to force the original fallen back to her side. You have to remember, most Dark Fae who have escaped the Underworld don’t want anything to do with the possibility of going back or helping Kymaris. She wasn’t exactly a benevolent ruler. My assumption is that they’ve gone into deep hiding, possibly in other realms, or they’ve got some solid protection spells in place she can’t break. Regardless, she’s been frustrated.”
“This is great news,” I exclaim, happy Boral might be proving his worth.
“Not necessarily,” he says grimly, and my elation deflates. “Kaesar said she’s giving up trying to find one here. Apparently, her backup plan is to just summon a Dark Fae from the Underworld to serve as the twelfth.”