Chapter 10

Lilith

The next few days were a blur of not-enough-sleep for both of us and more "enforced cuddle time" than was probably healthy. It became a game to see how quickly I could force Alistair's "shuttle" from its hiding place within his body, and my questing fingers and bare breasts were often enough to leave him a babbling, twitchy mess with a drooling cock. We ravished each other nearly every moment we weren't at work, and it was painfully difficult to tear myself away from his vibrating, thrusting body long enough to eat. I spent more time at his place than my own, making sure to stop in to check on my plant and weird little toadstools, but otherwise we were working or in his apartment. He'd even started tucking me into his bed at night, complete with a kiss on the forehead, before he left for work.

I refused to think about the future, living in complete denial that anything could ever change. I was simply content to be amazed that he felt the same way about me that I did about him.

One evening I came home from work early, and since I knew he wouldn't be awake yet—and I wouldn't be able to keep my hands off of him if I were close enough to touch him—I stopped by my apartment downstairs to check on the mushrooms and make me some tea. It would give me a distraction so he could sleep longer without me pawing at him with my greedy little hands.

I'd just filled my kettle and set it on the stove when a spectral messenger glimmered into existence above the worktop to my left. I blinked at the unexpected flicker of light, taking a moment to comprehend that I needed to pay the toll, and then reaching into my pocket to take hold of the little calling stone that was hidden there and push a tiny bit of my magic into it.

"Good eve, my lovely Lilith." Boylen's voice drifted from the swirl of light, taking me by surprise.

It was all at once comforting and concerning. The timbre of his voice reminded me of my childhood—of potting up seedlings with my mother in the back room of her brother's nursery, of filching candies from the bowl in his office that I figured out later he only ever put out when he knew I'd be coming, of helping unload supply deliveries for him as a teen for overly generous amounts of pocket money, of pep talks and consoling pats when an interaction with a customer didn't go the way I wanted after he'd officially hired me, of an offer to take over his position as the day-to-day manager at his beloved nursery. But I was also concerned because there was something off in his voice. A tiredness that wasn't usually there, or apprehension perhaps.

"Good eve, Uncle Boylen," I greeted in return, allowing the spectral time to convey my message. "Is something wrong?"

A dry chuckle sounded into the empty space, followed by a barely audible sigh. "You know me too well, Lilith. No, no, nothing is wrong , as it were. I've just had a lot on my mind today. I'm calling because we need to discuss the other niece in my employ."

"Melantha? What's wrong with Melantha?" The kettle began to hiss, so I removed it from the heat and poured it into the teapot to steep.

"It appears it is time to do some restructuring."

Confusion set in, various scenarios flipping through my mind, and I paused in my pouring, holding the kettle aloft while I thought. Surely he would have told me if she'd been failing at her job or he needed to replace her as a manager for one reason or another.

He continued, unable to see my obvious bewilderment. "Her husband is nearly finished with his internship at the clinic here in the city, and as expected, was offered a permanent position there."

"Oh, that's great!" Relief flooded me. I was happy for her and her husband, Ellin. She'd told me often how hard he'd worked to secure that internship and the full-time employment that he hoped it would bring at the kinesthetics clinic for wyverns. He loved working with the smaller ones the cart drivers used and had even taken an interest in the racing wyverns at the local track.

"It is," my uncle agreed. "However, he's also been offered a position a few hours away at the clinic in Eastwood Heights."

" Oh. " I suddenly saw the problem. If he took the position in Eastwood Heights, the commute would be too far for Melantha to work at Blossom and Bonsai any longer, and my uncle suddenly had a management opening to fill there… or at my shop, if he needed me to come back and take my old position already.

"Indeed," he agreed, hearing all my unspoken conclusions from that one syllable. "And after much discussion, they've decided to leave their decision up to you."

"To me?" I repeated, utterly baffled. What did I have to do with it?

"Well, yes, to decide what you want to do. The management position here at Blossom and Bonsai is still yours, as I said it was when you left. And if you do plan to come back to it, then it would make the most sense for Melantha and Ellin to go ahead and relocate for this job offer."

"I didn't know not coming back to it was an option." I heard myself say the words, but I hadn't meant to speak them. I shook my head at myself and finished emptying the kettle into the teapot as he replied.

"Why wouldn't it be an option? You make me sound like some kind of slave driver," he said with a confused laugh. But my statement hadn't entirely been about him. I'd just never personally considered not returning as an option. It had been my entire goal ever since he'd brought up purchasing this second nursery. Hadn't it? My mind flickered to Alistair. I wasn't ready to leave yet.

"Melantha is happy enough in your position here as head manager, and as you saw on your recent visit, she has nearly— not quite , mind you , but nearly—grown into the shoes you left for her to fill. She's not there yet, but she will be. But of course, the position still belongs to you and is yours to return to, if you want it. The question is: do you want it? Because if you do plan to return to it, then they need to know that so they can make plans to relocate to Eastwood Heights soon so he can take the position there. However, if that is the case, then I would need you to return in the next week or so to take over for her here so that they can begin relocating. Stars know I'm too old for the daily task of management anymore, but I could do it for a week or two if I must." I ignored his grumbling. The man was barely over 100 years old, which was hardly old at all for an elf.

"What would happen here?" I asked numbly. "What about The Floral Dilemma?"

"We could sell it," he said, and even as he said it, I rejected the notion. "You've done such a nice job revitalizing it that I could easily turn a tidy profit already."

"I don't want to sell it." It wasn't mine to sell, but I knew my uncle would respect my wishes anyway.

"Well, it's running well enough that if you think your man Artem could handle it, you could appoint him to management," he offered, sounding unsure. He knew from their brief interactions just as well as I did how little Artem liked interacting with customers. "Or hire another manager. Or," he continued, "if you are content to continue on as you are at The Floral Dilemma, then I could grant her this position permanently and her husband would take the position at the clinic here. She said both clinics have positives and negatives and he's open to both placements. But then you would no longer have the option to return here as manager, so that's why we all thought it would be best for you to choose what you wanted to do, and then Melantha and Ellin will make their plans from there. I hate to put you on the spot, my dear Lilith, but he will need to respond to these job offers shortly."

I wanted to tell him I would return. Of course I would return . I'd done what I'd set out to do—I'd remade the shop, made it profitable, and was working on creating a steady enough flow of customers to make it sustainable. I'd pretty much completed all my goals. Mostly.

I ignored the pang of discomfort I felt about leaving behind The Floral Dilemma. It's not like I was attached to the little store or the new regulars who'd started to pop in on delivery days to see what new plants were available. Or the grumpy old dryad. Or the peppy, chipper dwarf who drove us crazy. I just didn't like leaving things unfinished, that was all. Artem wouldn't be happy about being left in charge, but he was more than capable, in my opinion. And surely he wouldn't turn his nose up at whatever raise Boylen would ply him with for taking on the extra duties.

Alistair was a harder pang to ignore. The thought of not getting to see him again didn't feel good at all. At all.

"Can I have a little bit of time to think about it?" My voice was shakier than I expected it to be, and Boylen's tone took on a gentler inflection.

"Of course, dear one. And listen, I don't want you to worry about me. You've spent your whole life working to make me proud, and you have. I am so proud. I've loved having the chance to work so closely with my family, and I adore you and Melantha both. You're both good, strong workers, and I couldn't ask for better. There is no wrong answer here for either of you. I want you to do what makes you happy."

I was near tears as I thanked him and released the messenger, leaving my pot of tea untouched on the counter. I found myself drifting into the living room, standing in front of the pretty little pothos that Alistair had gifted me and actively ignoring the presumably judgy stares of the mushrooms and the warty little frog that had forcibly inserted themselves into my home and my heart. Alistair's advice had been to simply allow the frog to stay and make sure he had a dish of water and feed him grubs. Grubs!

Well, if they insisted on being here, they could bear witness to my existential crises.

"How am I supposed to sort this out?" I asked the potted menagerie. Patrick simply blinked his big, empty eyes at me. No thoughts. The toadstools pretended like they couldn't hear me.

I knew what my heart wanted.

But I also knew what was smart. Safe. Routine. Normal. I had my condo, and my friends, my family, all my familiar creature comforts back in New Caelora. The thought of shutting the door on all of that and starting a new life here was hard. I liked my old life . My mind drifted back to the wedding, though, to how unhappy I'd been the whole time I'd been home and how desperately I'd just wanted to come back to Alistair, and we hadn't even been together at that point.

Strangely, Alistair's words from a conversation directly before that weekend came back to me then, from when he'd introduced me to the fuzz berry pastries and was describing how he missed the delicate fruit. "But, I think, somehow, that fleeting window of availability, their rarity, their uniqueness… It all makes them that much more special." His words weighed heavy on my heart.

My window of availability for what I really wanted was fleeting, and unlike the fruit, I wasn't willing to bank on this one coming around again.

I decided I wasn't going to miss it.