by Michele Hauf
“A happy spell.” That explained a little. The woman was certainly in her happy place.
He hugged her to him and she made to jump for another kiss but landed awkwardly on her high heels and he had to catch her before she toppled backward.
“I’d better get you some food, stat.” He glanced to Peanut, who gave him a wondering look. He’d be fine with the drunk witch for the ten minutes it would take him to find food to sober her up. “Be right back. Don’t dance too suggestively for Peanut. The boy’s an innocent!”
He left to a spill of giggles and quickened his steps down the street. The shop wasn’t busy, and besides an all-veggie sandwich for Mireio, he grabbed a foot long with all the fixings for himself, as well. When he got back to the brewery, Mireio lay on the floor next to the baby seat, toggling the puppies hanging from the mobile. He’d wanted wolves but the closest thing had been blue plastic puppies.
“You finished brewing for the day?” he asked as he set out the food on the bar. “Everything all washed up? I could help.”
“I didn’t get to brew at all. Ended up kegging the stout with Valor earlier. Since then I’ve been doing some dusting, inventory and...”
“Beer testing?”
“You know it!” She slid onto a barstool and dove into the sandwich.
Surprised that a woman who actually brewed beer for a living could get so tipsy from her own brews, Lars took it all in stride. But something about Mireio’s actions bothered him. She was smart and had a good head on her shoulders. She knew better than to get drunk at work. Something must be bothering her. Had to be.
She finished the sandwich and twirled around behind the bar. She turned up the radio and grabbed an empty pint glass.
“Uh—” he gestured toward the fridge “—maybe you should have water?”
“What’s up with you today?” She set the glass down with a clink. “You’re harshin’ my vibe.”
“Harshin’ your—Mireio, what’s wrong? Is there something you want to talk about? You’re not yourself today.”
“Can’t a girl indulge in a little beer therapy once in a while?”
He shrugged. “Sure, but during work hours? Is it about the immortality spell? I know you said you were going to set that aside, but, sweetie, if that’s what you want...”
“It’s not that.” She waved him off, then turned to grab a bottle of water from the fridge. “Did Peanut eat yet?”
“Gave him a bottle and some peaches before coming here. I think he likes peaches.”
“I volunteer to not change that diaper.” With a giggle she glided around the bar and plucked a few chips from the bag he’d opened. “What are we going to do tonight? Have any plans?”
“What do you want to do?”
“I thought you were all about doing things that made you happy? Going for the adventure.”
“How adventurous can we be with Peanut tagging along? Sunday can’t sit for him tonight.”
“You should find a backup babysitter.”
“It’s an idea. I haven’t needed a babysitter so much until I met you.”
She blanched.
“That’s a good thing,” he said to alleviate her pout. “I could spend every hour of every day with you and still want more time together. Even when you’re drunk.”
“I’m not that drunk. And I’m starting to sober up. The food is helping. Thanks. You’re right. Something was probably bugging me earlier and...” She blew out a breath and dove to the floor to kneel before Peanut and toggle his toys.
So she didn’t want to talk about it? He could respect that. She’d tell him when she felt like it. Or not. But if it was something about him, he’d like to know.
“I think he looks like a Vladimir today,” she declared.
Lars turned to see if she was being serious or if that was still the beer talking. The witch leaned over Peanut’s carrier, toggling his toes. She then lay on her stomach, knees bent and feet tapping in the air. She looked like the kid’s mother, playing with him. And that thought put a catch in his throat.
Would he ever find a mother for Peanut? Before he died? And what about Dean’s request the other day that he change his will? It felt right. Like the responsible thing to do. But something held him back from committing to such a drastic move. Because nowhere in that legacy would there be room for Mireio.
“I love this song!” She stood and traipsed to the other side of the brewery, where the speakers sounded best. Freddie Mercury crooned softly. The woman wrapped her arms across her chest, eyes closed, and swayed as she sang.
Lars wiped his mouth with a napkin and wandered over to her. Compelled by the magic of her being, he held out his hand for her to take, and she stared at it.
“But you don’t dance,” she said, brushing the hair from her face. “You made that clear the first night we met.”
“I can dance to this slow stuff. It’s just swaying back and forth, isn’t it?”
She put her hand in his and hugged up to him, and Lars bowed his head over his tiny witch. Her melting up against him was the best feeling in the world. Holding her close. Feeling her heat mingle with his. The brush of her hair against his bicep tickled in the best way. The world was right.
Until he caught a few of the song’s lyrics. It was about living forever. Or maybe not? Mercury asked him if he wanted to live forever.
Hell. This was her favorite song?
Sighing, Lars tuned out the words but the one stuck in his brain. Forever. So he put a positive spin on it.
“I want to hold you like this forever,” he whispered.
Suddenly she pushed away from him, swiping at a surprising tear that rolled down her cheek. “Don’t say that!”
“What? Mireio, what is wrong?”
“Don’t you get it? I’d like to hold you forever too. But that can never happen because you’re going to die! Oh, my goddess, this stupid song! I don’t want you to die, Lars. I...don’t...”
She dropped to her knees on the hardwood floor and bowed her head, the tears coming full force as the song ended and segued into something more upbeat.
Lars knelt before her and, unsure what exactly to do, he first bracketed her head with his hands, but didn’t try to lift her face. She sobbed. And he felt her pain pulse in his heart. It was a wicked, relentless pain that promised to bring him down if he didn’t defeat it. But there didn’t seem any way to do that.
Suddenly she looked up, clutched his shirt and said, “I love you, Lars. I don’t want to lose you. And I know there’s no way to change that. That’s the toughest part.”
“You might have changed it. I still feel great from the spell you witches worked on me.”
She smirked but her tears continued to spill. “M-maybe.”
He pulled her in close and stretched his legs out before him so she could sit on his lap. Holding her there, he nuzzled his face against her hair. Nothing sweeter than his tiny witch. Yet the thought that he might lose her, and Peanut, cut through his heart like a blade.
“Why did you happen to me now?” he whispered, “When I’ve just learned that life isn’t going to go the way I expected.”
She brushed her hair away. “No one should ever expect life to go a certain way. We signed up for this. You and me? Our souls agreed to this before we were even born. But that still doesn’t mean it won’t hurt. A lot.”
He kissed the back of her hand. “You said you love me.”
“Because I do. How can I not? You’re the most amazing man I’ve ever known. And how lucky is Peanut to have you as his daddy? I don’t mean to be so forward, but if I’m going to let everything out, I have to be truthful. What are we going to do when you’re gone?”
That blade that had cut into his heart? It now sawed it in half. And Lars knew that kind of wound could never heal so swiftl
y as he wished.
“Life always goes on,” was all he could say.
“I love Peanut so much,” she said. “I hate to think of this—of you dying—but should it happen, I want to adopt him.”
Lars bowed his head to hers. He hadn’t told her about the will change yet. And now, more than ever, he knew his decision to think about it had been a good one. But how could he deny a couple who could never have children of their own simply because another woman who had known Peanut a short time had fallen in love with him? Mireio could have kids someday.
How he wished he could have a family with her.
“What do you think about that?” she asked.
“It’s a generous offer. But I also have a lot of thinking to do about a lot of tough things. And I’d kind of like to linger a bit on that part about you loving me.”
She turned on his lap and met his gaze. “I do. I really do.”
“I feel like if I say the same to you—and damn it, but I do believe I do—that I might only break your heart all the more. I don’t want to do that to you, Mireio. I...” He choked down the rising pain. “I don’t want to die...”
She wrapped her arms about him. The two sat there on the floor as the music continued, oblivious to their pain. Peanut had fallen asleep. And Lars’s heart had broken open.
* * *
It felt good to have told Lars what had been hanging over her head lately. And the tears had helped, as well. Part of her witchy water magic.
And hearing him confess that he didn’t want to die had reassured Mireio in ways she hadn’t realized she’d needed. What man did want to die?
So she’d take it one day at a time. With the man she loved.
A man who was afraid to tell her he loved her because he didn’t want to break her heart? She understood where he was coming from and was glad he’d put that into words for her. They were on the same page. Only, some days it seemed like he was slowly sliding away from her. She intended to grasp his hand and hold on tight.
They got up from the brewery floor and Lars checked on Peanut. Though the infant was sleeping soundly, he was smiling, which indicated a diaper change was necessary.
“Hate to wake him,” Lars commented.
She waved her hand before her nose. “Oh, please, you have to or I will perish from the stink bomb.”
He laughed and carried the baby into the bathroom, where the brewery provided a pull-down baby-changing table, which was installed on the wall.
“You still haven’t suggested what you want to do tonight!” she called.
No answer from behind the closed door. She gathered the food wrappers and tossed them in the trash. It was close to suppertime, but she was full. And no longer tipsy. Okay, bad judgment letting her angst rule and her better senses take a vacation earlier. She should never have had that last half-pint of bad ale. Lesson learned.
On the other hand, her relaxed inhibitions had allowed her to make her confession to Lars. So she’d take the good with the bad. Even though some days it felt all bad. But she wasn’t going to get down on herself anymore. She wasn’t the one with the death sentence. She had to stay strong for Lars.
As for immortality? Nope. Not going to do it. Even if the one vampire she most wanted dead was out there stalking the streets.
“I know what I want to do tonight.” Lars strolled out of the bathroom with a smiling Peanut and a small plastic bag that he held away from him as if it were labeled Hazardous Materials. “It could be a family date.”
His choice of words warmed her very soul. “What?”
“Not sure how you’ll feel about this, but uh... Would you like to go bowling?”
Mireio clapped her hands once and bounced. “Yes!”
He gave her a surprised dodge of his head.
“Sorry, was that too enthusiastic? You don’t know how much I’ve always wanted to go bowling. The glossy lanes and the sparkly balls! And the shoes! Everyone gets their own special shoes!”
“Uh, okay? I’ve never seen a woman so excited about the prospect of wearing shoes someone else just got done sweating in, but let’s do it!”
Chapter 20
Bowling was...complicated. And while Mireio had yet to knock down a single pin after six attempts at tossing that ugly pink sparkly ball down the lane, she didn’t feel at all upset. How could she when watching Lars was like staring at a kid in the candy store? The man loved bowling.
He was talented with the bowling ball. And he had a style. The tall, hulking wolf approached the sacred line beyond which you shouldn’t step—which she’d slid across four times already—and with a bend and a glide of his right leg behind his other, he released the ball in such a smooth, speedy throw she could but marvel. Even the lanes paralleling them stopped and watched as the ball crashed into the pins and, most of the time, knocked them all down. This time all went down.
Lars pumped an arm and did his little “strike dance” as she’d come to call it. Hips wiggling, he twisted on the toes of his shoes.
She glanced to Peanut, who seemed to watch eagerly, though it could also be the squishy teething ring that made him look so enthralled. “Your daddy is a rock star, Peanut Butter.”
“What was that?” Lars cupped a hand to his ear as he glided back over to the chairs behind the ball holder. “Did someone call me a rock star? Oh, yeah!” Another fist pump was well-earned. “You going to let me help you on the next one, sweetie? I think all you need to do is bring your swing back a bit more. Put a little more oomph in your delivery.”
“I know what I’d like delivered with some oomph.” She winked at him and stood to collect her ball. The thrill over sparkly balls and shoes had dissipated. Seriously? Who put on shoes that someone had just got done sweating in? Well, she did. Because it made her man happy. And that was all that mattered. Of course, she did have one trick up her sleeve. She glanced to him as she held up her ball. “I got this one.”
He bowed grandly, gesturing she go for it, then bent to kiss Peanut on the head.
Cautiously she approached the do-not-cross line, eyed up the neighboring aisles—everyone was chattering or focused on their games—and with a whisper of Latin, Mireio then sent the ball flying. It traveled slowly, but this time it was almost straight.
With her back still to Lars, she lifted her hand near her stomach and directed the ball with a finger and another whisper. “To the right.” The ball corrected and rolled right up to the pins and...knocked one down. “Yes!”
Lars ran for her, lifting her in his arms and spinning her around. “You did it!”
“I’m so close to being a rock star, I can feel it.” She kissed him. “Maybe the rock star’s groupie. It’s fun watching him do his victory dance.”
“I have a victory dance?”
“Seriously? You do that hip shake and toe twist thing every time you knock them all down.”
“Huh.”
He didn’t realize he did that? That made it all the more sweet.
After four more attempts at hitting the pins, and with the use of magic, Mireio was able to add two and a half more pins to her tally. The half one wobbled, looked like it would almost fall, then decided not to. But she was going to count it anyway. Stupid, magic-resistant pin.
Wandering back to the chairs, she sat beside Lars. Peanut was fussing, kicking his feet like a sumo wrestler and twisting uncomfortably in his carrier. “You want me to pick him up?” she asked, surprised that Lars hadn’t already done so.
“Would you?”
“Sure. You go knock ’em all down again. I got this.”
“I think I’m going to sit the rest of them out. We’ve had a good game. But this rock star has taken his final bow for the night.”
Mireio picked up Peanut and as she did she noticed Lars sat with his hands between his legs, and his fi
ngers dangling, and, while it wasn’t an odd pose, she immediately knew what was up.
“Fingers numb?” she asked as nonchalantly as possible. Making a big deal out of it would only make him feel weaker.
He nodded. “Feet too.”
“Okay. I’m going to head into the bathroom to change Michael. I’ll be right back. You good?”
“Yep. And...Michael isn’t bad, but I once knew a bully by the same name.”
“Ugh, Michael? What an awful name.” She kissed Peanut’s head and strolled off. “How about Mason?” she tried. “Or Morty, Maxwell or Mouse?”
The poor kid needed a name soon. He couldn’t be named after a legume for the rest of his life. She then thought maybe she shouldn’t have left Lars sitting alone, but with a glance over her shoulder she saw him conversing with a man on the seat behind him. He’d be good for a few minutes.
Thankfully, the bathroom had a changing station and she made swift work and then kissed Peanut’s head. The woman at the sink eyed him and cooed. “Your son is adorable. Look at all that hair! Oh, I saw you and your husband out there. He’s a big tall drink, isn’t he?”
“He certainly is.” No need to correct her mistake. Mireio left the bathroom, but her thoughts scurried toward a surprising future.
What if they got married? She could adopt Peanut, and if anything did happen to Lars—because who knew how long the healing spell would be effective—the baby would be taken care of. It wasn’t a ridiculous notion to entertain. Sure, she’d only known him a short while, but what she knew of Lars was that he was honest, kind, hardworking and so true. And a good lover. What more did a girl need?
Not that she’d expected to get married so early in life. What she’d expected was to perform the immortality spell and gain a good hundred years. And then a hundred more. And a hundred more. And so on. Marriage? That could wait, because she’d have centuries to find the perfect man.
Who would have thought that without even searching she would have netted such a perfect catch?
