paper piles
and focused on whatever business shit he’d called up on his laptop.
Lily ran her thumb along the band of her engagement ring. She had to quit putting
this off. The wedding was two months, one week, and two days away. Tonight, she promised
herself, after she ate. She’d bring it up tonight.
Rule looked pretty involved with his business shit. “Where’s Toby?” she asked, taking
her first bite of lasagna.
“He and Emmy are spending the night at Danny’s.”
“But he had a spend-the-night here just last night.”
“It’s Christmas vacation,” Rule said without looking away from the computer.
Until recently Lily hadn’t known she had a parenting style. After Rule gained custody
of his son last summer, she’d learned that she did, and it was very different from
Rule’s. Her parents had seen sleepovers as a privilege to be earned, certainly not
something that could happen two nights in a row. As for mixed-sex slumber parties…Lily
had to grin, thinking of her mother’s reaction to that notion.
But Toby was not interested in girls as girls. He liked Emmy the same way he liked
Danny and Michael and half-a-dozen others. That would change, and Rule would know
when it did. The hormonal tumult of puberty was as unsubtle in its scent, Rule said,
as it was in its effects.
Lily stopped shoveling in pasta long enough to sip some of a Merlot Rule had thought
she’d enjoy. This was the lasagna’s second warm-up, but it was still good. After all,
it was, as Toby would say,
Carl’s
lasagna. Isen’s houseman kept the freezer stocked with dishes like this for when
he was off, like tonight.
Having Carl around was a huge perk, she admitted. Not enough of one to entirely balance
out the loss of privacy, but a huge perk all the same.
There were others. She didn’t have to dust or vacuum or scrub the bathroom—was, in
fact, strongly discouraged from doing any of that. Carl had a roster of young clan
members eager to earn spending money who did most of the cleaning. Plus she could
grub around in the dirt whenever she had the urge and the time, and if the gardens
here weren’t born of her planning or planting, destroying weeds was always satisfying.
In spite of the obvious perks, Lily didn’t want to live with Isen. She didn’t like
the long commute. She didn’t like the sense of being a perpetual guest, and she couldn’t
get used to the lack of privacy. But Rule would be much more at risk if they stayed
at his San Diego apartment. So would Toby. So would the guards who tried to keep thethree of them safe. That’s why, three weeks ago, Rule had sublet his old place.
No going back. The only direction anyone had was
forward
.
At least here she could go for a run without wondering if someone was going to shoot
her or the guard keeping pace with her…and that was the point, wasn’t it? She and
Rule were prime targets for the enemy, and Friar was still out there, plotting and
planning on
her
behalf.
Which was why she needed to talk to Rule. They were targets, and they were getting
married in two months, one week, and two days, and the whole world knew about it.
The guest list included her entire family, of course. Also a state supreme court justice,
a U.S. senator, and a few more state movers and shakers plus some Washington types—including
Lily’s boss, the head of both Unit Twelve and the Shadow Unit dedicated to fighting
her.
Plus a whole lot of lupi. Nokolai’s Rhej would be one of Lily’s maids of honor; their
sorcerer was Rule’s best man.
Rule wasn’t an idiot, she told herself. He must have thought about how dangerous it
was to hold the wedding at the posh resort where they’d put down that huge deposit.
He’d probably be relieved she brought the subject up.
Why didn’t she believe that?
Maybe because the invitations had already gone out. Then there was the spreadsheet
he’d created. And the detailed seating plan.