Chapter 19

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Happy Mother's Day…to me?

It's the flowers on my bedside table that catch my attention first, mostly because they are vibrant, unfamiliar, and perhaps the most beautiful blossoms I've ever seen. I don't need anyone to tell me they aren't from the human realm.

I do need the crisp, gold-lined card to explain why they're here, and, subsequently, why the purple petals adorning my comforter trail out of my bedroom.

Due to my nightmare of a childhood, I'm a fairly light sleeper.

How Alexios managed to get these flowers to my nightstand and steal my baby—yet again, because he does this, often, so I can sleep in on the mornings I don't have school—is a testament to his abilities as a faerie.

The power imbalance should make me more nervous than it does.

Maybe I'm calm because I understand that if I ever come into my faerie blood, I get to yoink his powers for myself. Anything he can do, I will do better. Basically.

Yawning, I sit up, pull the elegant card free from the flowers, and snap it open. I rub an eye as I read the flowing cursive. That, for the record, I cannot do better…

Happy Mother's Day, snowflake!

Daddy and baby are waiting for you downstairs with breakfast.

But breakfast is only the first thing on today's agenda.

Follow the petals to the loves of your life.

My heart constricts as my mind catches up to the fact today is Sunday . Mother's Day. My first Mother's Day as a mother. Lips parted, I stare at the objective stupidity where Daddy and loves of your life are concerned, but then I also fight back tears.

Alexios…isn't my boyfriend or my lover or anything. He's a live-in babysitter and my soulmate, which is a fact I'm adamantly ignoring all plot points about. That said, remembering Mother's Day, giving me flowers, and promising breakfast outshines husbands everywhere.

What makes it even more heartwarming is that faeries don't celebrate holidays.

They shun matters of calendar obligation. Gift giving can be a minefield of twisted words and demanded favors, so events wrapped around an expectation of gifts aren't a thing for them. Andromeda's told me that accepting anything from a faerie who doesn't wordlessly thrust their gifts into your hands could be a trap.

When a faerie asks if you want something, they're gauging interest. And that interest provides an angle for manipulation.

Or something.

I don't know exactly.

All I know is that Alexios—sneaky bugger that he is—does not appear to be asking any questions with this card, so I dip my nose into a flower, let the sweet aroma calm my heart, brush my teeth, get dressed, and make my way into the hall. The petal trail very clearly leads downstairs, but it also very clearly leads back upstairs on the other side of the steps.

Blinking at the petals that disappear into one of my unused guest rooms, I take myself down the steps between the two paths, fortifying myself for the worst as I go.

Alexios doesn't like food, and Ash certainly can't cook.

Whatever I'm heading toward is going to be atrocious.

I mean. Come on. Both of "my boys" are less than a year old. This is nothing short of letting the four-year-old concoct something disastrous for Mommy instead of just ordering her something nice from a restaurant. At least Alexios knows how to clean. He's proven that. I've not seen dust since he started living with me.

Small victories.

Be gracious.

He's trying to do something nice, and I…

My heart stops when I lift my gaze off the floor at the entrance to the kitchen.

Standing at the stove with Ash in his baby wrap, Alexios flips something in a frying pan with an edge of professionalism that leaves me tongue-tied. Whatever he's making smells amazing.

Stiff, I attempt to get a better look and identify what he's up to. He's got the frying pan in one hand, a long pair of chopsticks in the other.

He's not…

Surely he isn't making one of the most difficult types of eggs ever.

He hates eggs. And rice. And, you know, food .

Where in the world did he learn how to make omurice ?

"Morning, angel," he says, without looking my way.

My mouth goes dry, and it occurs to me I have not closed it for a solid minute.

Alexios tilts his head back toward the table. "Go ahead and take a seat."

My gaze skids toward the table, and I find more flowers. They're woven into a quilt of petals that cushions a bowl made out of a melon. Strawberries cut like stars create a foundation for the array of other fruits shaped to look like a lavish garden with two snuggling bats in the center.

"You can start on the fruit," Alexios notes, plating the pillowy egg atop a bed of fried rice. Surgically, he checks the contents in a generic plastic ketchup bottle that I use sometimes when I host cookouts. "I'm about to test my hand at kanji…" he murmurs. "May Alana's obsession with it in ninth grade not fail me now…"

Dazed, I sit myself down, pluck a fruit flower, and stare.

Alexios startles me when he sets the plate of omurice in the spot perfectly framed by flowers before me.

Japanese letters written in ketchup rest across the fluffy egg, tiny hearts speckling every empty spot.

"Oh." Alexios returns to the stove, opens the cabinet beside it, and finds his way back to me, setting a shaker down. "It might need some salt. The recipe said salt to taste , and, well, I wasn't going to attempt that one."

"Smart…" I lift the spoon on the side of the plate, trying desperately to keep it together. "What does it say?"

Pulling out the chair beside me, Alexios shapes his hands into a heart as he sits down. "Aishitemasu." My heart trips, because I know that one before he clarifies: " I love you. "

The only logical thing for me to do at this point is cut my spoon directly through the most detailed Japanese character, scoop up egg and rice, and shove the mouthful in my face. So, obviously, this is what I do. Post haste.

Cracking the two halves of his hand heart apart, Alexios pouts.

The viciousness is quite entirely all I can do to keep from sobbing.

After choking back tears throughout breakfast while Alexios picked at the figs in the fruit display, I am not ready for him to lead me back up the stairs, along the petal path, to whatever next activity he has coordinated.

"Full disclosure," he says, as we approach the ominous guest bedroom door, "you may not be comfortable with this next part."

My guy, my emotions are already on the verge of collapse, what more could you—

He opens the door for me and stands back so I can see inside.

It's…a photo set. He's erected a crisp white sheet behind the small cream day bed I normally keep by the window in this room. More flowers and greenery flood the space, creating an illusion of having walked into a professional studio. Apart from the sea of lavish foliage, stunning dresses pile high on the bed, purples and greens and blacks and whites. My colors. Done up in pristine elegance.

"Where…" I clear my throat and moisten my lips. "Where did you get all this?"

"I work in a flower shop in Faerie sometimes, so I have a few connections." Heat deepens the shade in his cheeks as he lets his gaze skim the clothing on the bed. "As for those…those are mine."

"Yours?"

To clarify, he lifts his hand and lets the glove he always wears disappear, then reappear.

My heart thuds.

"That's the part I don't know whether or not you'll be comfortable with."

"You…want me to wear your magic?"

He sets a hand against Ash's back while my little boy sleeps comfortably in the wrap. "It occurred to me while I was planning the holiday. Your phone isn't enchanted to see past glamour. Its camera can't capture the fae. You don't have any photos of Ash, and you definitely don't have any photos of the two of you together. You're welcome to wear whatever makes you comfortable, of course. I just wanted some nice options available for you."

If this morning has taught me anything at all, Alexios is capable of so much more extravagance than he lets on.

It's odd, considering his general demeanor leans more heavily toward drown me in a lake after you hit me with your car . Given how many times I've caught him mid-existential crisis draped across my living room couch, staring at the ceiling, unblinking, the fact he's so capable in moments like these shocks my system.

My heart rate kicks into overdrive.

Alexios has set things up to allow me pretty professional-level photos to commemorate my first Mother's Day with my baby.

I desperately want pretty professional-level Mother's Day photos with my baby.

Swallowing, I ask, "What exactly does wearing your magic feel like—"

"Normal clothes," he interjects, lifting an arm. "I actually tend to keep mine lighter than most normal clothes you might be used to, so the sensation of them against my skin is less likely to irritate me. To you, they may feel as weightless as air."

Wearing air. That he controls. My lips press together. "I mean…what will it feel like, to you?"

His eyes lock on mine, and I watch the way his pupils swallow the storms in his irises whole. Dragging his gaze off, he whispers, "It will be a…an intimate thing, yes. I promise not to take advantage of what I could do with your trust if you wish to use the garments I've made for you." His throat bobs. "Nothing is so constricting that I…I'd learn more than the idea of your…form."

Oh. "So. It's like touch?"

Alexios's hand closes into a fist as the slightly-pointed tips of his ears peaking through his long hair grasp shades of crimson. "N-no. I…" Breath leaves him, and he closes his eyes. "I don't have nerves in my magic, but I do control the shape of the fabric. For it to fit correctly, I'll have to adjust the measurements to your body."

My shoulders drop before I even gather the fact I'd gone tense. "Oh. That's no big deal, then. I don't care if you know my size." I place a hand to my bounteous bosom. "I have come a long way in accepting my classification as a plus-size woman." I trot my way over to the superfluous array of garments. "If it's not like a full naked-body hug, I'm totally okay with that." My flesh prickles as I caress something silken. It's so soft. I can almost delude myself into picturing the sensation of his magic in every thread. I can't hold back my smile. "I'm so excited." When I look back at Alexios, he seems starstruck, and I…I'm crying.

In two steps, he's near me, and I'm flinching back as his hand lifts.

He pauses. "Shh…" When I don't tense again, he cups my cheek, soaking my tears into his glove. "What's wrong? Is it too far?"

My voice breaks. "No one…has ever gone half this far…for me." My lips tremble, and I bite down the heart-wrenching thank you threatening to escape. Ever since Andromeda told me the rule about thanking the fae, I've removed thank from my vocabulary. I've not said thank you for months. Almost a full year now. But, in this moment, it's sticking in my throat, feeling like my very soul is trying to break free.

Gently, Alexios wraps me in a hug that snuggles Ash between our bodies. Kissing the top of my head, he skims his fingers through my hair—from the short side to the long. "Get used to it." His cheek plants, comfortable weight against my temple as he whispers sweet nothings in my ear. "I'm going to spoil you senseless today and I'll find new ways to keep doing so going forward."

"I don't—" I sniffle, gulping down air. "—even deserve all this. I'm barely a mother. You take care of so much. You—you're too competent ."

"I am a catch, it's true. Excellent husband material. One hundred percent pure, attractive father-of-your-children right here. You'll get over it, I'm sure. I have faith in you."

I'd shove him away for the lilting smug attitude in his voice, but Ash is plastered to his chest.

Graciously, Alexios pulls himself back. Cruelly, he hooks a finger beneath my chin, forcing my damp eyes to focus on his. "Now…about you being barely a mother when you're working two jobs to support this family and love our baby with every cell in you every chance you get…"

" My baby," I hiss.

"Of course. We're both yours. My mistake. It's a pet's pet situation." His thumb traces my jaw. "Stay on topic, snowflake. Where did you learn that you only qualify as a mother if you're exhausted and so desperate for a break, you don't even enjoy being around your family?"

Quite frankly, that's the only picture of a mother I have. Tired. Resentful. Controlling. Too hard on herself and the person she saw the most of herself in.

Me.

"You're a good mother, Zahra," Alexios says. "You're a good person. Your care and kindness reaches everyone around you, and Ash will grow up with your example of love to guide him." He steps back, leaving me strung on the words. "Also, last I checked, we shared the workload where Ash is concerned near fifty-fifty. The moment you're home from work or finish a stream, you steal him away from me. Don't take it out on yourself because I'm not like many human fathers who cannot be bothered with childcare at all." Grace incarnate—per usual—Alexios smiles and sweeps into a gentle bow that supports Ash with that stupid flourish of his hand to my baby's back. Looking up at me, he murmurs, "One day, I hope you'll find that I far exceed the quality of the average human male."

I think I'm beginning to.

Unfortunately, it is an extremely low bar to meet.