After The I Do

by Autumn Breeze

  “Whatever you desire, little fire.” Lilith shakes her head but she doesn’t let go of Duke and he doesn’t let go of her either. I suppose that will make all the difference in the years to come.

  23

  Easing down on the brake pedal so I don’t run the last red light out of Necropolis Zone A, we slowly roll to a stop. Once the car settles, I close my eyes for a brief second and exhale.

  Two weeks in the inner city has exhausted me. It was hard to get work done in between the hours I spent at the hospital with Lilith and home with my family but somehow, I managed.

  Warm, soft fingers land on my forearm and I open my eyes to find Everett offering me the same understanding, supportive smile he has been since this whole ordeal started. I try to return it but I am exhausted, physically and mentally. Being strong for Lilith and keeping Duke from jumping off the deep end has been a full-time job.

  The human is crazy but he found the four men—teenagers, really—who’d almost killed my sister. I trust they will spend a very long time in a dark cell. If they don’t . . . they’ll just end up spending all of eternity cold in the ground by my hand or Duke’s.

  Whatever happens to them will be deserved, as far as I am concerned.

  “Do you really think it’s a good idea to leave the city?” Everett asks as I lift my foot from the gas and begin to roll through the green light. A few cars pass us, going back into the city while more turn off at the green light, taking a left or right to head into other zones.

  “If we stay, we’ll just be in the way.” We stayed long enough to see Lilith settled comfortably in her bedroom. Our presence at her side was hardly registered since she was on enough painkillers to knock out an elephant.

  I know no matter what the doctor gives her or how religiously she takes her medication, it will never numb her aching heart. I don’t think there is any medication that can kill the pain losing a child brings.

  “What if she needs us?” Everett questions and I glance at him.

  He loves my sisters. When I left the hospital to work, he volunteered to stay with Sophia, Mason and Lilith. Not once did he complain about spending endless nights in a cold waiting room, curled up on an uncomfortable chair. Like all of us, he just wanted Lilith better, wanted her to come home and be okay. She is home, but I don’t know if she’ll ever be okay.

  “We can come back if necessary,” I tell him, attempting to ease some of his worry but from the frown he displays, I don’t know if it works. “We’ll visit her on Friday.” That is three days away. “In the meantime, I think we could both use a hot meal, a real bed, and a moment to regroup.” I did have work I couldn’t take care of while looking after my sister and I know Everett still has the opening of his inner-city art studio to contend with.

  Not to mention, Lilith needs time to herself, needs time to nurse her wounds privately. I’d said as much to Duke.

  Duke sits in the waiting room, his head in his hands as he attempts to rest. From his heavy breathing and the bouncing of one of his legs, I know it is an unsuccessful endeavor. Sitting beside him, I lay a hand on his shoulder. He lifts his head and I look away, giving him enough time to stem the build of tears.

  “Have you found anything?” I ask once I am sure he has himself under control. His eyes are red and puffy, probably from tears he’s already shed. I don’t judge him for them and I don't question him about them either. His sadness is his own.

  “I tracked down the security company but the cameras were down for maintenance.” Duke sighs and I do as well. Resting my elbows on my knees, I bow my head and clench my hair.

  “So it’s a dead-end?” We don’t know anything more than what Lilith told us and she couldn’t tell us anything. The doctor said it wasn’t unusual for victims of severe trauma to have memory loss. He assured us it could come back but couldn’t say when.

  “There is still a chance a witness will come forward or Lilith will remember,” Duke mutters.

  “Don’t get your hopes up, Duke.” The chances of a witness coming forward are slim, almost impossible. No one wants to be caught between the police and my family.

  Shaking his head, Duke stands up. There is something dark in his gaze, something I am not used to seeing. For the first time, I realize this human, this man raised outside of Necropolis, is more us—more magick, miracle, myth—than he will ever be one of his own kind. There is a monster somewhere inside of Duke Cooper. That is why he is so well suited to life among them.

  “I can’t lose hope. It’s about all I’ve got left,” he says.

  Standing up, I lay my hand on his forearm. “She’ll come around. Right now, she just needs time.”

  Lilith lost her baby. She is beyond devastated. Duke is in no better shape. Since the bleeding started, she’s refused to see him, refused to let the doctors tell him anything. He relies on me for news and I am reluctant to tell him anything out of respect for Lilith’s wishes.

  The past week has been hard on everyone.

  “Don’t get your hopes up, Thanos,” Duke mocks me and I sigh.

  He turns and leaves the room and I sit down in the chair he vacated. I don’t have the answers so many people around me seek. There is nothing I can do and I feel powerless.

  It is not a feeling I am accustomed to or one I enjoy.

  “Losing the baby has broken her heart,” Everett speaks, walking into the waiting room with a cup of coffee in each hand. “But I think it has broken Duke’s, too.” I accept the cup he offers.

  “I think losing their baby is a stab wound deeper and more painful than any either have ever suffered,” I admit as he settles beside me. Everett exhales heavily, leaning back in the chair and I close my eyes.

  If there is a god, does this mean he has abandoned us?

  “I suppose,” Everett mumbles, pulling me from my thoughts, the past. Reaching over, I take his hand. He squeezes and rests his head against the window, falling silent while I continue to drive home. “Do you think Lilith will ever try for another child?” he inquires, breaking the silence that encases us.

  “I don’t know,” I reply, honestly. “She may but I don’t believe another pregnancy and a successful birth will ever lessen her current loss.”

  Everett goes silent again and I peek at him. His gaze is turned out the window as he chews on his cheek. I open my mouth but close it again, finding I have nothing to say. It seems unnecessary to just fill the silence.

  “Do you want children, someday?” I can feel Everett’s gaze on the side of my face as I drive. Flicking my tongue out, I wet my lips. Do I want children, someday?

  “It is necessary,” I tell him. Shaking his head, Everett releases my hand and turns to face me. The seat belt stretches across his chest as he adjusts his body so he is leaning in the corner formed by the door and seat. When I glance at him again, his eyes glow in the dashboard light.

  “No, I mean . . . do you want them? Not just because it is required but because you desire to be a father,” he asks.

  Does he want children one day?

  His father is no proper example but Everett isn’t his father.

  What kind of father will he be, will I be?

  One day, both of us will know the answer to that question. Hopefully, we are worthy parents.

  “I have always liked the thought of a large family,” I slowly speak after a few seconds of silence. “Siblings are a pain but there is a bond in the blood that sometimes seems unbreakable.” I know it can be broken but it is rare. “I’d like any child I sire to know the love I have known. Not only a parent's love, but the kind only found in the bond between siblings.”

  Siblings, I believe, are the only people who can truly understand where you come from because they come from the same place.

  If I were an only child, I believe it would have been a lonely existence. That is why, when I always think of my future, of the children who will have my eyes or my spouse's, there is always another child who shares my coloring or my spouse's affinity for something trivial.
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  “I never wished to be a father. Children . . . ” he trails off and looks back out the window. “I’m not sure I’m capable of properly loving a child.” Everett presses his forehead against the cool glass. I inspect him briefly before turning my gaze back to the road.

  “Children are well off, Everett.” He nods but says nothing.

  Leaving him to his thoughts so I can inspect my own, I drive on in silence, waiting for my driveway to appear in the twilight. When it does, Everett seems to perk up. A small smile pulls at his lips when the gate swings open.

  Something about coming home can make a weary soul feel energized.

  “Can we go for a walk?” Everett asks as I park.

  “Of course. We can have a picnic.” The light is fading fast but if I take a flashlight and lantern, it won’t matter. Everett can be my eyes. I trust him to lead me in the dark.

  “I’ll fix us something,” Everett agrees, climbing out of the car. Benjamin is waiting at the door when we enter the house. He came to visit Lilith a handful of times. Each time she improved, he seemed to relax a little. I don’t suppose he has slept any easier than any of us.

  “She’s settled comfortably at home,” I tell Ben and he exhales softly while taking the bags I drew out of the car from my grasp. “I imagine these next few weeks will be difficult but she’ll live.”

  “That’s good to hear, sir.” He inclines his head and disappears.

  Turning to Everett, he rolls his shoulders while exhaustion falls over his face. Extending my hand toward him, I run my knuckles across his jaw. His neon eyes come to my face. My heart squeezes painfully as I take in the dark circles under his eyes.

  “I don’t know what I would have done without your support these last few weeks, Everett. Thank you for everything,” I tell him.

  Reaching up, he grasps my wrist. I pull him against my chest and his head rests against my collarbone as I close my eyes and breathe in his all too familiar scent. His free hand slips around my back and digs into my shirt as we cling to each other.

  24

  Everett waited a month until Lilith is on her feet and able to attend the party to celebrate the official opening of his art workshop. Because he is considerate of my sister, it is nearing the end of July and we’ve been married three months, ninety days, by the time the doors are unlocked and the public admitted.

  I am proud of him; he knows that.

  Laying my hand against Everett’s back, I offer him a smile and a glass of pre-approved wine. He’s made me promise to only let him drink two glasses tonight and I have every intention of honoring my word. “It looks like everyone has arrived.”

  My family is here, of course. Father has his arm around my mother’s waist as they walk around, looking at some of the artwork on display. Lilith is sitting at a table with a glass of wine that isn’t technically supposed to be mixed with her medication. Sophia and Mason are only a couple of feet away from her messing with Everett’s supplies. Duke stands on the opposite side of the room of them all, brooding.

  Surprisingly, some of Everett’s family is here, too. His mother and six sisters are huddled together, looking around awkwardly and clearly out of place among my family and the community.

  I do recognize Eleanor as the one who danced with my sister. She is the youngest Dawson daughter at twenty-two years old and David’s favorite, if I remember what Everett told me correctly. Her eyes flicker around the room with curiosity. Once or twice, I notice she smiles at my little sister and Sophia returns the gesture.

  The other sisters, I still have trouble placing even though I know their names and their birth order.

  Evaline, is the oldest—even more so than me, at thirty-two. I imagine she is the one holding Mrs. Dawson’s arm with a tight smile. The second oldest is Emily, but she is a twin so Ebony would be his third sister, only younger than Emily by a handful of minutes. Both are twenty-nine and I assume they are the pair who resemble one another most.

  Enya is twenty-six and the fourth daughter of David and Susan Dawson. I remember Everett telling me she is a veterinarian so I assume she is the pretty auburn-haired woman with a cat necklace around her throat and busy on her phone. I could ask Everett for clarification but he’s sucking down the wine I brought so my gaze continues to move over the bunch.

  Erian, if I remember correctly, is the shortest sister. On top of being short, she enjoys standing out so she often colors her hair. The twenty-five-year-old, and fifth daughter, can only be the one sporting blood red hair with a black undercarriage. It suits her and does draw the eye. Mason has looked her way more than once.

  Does my little brother have a thing for older women?

  “I’m so nervous,” Everett mumbles, breaking me out of my inspection, after he finishes the glass of wine. I brought it in hopes it would calm his nerves and encourage him out of the office he’s been hiding in. Guests are asking after him and I can only make excuses for so long.

  I take the wine glass from him and set in on a nearby table before taking his hands in mine. My thumbs move over his wrists as I offer him a gentle smile. “Just breath, любимый.”

  “That’s easy for you to say,” he mutters and I laugh softly before reaching up and pushing some of his hair behind his ear. I suppose it is easy for me to say. Tonight isn’t about me. No one is expecting anything from me. This show is all about Everett.

  “Everyone here is here to support you, Everett. Everyone here is here because they believe in you, in this workshop and what it can do for the community.” They are here because of him and him alone. “All you have to do is smile and say, ‘Thank you,’ for a couple hours.”

  Everett exhales heavily before looking toward the crowd through the window blinds that hide him from view. “All right.”

  Curling my finger with Everett’s, I step out of the way and let him lead us.

  Once we appear, someone takes notice and starts clapping.

  There is a round of congratulations as Everett flushes several shades of red.

  It takes a couple of minutes, Everett has to announce how thankful he is to everyone that has come in support of him, but people go back to their conversations and wanderings.

  Mason appears before we can take another step. “This place is pretty cool.”

  For the first time tonight, Everett looks a little less sick as an honest, happy smile pulls at his lips. “Thank you,” he mutters, “People really seem to be enjoying themselves.”

  They are wandering the room, reading the pamphlets and posters Everett spent the last couple of weeks printing out or painting. Anyone who brought children were happy to discover Everett had an assistant willing to mind them in a separate room filled with arts and crafts he will use every week during his free to the public class, so they could enjoy themselves.

  “Thanos likes to pretend he’s the only non-artistic person in the family but I can’t paint or draw to save my life. If I take a private lesson, do I get a family discount?” Mason asks.

  Everett scoffs as I roll my eyes.

  I suppose being able to play the piano isn’t artistic but it is a talent nonetheless.

  “I’ll make you pay double,” my husband teases and I laugh softly.

  “Greedy fuck. No wonder you’re a match made in heaven.” Everett looks at me with Mason’s declaration and I offer him a smile while releasing his hand. He falls against my side when my arm slips around his shoulder. I don’t know if we are a match made in heaven but I do know we are happy and that I am quite fond of Everett.

  I may even love him. I’m not ready to say so one way or another.

  “This place isn’t going to pay for itself,” Everett reminds Mason.

  “Fair enough,” my little brother concedes before stopping a waiter and snagging a glass of wine off his tray. “I suppose I’ll drink your wine and gush about how talented you are since you won’t give me free lessons.” I roll my eyes as Mason takes a dramatic sip of the wine he acquired and chokes on the dryness.

 
Everett laughs, passing him a napkin that was stored in his pocket.

  “If ten people sign up for at least two private lessons each on your recommendation, I’ll give you a couple private lessons.” Mason hums, looking around the room.

  “Thanos—”

  “I don’t count, you idiot.” Mason huffs and gives us his back. I shake my head at him but watch his head turn on a swivel. When he glances back at us, something evil is in his gaze.

  “Mrs. Dawson,” he calls loudly across the room, grabbing another glass of wine as he heads toward her. Everett groans, turning his head into my chest and I can’t help but laugh.

  Mason is clever and knows where to strike.

  “Do you want to go hide again?” I ask him and he pushes away, shaking his head.

  “Let’s mingle for a little.” I nod in agreement and curl my fingers with his. We push into the crowd and it isn’t long before my mother and father stop us.

  “It’s lovely,” my mother tells Everett, leaning in for a hug. “I don’t need lessons but I’m so tempted to take a few.”

  “In your spare time, if you want, you can always give a few to the children with me,” Everett offers and my mother’s face lights up like the sun.

  “Really?” she asks, giving a small bounce that draws my father's eyes away from her face and toward her chest. I shiver slightly and look skyward. Must they so publicly be disgusting?

  “Of course. Thursdays and Saturdays are when I plan to do classes for inner city children. Thursday will be the younger bunch and Saturday the older. I want to keep each class small so I may have to add more days depending on the sign up,” he tells Mother before his gaze flickers to the sheets by the door.

  They’ve been restocked twice because those in attendance filled out forms or someone slipped into the building to investigate for a moment and took one on their way out. I have a feeling his art shop is going to be a roaring success. Children will love the free classes and older citizens will like the experience of doing something new.