by Melissa Marr
With the exception of Hector, I loved all my foster siblings. Yet Marius was different. The day I arrived, I put on a brave face. Mercy had hugged me and said we were going to be “such friends” before bouncing off to bed. At night I was left alone in my room, crying into my pillow, in this strange place amidst all these strangers whose names I couldn’t even keep straight. Then someone scratched at my window. I’d dried my tears and looked out to see eleven-year-old Marius in the courtyard with a bowl of figs.
I knew I’d been sold as a future wife, and it made me wary of Zeus’s sons, even this child, a mere year older than me. Marius didn’t try to lead me anywhere, though. We sat in the central courtyard, lit by moonlight, and we ate figs in silence. At the time, I thought I’d fooled him with my dried eyes. Now I know better. He realized I’d been crying. He’d heard me, and that’s why he brought the figs. It’s also why he didn’t talk, not until I broke the silence by thanking him.
“You must miss your parents,” he said. “Your mother, at least.”
I had to stop and consider that. Then I shook my head. I did not miss them. Nor was I glad to escape them. I just missed my home, the certainty of it.
“Do you have sisters and brothers?” he asked.
I shook my head.
A quirk of a smile. “Now you have lots. That must be quite frightening. Would you like to know more about them?”
I nodded, and he gave me a rundown of his siblings—their interests and their powers and what to expect from them.
“I like Hermes,” I said—that being Mercy’s name at the time.
Marius rolled his eyes. “Everybody likes her, for the first couple of hours, until she drives you up a wall with her incessant chatter and pranks. She loves pranks.” His face softened. “She’s all right, though. She’ll enjoy having another sister.”
“What about you?” I asked carefully. “Do you mind another sister?”
He tilted his head, a gesture I came to know well. Marius would never be considered the “thinker” of the family. The opposite, according to myth. But then the myths also paint him as a violent and blood-thirsty warrior who is a coward at heart, and he is none of those things either. That night, he considered my words with great care before answering.
“I don’t really need another sister,” he said. “A friend, though? I would welcome a friend.”
And so it began. The defining relationship of my life, the strongest and the most treasured. We grew up together. When it came time to marry me to one of Zeus’s sons, I prayed it would be Marius, but he wasn’t considered among the possibilities. He was but a child, a boy of fifteen. Little matter that I was fourteen myself. That was different. I was a woman, and in need of a husband. I went to Hector, and the less said about that, the better. If Marius is the defining positive relationship in my life, Hector is the defining negative one.
The myths all say that Aphrodite cheated on Hephaestus with Ares. There, the myths are correct, and I may have regrets in my life, but that is not one of them. The opposite, in fact. I cannot imagine how I would have survived without Marius.
For years, I tried to be a “proper” wife to Hector. As loyal and devoted as any husband could want. But Hector never wanted a wife. He wanted a possession—the most beautiful woman in Greece, on his arm and in his bed, and gods forbid I should want or be anything more.
I was more. Marius saw it, and I saw him, when he became a man, and by then, marriage was a nightmare cage for both my body and my soul. I loved and respected Hera, but I would not be her, content to subsume my own self playing wife to an abusive bastard, focusing all my love on my children. I adore my children, but I would never put that pressure on them.
All that is in the past, at least as much as it can be. There are hiccups, such as this one with Marius, but I will take what he can give for now. This rift will mend when it is ready to be mended, and I have learned not to rush it. We have, quite literally, all the time in the world.
Others do not have that time, and so I will focus my attention there this weekend. Set this little mystery in motion, and give Kennedy and Aiden a push toward each other, maybe Ani and Jonathan, too, if I can manage it. Also keep Hope away from Rian.
Two pairs of seedlings to nourish and coax closer to one another. One pair to separate, gently, encouraging them to flourish in their own rows. I am Aphrodite, goddess of love, and if I cannot tend to my own garden right now, I will tend to others.
* * *
While I go to sleep alone, I do not wake that way. Marius is beside me, which would be so much sexier if he wasn’t fully dressed, lying atop the covers, staring at the ceiling.
“Good morning,” he says, without glancing over.
I want to comment about the bed not being big enough for both of us, but there are only two ways that can go. I can seriously grumble, and he’ll get up, which I don’t want. Or I can tease and make some ribald comment, and things will get uncomfortable quickly.
It reminds me of when we were in our late teens, coming into adulthood and the realization that we were not children together anymore. Coming into the awareness of the attraction smouldering between us. In the days before we were ready to act on it. The days when we weren’t sure what to make of it and whether the other felt it and if so, what to do about it. This feels the same. There is a wall here, as much as there had been when I was married to Hector. Only this wall is of our own making, and we are even less certain how to tear it down.
No, let me be honest. I am less certain Marius wants it torn down. I am utterly confident in his love for me. I haven’t always been, but I no longer doubt, for one moment, that he loves me, that I am as important to him as he is to me.
Loving me is not the same as wanting to be my lover again, and this is what I truly fear. That someday he will have had enough. That he may already have had enough. That I am, quite simply put, more work than I am worth.
What do I have to offer him, beyond what we currently have? Sex. No matter how good that may be, it’s hardly something he can’t get elsewhere. We’ve always had the understanding between us that sexual fidelity is not the true measure of our devotion. Sex is a physical act we enjoy together very much, and when we are not together, we do not begrudge the other finding it elsewhere, no more than we’d expect them to starve if we were not there to dine with them.
Yet there’s more to sex than the act. There is intimacy between those who love each other, and that is what I miss most of all. That is what I fear he has decided—that he can do without sex and intimacy when it drags along all the complications of being my lover.
I am difficult. I am demanding and fickle, at one moment wanting to be left alone and the next, desperately needy. He has never complained. He rolls his eyes if I joke that I am “high maintenance.” Yet I am not truly joking, and so I am afraid that this is the thing wedged between us. He wants nothing that brings heartache and pain and strife. Marius is happier in a life that runs smoothly. The god of war is, ironically, not fond of confrontation, having faced too much of that in his professional life to want it in his personal one.
So when I wake to him beside me, I only say, “Good morning,” and I don’t comment on the narrowness of the bed. Don’t grumble or tease. I just wriggle over to lay my head on his shoulder, as I would when we were teenagers, lying together and staring up at the stars.
“Is everything okay?” I ask softly.
“Everything’s fine. I just wanted to ask what you need me to do today.”
I lift my head and lean over his face, my hair tumbling down. He makes a show of spitting it out of his mouth. Before I can tuck my hair back, he does it for me.
“I am saying, Vess, that I agree to assist with your scheme. To help you pull off this mystery tableau.”
“Really?”
He chuckles. “Yes, really.”
My eyes narrow. “What’s the catch?”
“No catch. I just decided that this is important to you, and while I disagree in principle, I don
’t see the harm. I know that whatever you have planned, it’s intended to be fun, rather than deceptive. So I’m in.”
“You’re tossing me a bone.”
He sighs. “Vess . . .”
I push up until I’m sitting. “You’re worried that I’m still recovering from earlier this month, from what happened with Hector. You think I need a distraction and want to help me get it.”
“No, Vess.”
“Then you’re humoring me. You don’t think I should do this, but there’s no harm, so you’re going to give it to me.”
“Yes, I believe I just said that. It is not, however, a cookie. If I’m humoring you, it is in the most well-meaning of ways. Like you going to that technology show with me in Vegas last year.”
I open my mouth to ask whether he feels obligated to do this because I went to that show with him. Or because he feels bad about what happened earlier this month and his role in it.
Instead I zip my lips because I had, only moments ago, been fretting about how difficult I can be. Fretting that he’s had enough of it . . . and then jumping straight into defensive and difficult mode when he offers me something I want.
“I’m being a bitch about this,” I say. “Sorry.”
He tenses, and then takes my face between his hands. “No, Vess. You are not being a bitch. I wish you wouldn’t—” He bites the rest off and kisses my forehead before levering up. “It’s agreed then. I am your willing assistant in this endeavor. Now, you take the first shower, and I will start coffee.”
“You shower. I’ll make coffee.” When he tries to protest, I wave it off. “I wasn’t planning on showering anyway. Or wearing deodorant. If I can’t duck attention with an ill-advised outfit, I shall do it with my natural body odor.”
“Mmm, sexy.”
I swat him and reach for my wrapper as he heads from the room.
Chapter Six
Breakfast is more than an hour away, so I’m not surprised to find the kitchen empty. I’m sure Ani has everything ready to be popped into the oven for warming and baking, allowing her to spend the minimum amount of time banging around the kitchen this morning. She has, naturally, left out a plate of mixed coffee pods and sugar with a note that there is cream and milk in the fridge. There are also plates of both muffins and fruit. I make two coffees and take a muffin and two apples. Then I text Marius that I’m taking our pre-breakfast treats outside to enjoy the sunrise.
It’s a little late for the sunrise, but it makes an excellent excuse. As I step onto the deck, I’m so busy thinking of where to sit that I don’t realize anyone is out there until I hear Kennedy’s laughter and Aiden’s answering chuckle.
I stop so quickly I slosh the coffee. Before I can retreat, Aiden is there, taking the coffees from me as Kennedy hands me a napkin for the droplets spattered on my arm.
“I didn’t know anyone was out here,” I say. “Let me go back inside.”
“No, no,” Kennedy says. “I was just talking Aiden’s ear off, as usual. Chattering away. He’ll be grateful for the rescue.”
She’s teasing, but then there’s a slight pause before Aiden murmurs, “Of course not.” It sounds perfunctory, as if he’s just realized he should say something. Of course, what he should do is tease her back. Joke that yes, thank goodness I showed up to save him.
That’s what Kennedy would do. It is not what Aiden would do, and that two-second pause was him madly trying to figure out what to say and realizing that the longer he says nothing, the worse it seems. So he made the most perfunctory response possible, and Kennedy colors, thinking she really is boring him with her chatter.
I have my work cut out for me here. But I am up to the task.
“He certainly didn’t seem to need rescue,” I say.
“I don’t,” Aiden says firmly. “Which Kennedy knows. She just likes to tease me.” A mock stern look her way that makes her relax. “We were discussing the mystery from last night.”
“Oh? It is a delicious one, isn’t it? I’m surprised it hasn’t been solved by now.” I take my coffee back from Aiden. “Perhaps it just needs amateur detectives with a bit of luck on their side.”
He gives the faintest smile as he shakes his head. “I believe it will require more than that. However, we are intrigued.” A quick glance at Kennedy. “Or I am, at least.”
“I am, too,” she says. “And being the fiftieth anniversary, I think we should solve it.”
“I absolutely think you should solve it,” I say, sipping my coffee as casually as I can. “You have a knack for that sort of thing. You should revisit the scene. Look for clues. Oh, and Jonathan seemed interested last night. Perhaps he and Ani could dig through archives. See what they find.”
“Sadly, they’re too busy for research duty,” Kennedy says. “There are events at the library, plus Jonathan is on the town council. And Ani has volunteered for everything, as always.”
“Mmm, well, yes, but—”
“Plus, I have a new shop to open.” Her shoulders sag. “Which is exciting, of course. Especially right at the beginning of the season, and I have you to thank for that, Vanessa.” She waves a hand. “Forget Lisa Lake. If the case hasn’t been solved by now, it won’t be. This weekend is about preparing for my grand opening.”
“I’m sure that won’t take up all your time,” I say. “Not with Aiden there to help you.”
They both hesitate. Then Aiden says quickly, “I will help, of course. As much as I can. I did promise—”
“You promised nothing. You did more than enough with the insurance claim. Family comes first.”
I turn slowly on Aiden. “Family?”
He grimaces. “I woke to a five a.m. string of texts from my father, who woke to a three a.m. flurry of phone calls from Venice. It seems Rian’s idea of rescheduling is to send out e-mails as he’s boarding a plane. He was supposed to be the face of Connolly Enterprises at a critical meeting with investors today. They are not happy. Our parents are not happy.”
“Which has nothing to do with you,” I say.
Behind him, Kennedy makes a face, telling me she’s pointed out the same thing.
“It is how they operate,” Aiden says, sipping his coffee. “I need to speak to Rian.”
“So you get the early-morning texts while he gets to sleep in? Despite the fact you have nothing to do with this and are not part of the family business?”
“I am here,” he says. “Enjoying the long weekend, and he shirked his duties to join me. Therefore, it is my responsibility.” He rolls his shoulders. “That sounds bitter. I apologize. It’s best for all if I handle the situation as swiftly as possible. Speak to Rian. Smooth things over with my parents. Help him smooth things over with the investors. And then . . .” A faint smile for Kennedy. “I am yours for the remainder of the weekend.”
I want to argue. Kennedy’s practically ready to explode with everything she wants to say about this. But we both stay silent. We’ve made our opinions known. If we push, Aiden will feel obligated to defend his family, because they are his family after all.
“I should wake Rian and get this over with,” Aiden says, with all the enthusiasm of a man facing a date with the firing squad.
“No, no,” I say. “Let him sleep a little longer. You two enjoy your coffee.”
Kennedy shakes her head. “I should see if Ani needs help in the kitchen. Get that done before I need to leave for the shop.”
They head inside, brushing past Marius as he exits. A quick good morning to him, and then they’re gone, leaving him frowning after them.
He comes out and shuts the door. “Maybe you should rethink that shower, Vess. You’re driving everyone away already.”
He sees my expression, and his smile fades. “Everything okay?”
I sigh. “Just seeing my plans disintegrate around me, hopes and dreams swirling into nothing on the winds of fickle fate.”
“Huh. That sounds bad.”
I pat his shoulder. “I will marshal my resources and overcome the
obstacles.”
“I do not doubt it. Now tell me what you need me to do today.”
* * *
What I need Marius to do is help Kennedy, who has lost both Aiden and Rian. Ani and Jonathan offer to pitch in, but Kennedy reminds them they have a full schedule getting ready for the weekend, which launches today. Hope promises she’ll be by as soon as she’s done running errands. As for Aiden and Rian, they say nothing because they aren’t there. They take breakfast on the porch, which moves to breakfast under the pergola as Rian’s voice rises. Because clearly what Aiden needs—after his brother ruins his weekend—is for that same brother to snap and shout at him.
Families. Sometimes, they’re like the Bennetts, so close and loving you wonder whether they’re accepting applications. Sometimes they’re like the Olympians, where family gatherings are either heaven or hell, and you can never tell which until everyone’s there and it’s too late to escape. Then there are the Connollys, where you don’t even need to have met the parents to want to declare them unfit, adopt their adult sons and invest a fortune in sibling therapy.
By seven-thirty, I’m at the shop with Kennedy and Marius, just as a moving truck pulls up in front. Earlier this month, Kennedy’s Boston shop was, as she puts it, “trashed.” By Havoc? By Hector? We still aren’t sure, but it’d be one of the two, partly because they were looking for something and partly because they are both, as Kennedy would put it again, assholes. Kennedy also jokes that they actually did her a favor. As traumatic as it was at the time, it helped her realize she wanted to move home to Unstable, and the insurance money made that possible.
