by Lili Valente
The door closes, leaving us alone, and when Tristan’s voice comes again, I can tell he’s even closer. “How did it turn out? I can’t wait to see you.”
“No! You can’t come in here yet!” I grab the shower curtain, tugging it closed. “You can’t see me until I’m all pulled together.”
“But I want to see you now,” he says from right outside the door. “A little bird told me you’re only wearing a bikini top in there.”
“And body paint you aren’t allowed to smear until after the party,” I say in my I-mean-business voice. “I’m serious, Tristan, if you come in here before I’m ready I’m going to be for real angry with you. Proper Halloweening necessitates a big reveal.”
“All right, all right. But I want to tell you something before I go shower, okay?”
I pull back the curtain. “Okay. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.”
“You sound like something’s wrong. Did you get another weird text from Kim?”
He hesitates for a long beat, making my stomach drop. I’d hoped Kim was getting the hint, but apparently not.
“Actually, she came by the shelter as I was closing up.”
My forehead pinches. “What? Why? It’s not like she can take an adopted animal back to Australia. They have very strict animal control laws down there.”
“I know,” he says, amusement in his voice before he continues in a more focused tone. “And no, she didn’t want to adopt an animal. She said she was checking in to make sure I was okay. That I was safe…”
“Safe,” I echo, frowning so hard I know I’m probably creasing my face paint. “From what? Surely she wasn’t talking about like…safety in the bedroom, was she? Because that really is taking things way too far, even for her.”
“Oh, she took things too far, but not like that. She told me a big story about how you stalked and victimized her in college. She even inferred that maybe your relationship with me is some elaborate plan to get back to terrorizing her. Or maybe a way to punish her for dating your ex.”
My jaw drops. “What? Oh my God! That’s such a load of….” I trail off, sputtering at the outrageousness of it all. “I mean, I don’t even know what to call it. Bullshit is too tame a word. Horse shit, maybe? Rhinoceros shit? A giant floating whale turd? Whatever type of shit is the biggest and shittiest?”
Tristan chuckles. “Yeah, I figured. But since you haven’t told me the real story, I didn’t have much to fight back with, Zo.”
I freeze, heartbeat slowing as I realize what Kim’s done. She must have realized that I haven’t told Tristan the truth about her sexploits in college for fear of hurting him. And now she’s decided to use my good intentions to attempt to drive a wedge between Tristan and me.
I should tell him the truth—I know he’ll believe my side of the story—but I just can’t.
My reasons for holding my tongue still stand. Heck, they’re standing even stronger than they did before. I don’t just care about Tristan—I adore him. I’m crazy in love with this man, and my feelings only grow stronger with every passing day. I can’t bear the thought of introducing pain into his life. Especially not because of a psycho ex-girlfriend who will be out of the country—and out of our lives—in a handful of weeks.
So instead of spilling the beans, I say, “I know. And I’m sorry about that, but I still think it’s best to keep the past in the past. I can promise you that I never tried to hurt Kim in any way. That’s just not who I am. But I really would prefer to leave it at that. Can you trust me? Even without all the gory details?”
“Of course I can,” Tristan says without missing a beat. “And I do. You shouldn’t be pressured into sharing things you’re not ready to share because Kim is sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong. I only want your secrets when you think I’ve earned them, Zoey.”
Pain flashes through my chest. My first instinct is to swear to him that this has nothing to do with my secrets—that I’m only trying to protect him—but that would tip my hand and send him rushing to the very conclusions I’m trying to keep under lock and key. “Thank you,” I say instead. “You really are the best.”
“That remains to be seen. Let’s see if I can coax Luke into his costume before we start handing out awesome boyfriend awards.”
I grin. “No way. You’re the awesome-est. Nominations are closed, and the envelope is sealed. And don’t worry if Luke is skittish. I can wrestle him into his eel gear after I’m finished getting my costume on.”
“Sounds good. I’m going to grab that shower. Can’t wait to see the results of the transformation.”
“Thirty minutes, maybe less,” I promise as his footsteps move away down the hall.
I climb out of the tub, surveying my paint job in the bathroom mirror—Violet did a stellar job, and I can tell my face makeup is going to complement the pale purple base perfectly. My tentacle dress slides on easily over my swimsuit top and shorts, fitting even better than it did before, now that my padded bikini top is providing some extra stuffing up top, and my plastic shell jewelry provides the finishing touches. I apply my makeup—following the steps in a tutorial I found online—and finally slide the white wig into place, completing the look and standing back to soak in the big picture.
Even I, my own harshest Halloween critic, have to admit that I look incredible—sexy and a touch scary, with the combo of purple skin and black eyeliner making my eyes pop so bright and blue they look like they’re glowing. The Sexy Ursula experiment is a complete success, but I can’t seem to recapture the giddy excitement of earlier this afternoon, and I don’t rush out of the bathroom to show Tristan the way I would have before he dropped the Kim bomb.
There’s a bigger picture there, too, one I’m not seeing clearly, and that nags at my brain, dulling the innocent enjoyment of playing dress-up with the people I love.
Love…
I start to nibble at my bottom lip but force myself to stop before I smear my ruby red lipstick.
Kim still being in love with Tristan would explain why she’s texting and swinging by the shelter to tell tall tales about how awful I was to her in college. Does she actually want him back? Or is this just her wanting to make sure he isn’t happy with anyone else—or at least, not with me, the girl she decided to hate at first sight?
And where does Bear and the “patience” I heard them whispering about come in?
I feel like I’m right there, on the verge of pulling it all into focus… But before the puzzle pieces can fall into place, claws scratch against the door, and Luke lets out a mournful whimper.
“I’m coming, buddy, just a second,” I say, giving my wig one last fluff. There will be time to sort out Kim’s latest head game later. Tonight is for fun and friends and enjoying the spookiest night of the year with my amazing boyfriend.
I open the door to find Luke already dressed in his evil, green and purple, electric eel costume and Tristan standing behind him, looking a mind-melting mixture of ridiculous and sexy-as-hell that has me doubled over laughing in seconds.
Luke barks, bounding back and forth in the hall, clearly enjoying the excitement.
“This is not the reaction I was hoping for,” Tristan says, running a hand down the front of his long white beard, the one that covers his chest but leaves his drool-worthy six-pack out for show-and-tell. “I’m a very serious merman, you know. I demand respect from my subjects, witch, not LOLs.”
I stand, fighting to regain control and keep tears of laughter from slipping from my eyes and wrecking my makeup. “Oh, man, I’m so sorry, King Triton.” I pat Luke on the head, helping to calm us both down. “You are very serious. I can tell by the lobster tucked in the front of your fins.”
Tristan grins as he points at the stuffed lobster peeking out from the top of his sparkling blue merman tail—a pair of bellbottoms that flare into fins at his calves. “You like that? I ordered it on the sly to surprise you.”
“Oh, I love it,” I say, grinning so hard my jaw is starting to hurt. “Though I
do feel tempted to ask if that’s a lobster in your pants or if you’re just happy to see me.”
He moves in, wrapping his arm around my waist and drawing me close as Luke circles our legs. “Both, baby, because you are the sexiest sea witch in the ocean. How do you manage to look this hot painted purple?”
“Spring lilac, specifically. I tried on ten different colors until I found the perfect shade of sea witch.”
“Oh, it’s perfect, all right.” His hand drops down to cup my ass above where one of my tentacles curls out into the air. “And the octopus look is really working for me. I think I’m developing a fish fetish as we speak.”
“Octopi are mollusks, not fish.” I arch an imperious brow even as I press closer, running my hands up his smooth, sculpted back, relishing the feel of his warm skin against my fingertips. “Cephalopods, in particular.”
“I stand corrected, pet detective.”
“Me, too,” I say, smoothing his whiskers from his mouth. “I thought it would be easy to keep my hands off King Triton. I had no idea you would be this delicious. Ridiculous, but delicious.”
“I had no doubt you’d be hot. You always are.” His lids droop to half-mast, taking on that sexy, sleepy look that’s growing more familiar with every passing day. It’s an invitation I usually find impossible to refuse, but tonight—for the good of the trick-or-treaters of Healdsburg, who need to see our magnificent ensembles—I must fight the good fight.
“No way.” I take a step back, moving out of his arms and pointing a stern finger at his chest. “No pouncing until we party.”
“Then I get to toss your tentacles over your head and take you like the king of the ocean?” he asks, sending a sizzle across my skin.
“Oh, yes,” I promise, threading my fingers through his. “That sounds wonderful.”
And it does—so wonderful I can’t help skip-dancing through the house to the door, feeling like the luckiest girl in the world.
Chapter 20
Tristan
Outside, dusk has fallen, and a few tiny superheroes and toddler princesses are already making their way down the street from house to house—getting a jump on the trick-or-treating fun under watchful parental eyes before the big kids take over and run wild after dark.
Zoey and I leave our bowl of candy at the end of the drive by the smiling scarecrow she propped up on a throne of hay bales a few days ago, stick a sign saying Take two, Happy Halloween! into the nearly overflowing container, and head off with Luke trotting in front of us.
He’s taken to his eel costume far better than I’d hoped, and it isn’t long before he’s drawing happy squeals of delight from trick-or-treaters. Zoey and I get our share of smiles, laughs, and compliments, as well. We’re stopped twice for pictures on our way through the square—once by the Gazette photographer covering the annual festivities and once by a teenager wearing a terrifying clown costume, who swears that Ursula is her spirit animal.
By the time we reach the party on Johnson Street, things are already in full swing.
A song from The Nightmare Before Christmas blasts from the speakers, pumpkin lights hang in a crisscross pattern over the partiers in the walled-in backyard, and three older men dressed as Gandalf, Dumbledore, and the Wicked Witch of the West in drag are handing out candy to the early trick-or-treaters, clearly already a few beers into the twelve pack on the table behind their candy bin.
“Oh, my,” Zoey says, pressing a hand to her lavender chest as her gaze sweeps back and forth across the lawn. “It’s amazing! Like the Haunted Mansion at Disneyland, but a thousand times better.”
“The Mortons don’t play around when it comes to Halloween,” I agree, admiring the cobwebs wafting from the trees in the front yard, the giant spiders crawling up the white siding of the old gingerbread Victorian, and the ghostly shapes moving in front of the darkened windows of the second floor.
There’s an elaborate pet cemetery set up on one corner of the lawn, where motion activated black cats and ghostly dogs pop out from behind the gravestones as trick-or-treaters walk by. On the other side of the lawn is a gorgeous faux-marble statue of a Victorian woman whose eyes open and close every few moments—glowing red in the dusky light before winking shut again.
“And we haven’t even made it to the backyard.” I lean down to whisper in Zoey’s ear, “That’s where they have the haunted photo booth and the Morton kids’ spooky tree house tour. They’re teenagers now, so the tree house gets scarier every year.”
“Wow. I’m blown away.” Zoey reaches out to squeeze my hand as she lifts her sky-blue eyes to mine. “Thank you for bringing me. And for scoring an invite for Violet, too, so she won’t have to spend the night alone. I can already tell this is going to be the best Halloween ever.”
A rush of warmth floods through me, and it’s all I can do not to kiss her sweet mouth and smear her sea witch lipstick. I adore this woman, every part of her—from the way she stands up for what she believes in, to her commitment to kindness in all things, to her devotion to excellence in Halloween costumes, and everything in between. “I wouldn’t want to be here without you.”
Truly, I don’t want to be anywhere without Zoey, and I’m hoping she feels the same way. I’m taking a risk with the gift I tucked into the lobster puppet in my tail—she might think this is all too much, too soon—but I’m done second-guessing my gut or my heart. Especially when both are telling me to wrap this woman up in my arms and never let her go.
Bypassing the front porch, we head straight for the party-in-progress in the backyard. As we approach, a delighted squeal sounds from the gate. A moment later, it swings open and the Morton’s oldest daughter, Grace, dressed as the Queen of Hearts from Alice in Wonderland, appears, waving us inside. “Get in here, you animals. Look at you three! You’re fabulous! And purple makeup! That’s so badass.” She laughs a little too loudly, making me wonder how many cups of rum punch she’s had already. “And I always knew Triton and Ursula were going to hook up eventually. I mean, I called that shit in sixth grade, didn’t I, Mom?”
“Yes, Grace, but don’t cuss in front of me, okay? Let me pretend college hasn’t turned you into a hellion with the mouth of a sailor.” Her mom, Deedee, grins at us and holds out two antique-looking goblets. “But she’s right, you guys are absolutely fabulous. You might as well go straight over to the trophy table and grab first prize. Not a soul here will blame you. I’m Deedee, by the way. You must be Zoey. It’s so nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you, too.” Zoey accepts her goblet and shakes Deedee’s hand before Grace ushers us into the gazebo for the obligatory “arrival at the party” photo. The photographer urges us to look “fierce and fishy,” and then the flash goes off, leaving us both blinking as we head to the refreshment table.
“They have a professional photographer, too?” Zoey whispers as I let Luke off his leash and he heads immediately for Clarence, the Mortons’ basset hound, an old friend from the dog park who’s camped out by the fire pit.
“They do, and they send out pictures via email after the party.”
“ZOMG, that’s amazing. I’ll have a souvenir of how hot you are as a merman to pet and lick forever and ever.” Zoey’s eyes dance as she holds her goblet out for a fill-up from the mummy serving punch.
“You don’t need a souvenir. I’ll dress up as Triton for you anytime, baby.”
Zoey wiggles her extra-dark Ursula brows at me as I wait for my serving of rum and fresh juice. “You’re good to me, but Ursula is only out to play for tonight. Her makeup is way too high maintenance for a repeat performance any time soon.”
“Understood,” I say with a wink. “Guess I’ll just have to make the most of my one night with the sea witch.”
We wander away from the refreshment table and search the crowd chatting in chairs and comfy sofas on the large deck, waiting in line for a tree house tour, and dancing to “Witchy Woman” on the glowing dance floor.
“Do you see Violet?” Zoey asks, pressing up on tiptoe
. “She said she was coming straight here from the hairdresser.”
I scan the tops of the various female heads but don’t see Violet’s signature long, dark locks. “No, but she might be inside getting some food. They keep the full buffet in there to cut down on bug contamination.”
“A full buffet.” Zoey sighs happily. “Tell me they’re serving shrimp that I can clutch dramatically between my blood-red sea witch nails, and I’ll know that I’ve died and gone to heaven.”
“I don’t know, but we can go check.”
“Yes, let’s!” Zoey giggles as she grabs my hand, hauling me toward the back door. Inside, we move past another mini-dance-party—the under-ten set bobbing to something fresher than the old folks’ tunes outside while throwing darts at a board on the wall—and into the massive kitchen. The buffet is laid out on the island, but the crowd is too thick to see from the door what’s on offer, so Zoey and I slide into line behind an older woman dressed as a fairy godmother.
“Once we eat, I have something I want to show you,” I say, unable to wait a minute longer to ask the question burning a hole inside me. “A secret passageway Deacon showed me when Tristan, Dylan, and I were kids.”
“That would be amazing,” Zoey says, bouncing on her toes. “Secret passageways are one of my top ten favorite things. Or they would be if I’d ever been through one before. And then can we go on the tree house tour? I’ll have to get up there before I have more than one glass of punch, or I’m afraid I’ll fall off the ladder.”
“It has steps that wind around the tree,” I say, taking a plate from the woman in a chef’s coat manning a pan of dry-rub ribs. “So you’ll be safe. Two please.”
“Wow, they really do have all the bases covered. I’m so impressed.” Zoey yips softly in excitement. “Oh, and Tristan look! Shrimp cocktail! Four o’clock! I’ve never been so glad I decided to be a pescatarian instead of a straight-up veggie girl.”
I laugh, her excitement contagious. “Amazing. I’ll get some, too. But we may have to put my lobster in the corner somewhere, so he can’t witness the carnage. Because you know I’m going to have to take down a few of those crab legs, too.”
