8. ISAAC

Chapter eight

ISAAC

I t was kinda mental how quickly a month passed when we were elbow deep in contest prep.

Amongst other things.

The most shocking part? I wasn't panicking. Not every day, at least. Obviously, as it drew closer and the reality sank in more and more, the idea of being in front of so many people, showing off my craft, had me bricking myself. But only a reasonable amount. I was mostly excited or too distracted to sit down and think about it.

Ash was to thank for that.

Whenever I wasn't working, we were fucking, and when we weren't doing either, we slept in the same bed because Ash was, surprisingly, a cuddler and refused to sleep on the single bed in the spare room. My bed was comfier and easier for five a.m. wake-up blow jobs, he'd said, and I couldn't disagree.

Our situation was a complex one, and if I had to label it, we were in the realm of fuck buddies, probably. But spending time with him, whether we were having sex, or bickering because he'd tried to poison my neighbour, and replaced all my clothes with fashionable alternatives, it was like a constant wave of dopamine.

It was partly to do with our ‘deal' and the benefits he'd offered up, but still. He made me feel wanted, and sexy, and it was addictive—a boost to my ego, to be sure. Being in a constant state of satisfaction also caused a domino effect. I didn't have time to dwell on my failures, and if I wasn't dwelling on my failures, I wasn't… failing? It was bonkers, and I could hardly make sense of it, but since that first night sleeping with Ash, there hadn't been nearly as many disasters.

I hadn't had an anxiety attack in weeks, and I felt… good. Clear-headed and calm. I laughed more with him around. Even Wayne had made a comment about it when we'd last met, and that was progress in itself. Ash's presence here seemingly had everything falling into place. He'd come into my life at exactly the right time, pulled me from my hole before it got irreversibly deep, and steered me back on track.

It was almost as if accidentally summoning a demon and having sex with him to unlock his magic worked like the charm it was meant to.

Who'd have thunk it?

Except Ash kept insisting that he wasn't using magic to help me. That he had no need to, and I wouldn't have believed him if he hadn't clicked his fingers, glamoured his demon attributes, and taken on the role of my assistant in the shop. I'd thought it was a joke at first, or part of some bigger scheme that wouldn't outlast the week—manual labour outside of the bedroom was not his thing—but he'd proven me wrong. He came to work every morning, at a more reasonable hour as he needed time to make himself presentable , but that wasn't an issue since he was actually really useful.

And good at it.

He left me to handle the flower arranging, mostly, although an afternoon masterclass had shown he was excellent at that, too. He would schmooze with customers, work the till, give me encouragement whenever I felt my mask slip, and hold down the fort whenever I was out making deliveries. It was kinda perfect, and despite my initial reservations, I could admit, if only to myself, that having an extra pair of hands around wasn't as catastrophic as I'd once made it out to be. Accepting his help didn't feel like grounds for a mental breakdown. It didn't make me feel weak or less capable, but maybe that had to do with it being him, and how easy and… nice it was having him around more than anything else.

It also didn't hurt that, since his first day, my monthly sales had shot up tenfold.

It had to be magic, even if it was just a sprinkle. I refused to buy it was coincidence that after every time we fucked, a miracle seemed to happen. But then again, why would he bother getting his hands dirty if that were the case? Usually, he whinged if I so much as insinuated that the dishes needed to be washed, but maybe working with the flowers was a more agreeable type of work for him?

I wasn't complaining. Whatever he was doing, he was free to keep doing it, but it just struck me as odd that the only change I'd made in the shop was him , and everything was already so different. Yes, he was charming, and though he still had that air of the upper class about him—even dressed in more ‘ordinary' garb—the customers found him approachable. But that didn't really explain why I'd gone from barely needing to order stock once a week, to twice, or even three times.

Like today .

I'd popped out to run a few errands and pick us up some lunch, leaving Ash in charge since he was more than capable. I'd been gone for maybe two hours, tops, but came back to bare shelves and empty buckets.

My first thought was that we'd been robbed, though there were no dead bodies strewn across the floor, or piles of smoking ash, so maybe not.

"What do you mean you sold everything?" I dumped the food bags on the counter in front of where Ash sat, feet up, book in hand, calm as anything.

Not at all concerned.

"Exactly as I said, my dear." He flipped the page he was on, and the action brought my attention to his nimble fingers, now sans metal claw-cuffs.

It never failed to astound me how good he looked in a more human form. It probably shouldn't have, as he'd pull off anything, and it wasn't as if a lot had changed—his horns gone, his fangs blunt. More on par with an Oxford professor than the demon-prince vibe he typically aced. Still, I couldn't help but find it a little jarring, even if it was only for a few hours a day until we headed back upstairs where he could unveil and be his full self again.

I'd grown accustomed to his demonness and, dare I say, it suited him better. Infinitely so. Especially those orange eyes, vibrant like the petals on a Naranja rose when they flared as his emotions ran passionate. They were temporarily dimmed to a more natural amber-tinged brown, equally beautiful, but I barely resisted lighting a fire just to see a reflection of their natural state.

A total digression to the issue at hand.

I dragged my gaze away from him to take another scan of the place. There were one or two candles, a picture frame, and literally a single stalk of fern left. The last time I'd seen it so empty was the day I'd moved in.

I turned back to him, stunned. "You said you weren't using any magic. Not that it matters if you are, but—"

He snorted as if there was some kind of inside joke that I wasn't involved in. "No need, petal. Just look at me."

I stared at him blankly, confused about exactly what I was supposed to be looking at. His hair was especially pretty today, tied up in a messy bun as it was, showing off his now-rounded ears, and the deep V of his linen shirt that accentuated his sharp collarbones perfectly. But I doubted that was what he meant. "Is something supposed to be happening? Are you hypnotising the customers?"

That must've been the wrong reaction as Ash's eyes narrowed and he slammed his book on the counter, not even dog-earing the page. "Either you're being purposely obtuse or your eyes are failing you. It's the only conclusion one could draw for how you're not immediately landing on how gorgeous I am."

"What…" I blinked, and I had to admit, it took me a good second to catch on. "Are you trying to say that you sold every last flower and gift in here because you're... pretty?"

He smiled. "Naturally."

Naturally.

"You're so arrogant," I said, rolling my eyes at his mock scoff of offence.

"It's called sex appeal, pet, and I happen to have it in spades. Even in this mundane form." He studied his nails. "It's hardly my fault humans are simple and moronic, and will part with their money for less than a flash of well-toned ankles or a batting of thick eyelashes."

"Flash of…" I pinched the bridge of my nose, sighing deeply. "You're unbelievable."

"Thank you, my dear. I don't even have to try." He stood with all the grace of a royal, and slid what looked like a receipt from my supplier across the counter. "I went ahead and ordered another delivery, it will—"

"You're talking shite," I cut in, not finished with the conversation, holding up my hands when Ash pouted. "Yes, you're gorgeous, that's never in dispute, but people don't just buy things willy nilly because of it."

Do they?

No, they didn't.

"I can assure you, they most certainly do. Especially whenever I'm concerned."

I shot him The Look.

"What can I say?" He leaned over the counter, closing the distance between us until I felt his breath fan my lips, making my pulse quicken. "My mouth is good for more than sucking your cock." He winked and kissed me quickly, retreating before I could reciprocate. "I told you before, pet, I use my magic when I believe it is necessary. This was not necessary."

I wanted to believe him, really, I did—especially when I had no reason not to. Why would he lie? It was exactly his style to flaunt his powers and his talents. He was a vain showman, and it was a sport to him to say what he felt even if it was brutal. So why would he be modest about this? I'd seen him use magic to conjure books and special tea leaves from thin air. Or move the bed so it wouldn't bang against the wall when he rode me like he was the front runner in the Grand National, but had he really never used it directly to help me?

If that was true, why, after sleeping with him, was everything going so well?

It didn't make any sense.

"You' re thinking on it too hard, my dear," Ash purred, coming around to stand in my space. One thing that hadn't changed in his human form was the extra inch or two of height he used to tower over me. I enjoyed it more than I cared to admit out loud. "Would you like to follow me into the back room and see exactly what can be exploited from you without the use of my powers, hm?"

"You're such a menace."

He chuckled darkly, ducking down to plant a kiss under my jaw. "That's not an answer."

Before I could accept his proposition, the bell above the door chimed, spoiling the moment.

Still, Ash straightened, grinning like the devil himself when he said, "Perhaps a more visual demonstration would serve you better?"

"We don't have anything left," I whisper-hissed, but the bastard held a finger up to my lips before sashaying over to the young guy who'd moseyed in.

Rolling my eyes, I moved to stand in the archway to the back room, giving myself a perfect view of how the customer stumbled as soon as his gaze fell upon my ‘hot assistant.'

Ash, the smug arse, peeked over his shoulder to make sure I was watching.

"Welcome, sir," he said, in that voice like warm honey. "How can I be of service? "

"Oh, aye, er…" The man cleared his throat. "I was given yer shop's name by a pal, and thought I'd pop in for a dozen roses. For the mother, ye ken."

"It's good to hear that we're being recommended." Ash smiled, and I knew he noticed—just like I did—the way the customer's cheeks grew two shades pinker. Bloody tool. "Unfortunately, we're all sold out today, but I can put you first on the list for when our delivery comes in tomorrow?"

"Aye, that's… fine."

"Perfect!" With temptation leaching into his every step, Ash made his way back around the counter, flipping open the diary to tomorrow's date. "A dozen roses, was it? And what colour would you like those to be?"

"Oh, it's her birthday, so somethin' bright," the guy said, eyes fixed on the way tiny pieces of Ash's hair cascaded down the sides of his face. "Orange, maybe?"

"My favourite colour." Ash winked before propping himself on his elbows, giving his arse a discreet little sway in my direction. "Since it's a special occasion, can I interest you in something better?"

The guy swallowed audibly, and although relatable, I had to force myself not to scoff. Or tackle him to the floor. "What did ye have in mind?"

What didn't he have in mind, should have been the question. Ash proceeded to upsell the guy two bouquets for his mum—one for her living room and another for her bedroom—and a wreath for his grandma's grave. And he even managed to get rid of the very last two candles on the shelf because he'd moaned and said he adored the scent.

It seemed so easy for him to get whatever he wanted. From my perspective, every move was calculated and precise—the way he bit his lip, the way he bent over at the perfect angle to leave you wanting more. It all flowed with pure seduction, but he probably wasn't even trying. It was natural, a perk of his demon nature, and it made a pang of jealousy well in my belly knowing that everyone who'd come into the shop in the last month got to see the same things I did.

Those feelings were normal for friends with benefits, right?

I was so focused on appreciating the shape of Ash's arse in those tailored trousers that I didn't even notice he'd already wrapped up the customer's items and waved him out the door.

He may not have been actively using hypnosis, but it was happening, all the same.

"See? Easy as pie." He smirked, folding his arms across his chest, clearly expecting me to fall to my knees and admit he was right. Instead, I ignored him in favour of marching over to the door, locking it and flipping the sign to Closed. "We're still open for another—"

I was gripping Ash's linen shirt, dragging him down for a searing kiss before he could even finish that sentence.

And for the third time that month, I fucked him over the workbench in the back room.

I was buttoning up my jeans when a knock sounded on the shop door. Typical was my first thought, but at least they'd waited until we were finished.

With a wave of his hand, Ash went from stark naked—bite marks excluded—to fully clothed in a blink. He'd also slipped back into his human form. The horns I'd used as handles as I fucked his mouth were gone again, alongside the feathers that had sprouted over his shoulders when he'd finally let go and come all over the floor. His hair was no longer mussed or his lips blood red and kiss-bitten. It was a shame, I'd worked bloody hard to wreck him, but there was still a well-fucked look in his eyes, and that was enough to satisfy me.

For now.

"I'll see to that," Ash said, stepping in close to kiss me, slow and sweet—a little strange without his forked tongue and fangs. "And you, my dear, can go upstairs and get prepared for round two. And three."

"Prepared?" I cocked an eyebrow, amused. "Am I going to need protective gear?"

"Possibly." Ash winked and slipped off to work his charm on the customer as I shook my head and half-heartedly wiped cum off the floor and my pubes before wrestling with my shirt. I probably could have left it off, but it was a force of habit .

The bell above the door jingled, and I heard the warm and welcoming ‘good afternoon' that followed. The abundance of casual flirtiness in his voice made me roll my eyes, though it was fond. There was just something about hearing him interact with people in my shop that had a measure of giddiness swelling inside me. I would have listened to him talk for hours—a bit of a change from when we'd first met, I'd admit—but Ash had given direct orders and I'd hate to disobey.

So, with a wistful smile, I gathered up my flat keys and headed towards the stairs.

Only to freeze mid step at the sound of a familiar voice.

"Well, hello there, and who might you be? Isaac never said he'd hired an assistant."

I was through the arch before Ash had the chance to answer.

"Mum… Dad," I said, looking guiltily between my parents as they stood there beside my demon roommate—the one I'd just tongue-fucked like it was an Olympic sport in the back room—who they knew absolutely nothing about.

Fuck my life.

"What are you—"

Mum squealed and advanced, her arms stretched wide for a hug that I was too slow to prepare for. "My sweet boy, I've missed you." She squeezed tight, then pulled back, bracketing my face with her hands. "You hide yourself away too much. Are ye eating well?"

I couldn't help but snort at her fussing. "Yes, Mum. "

"Good, good." With a light tap on my cheek, she stepped back, adjusting her purse strap on her shoulder. "We were out for a drive and thought we'd pop by, see how you're getting on. Didn't expect you to be closed."

"Er, yeah." I scratched the back of my neck. "There's nothing left, so we saw no point in staying open. We were just working on something in the back room."

I caught the barest hint of a smirk flick over Ash's face, and I had to bite the inside of my cheek to hide my own. Thankfully, Dad was busy eyeing the emptiness of the shop, and Mum wasn't paying close attention, though she was trying to flag down my gaze.

I watched her pitiful attempt at eye-charades for a second before realising what she wanted. "Oh, this is Ash," I said with a wave in his direction. "He's just helping out while I prepare for the contest. Ash, this is my mum and dad."

"So nice to meet you." Mum smiled brightly, extending a hand for him to shake. "My, you are a handsome lad, aren't you?"

"Mum…"

Ash took her bluntness in his stride, probably preening like a bird in the sun with the ego boost. "It's a pleasure to meet you both."

"Polite, too." She aimed that keen observation at me with a not-so-subtle wink. I knew exactly what she was getting at, and though it was great to have her approval, I refused to entertain her matchmaking .

"He has his moments," I deadpanned, looking over at Ash until he glared back at me.

Silence fell around us, and it wasn't until I noticed Mum shivering that I jolted back into action. "Wanna go up to the flat? It's baltic in here and there's nowhere to sit."

"That would be lovely."

With a nod, I locked the door again before leading the way to the stairs in the back.

"We only planned on stopping by for a minute, but a cup of tea would be sociable, don't you think Gerald?" My dad didn't get the chance to respond as she barrelled on. "You and your friend can come over tomorrow for dinner. We can catch up properly, then."

"Oh, I don't—"

"That'd be delightful, Mrs Miller." Ash interrupted me, and when I peered over my shoulder to glower at him, he had her arm linked in his, guiding her up the stairs.

Bloody charmer.

Mum cooed, patting his arm. "Call me Angela."

We got ourselves situated in the living room, my dad making a beeline for the armchair in the corner while the rest of us squeezed like sardines onto the sofa. Ash didn't seem to mind, so I didn't make a fuss, and Mum was too busy surveying the place to care.

"You've made some changes since we last came by." She nodded approvingly. "Thank the Lord. It was such a pigsty. "

I side-eyed Ash behind her back, knowing the ‘changes' she referred to were all the personal touches he'd slowly been introducing over the last few weeks. There was a bookcase, hanging plants, some display pillows we weren't supposed to sit on, and curtains that actually fit the windows, to name a few. He'd also tackled the bedrooms and the kitchen, adding little bits here and there that I'd never have thought of buying, but didn't begrudge him. If it made him more comfortable, he could use as much cupboard space as he pleased.

But none of that would be mentioned aloud as I didn't fancy my mum thinking we were in any type of relationship.

Because we weren't. It was just fucking. We were co-workers who lived together.

And Ash was a demon.

"Tea, Mum?" I said, dodging her comment and my thoughts.

"I'll make it," Ash offered, his hand on my shoulder to stop me from getting up. He took everyone's order—except mine, as he knew it off by heart—before heading to the kitchen.

He was barely out of the room when Mum decided to lean forward and whisper, not so quietly, "He seems nice."

I nodded. "He is."

"Where is he from?"

There was a clang in the kitchen that I wasn't sure was accidental. "Er, Chelsea. "

"Ah, yes. I did suspect somewhere down London way, or thereabouts. He's very… What's the word?" Pretentious? "Posh."

Close enough .

"I suppose he is, yeah." She was fishing, and it was all part of her agenda of finding me a nice fella to settle down with. It felt pointless to even think about Ash in that capacity, what with him leaving once the bond was broken. But we also hadn't spoken about the situation ourselves , so I wasn't about to air it with my mother.

Not that he wouldn't make a desirable partner—the last month had proven it.

"He's been a massive help, and we've become friends," I said truthfully. "That's all."

She seemed suspicious, but Ash chose that moment to wander back into the living room, a tray with four mugs and a plate of biscuits in his hands.

"Here we are."

He handed them out, leaving mine for last as he perched himself on the sofa's arm. The mug surprisingly wasn't scalding hot, but I still blew away the steam before taking a sip. My brow furrowed. It wasn't the bitter instant coffee I was used to. It was much richer and smoother—fucking delicious—and I knew Ash had used his magic to whip up the expensive stuff just to impress my parents. He had his chin raised when I looked up at him, a grin on his face as if he could sense my withering stare .

Show-off.

The conversation that followed was mostly Mum nattering on about me and what I was like as a kid. My dad chimed in once or twice, but after forty-odd years of marriage, he was mostly content just to listen—he wasn't often granted a word in edgeways.

She asked Ash questions about himself, and he handled them all with grace, spinning elaborate tales of his childhood and family that I knew weren't entirely fabricated, sharing only what was necessary. It was actually fascinating to watch how easily he twisted the truth to fit the narrative. He never fumbled or panicked, just slipped from one perfect lie to the next without so much as a single eye twitch. It would have worried me if I hadn't been so certain he found enjoyment in being too honest where I was concerned. Just yesterday, he'd told me that my cooking was horrendous, then proceeded to act like I'd poisoned him.

So it was safe to say that white lies were considered a bit of a joke in our household.

For a good twenty minutes, everything seemed to be going smoothly, though, I was always in the habit of speaking too soon. Inevitably, the conversation switched to the Flower Festival, and that was where I'd predicted it would go south. Mum had told me weeks ago how excited she was for me that I'd been accepted, but she obviously wanted to revisit the topic now we were face to face.

And she had company .

"Remember when I used to take ye there as a boy?" she said wistfully, patting my leg as she directed her next words to Ash. "He loved it. The Sunflower Corner was always his favourite. They held a competition there to see who had grown the biggest sunflower, and some of them were humongous. As tall as Christmas trees."

"They were especially tall for a kid." I laughed, and Ash smiled down at me.

"That was when he started taking a real interest in flowers," she continued. "I'd come home from work and he'd be in the garden, dirt mounds all over the grass, his school uniform in a state and trainers ruined. I remember having to scrub the carpets for hours to get the muddy footprints out."

Slight exaggeration.

There was one footprint, and it was me who'd scrubbed it clean, but I let her carry on.

"He asked for tools and seeds for every birthday and Christmas. It was all he ever wittered on about, but I'll admit, it wasn't until the year he managed to grow his own sunflower, seeing the excitement on his little face, that I knew he'd found his calling."

"Didn't he fancy himself an astronaut the summer after?" my dad teased, earning a scathing look and a tut from my mum for his efforts. He winked at me when she looked away.

I hid my snort with a cough, pleased to know I wasn't the only one who'd noticed the embellishments for Ash's benefit, but not willing—or daring—to call her out on it .

Mum angled herself towards me, giving me her full attention. "When you rang to say you'd got in, it felt like that day all over again. I knew it was meant to be." She rested her hand on top of mine, and I could tell by the way her eyebrows scrunched that she was gearing up to add something sappy. "I just want you to remember how far you've come, love. You've worked bloody hard for this, and it's okay if you don't win. It's the taking part that counts."

You're not going to win.

It was disorientating how quickly every ounce of pride I'd felt in my progress drained from me. My vision grew distant, blurring slightly at the edges, and my chest suddenly felt too heavy, too tight. The last dregs of my rationality chanted that she didn't mean it badly, that she was only trying help and be supportive, but all I heard was…

Why bother trying?

I know you're not good enough, so don't be surprised if they figure it out, too.

All you ever do is fail.

She was right.

It was naive of me to think I stood a chance, that being accepted was cause for celebration. It was probably out of pity, or a mistake, because of all the florists in all the country, why the hell would they pick me? It had been a childish dream not meant to see the light of day. I should never have entered. It was a waste of time, money, and resources, and for what? To come back even more of a failure than I already was ?

I should have just thrown in the towel the first time she'd told me to, should have listened to reason, but I'd wanted so badly to prove myself. To surprise everyone, and go further than I ever had before.

For all the good it did.

Hopeless.

Incompetent.

Embarrass—

Long, familiar fingers curled around my nape and squeezed, guiding me back to the surface before I sank too far. I forced myself to blink, fixing my expression into something less sullen before looking up at Ash, stunned to see an almost worried look in his eyes. He studied me. I had no idea what for, and even less idea how long I'd zoned out, but once he seemed content that I was fine, a charming grin slipped onto his face as easily as a mask, and the air around me seemed to lighten.

"Oh, he'll do more than take part," he said, his voice full of pride and conviction. "He will make it right to the very end. I have every confidence."

Mum perked up beside me, and the fact that she hadn't removed her hand from mine or let her smile waver an inch told me just how quick Ash had acted. Or… had he frozen time?

"Good!" Mum said, enthusiastic. "Keep thinking like that. I believe in you, Iz."

What?

"What? "

"I… believe in you," she said again, her brow creasing.

"You do?"

It was the first time in years that she'd said those words out loud. Since my first hurdle, I'd been hearing that I should give up, that quitting and moving on was my best option. I'd never been given the alternatives—the encouragement, the optimism—and after so long, it had settled on me like dead weight. Brick by brick, each negative word had nestled its way inside my head and made a home there.

It wasn't her fault. Instead of being an adult and talking , I'd shut myself away, hoping it would quiet the cynical echo, but not only had it made her more desperate to ‘help,' it had shown me that being alone was somehow ten times louder.

Yet another vicious cycle of my own making.

It was as if the same realisation dawned on her at that moment. Her demeanour softened, and her eyes filled with regret.

"Oh, love. Of course I do." She dragged me into her arms, rubbing soothing circles over my back. I melted into it. "I'm so proud of you, Iz. Always. I just… I thought the reason you distanced yourself was because you felt under pressure to do well, and didn't want us to see otherwise. I only meant to take that weight off your shoulders, to make it clear that we love you no matter what. I never intended for you to think we didn't believe in you. Not at all. I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," I said, and it was .

There was a difference between knowing something and hearing it said aloud, and sometimes only the latter could validate the truth. Hearing that my family wasn't against me, that they were on my side and rooting for me was like a painkiller—instant relief.

It wasn't a permanent fix. Of course it wasn't. Only the changes I made myself could reverse the damage that had been done, but that simple ‘I believe in you' was a start. It reshelved the swarm of self-doubt, let me think clearly again and see more than just a future laden with disaster and defeat.

Everything will be okay.

Mum drew back, her hand coming up to cradle my cheek. "You silly goose." She laughed kindly. "All I want is for you to be happy, baby, but I know you have to find it your own way, at your own pace. Your father and I are here whenever you need us, though I'm certain that you and Ash have it all handled."

It was as if a magnet pulled my gaze up to Ash once more. His focus was already on me, his eyes pinning me to the spot like it was an instinct to always have me in his sights. The way he could strip my soul bare with those eyes and lay my thoughts out on a silver platter for his consumption used to set my teeth on edge, but now, it was the opposite. He was no longer a source of caution and mystery for me, he was resolution and excitement, an influence that surpassed all others and gave my life back the spark it had been missing for far too long.

Did that make him the devil on my shoulder? Possibly.

Did I give one iota of a fuck? Don't tell my mother, but …

Absolutely not.

Every part of me and my life that he had access to, he'd been given willingly, and that realisation probably should have scared me a lot more than it did.

A throat cleared off to the side, and with a start, I followed the sound. Mum was smiling at us knowingly. "We'll let you two get on," she said in that perceptive way of hers.

No wonder she and the bloody demon got on.

She rose with an oof , giving her dress a quick smooth down before rounding on me and pointing. "Dinner tomorrow night. No excuses." Her finger moved to Ash. "Both of you."

I rolled my eyes half-heartedly, chanting a monotone, "Yes, Mum" as Ash gave a polite agreement. She nodded, pacified, then trotted off to gather her purse and coat, happy as Larry to have gotten her way. Dad came over as I stood, reaching out to give my shoulder a parting squeeze.

He said nothing, but that gesture was his ‘ goodbye ,' ‘ take care ,' and ‘ keep it up ' all in one.

I didn't need anything more.

They both headed for the door with Ash and I in tow, my mum nattering about the bare walls needing some photo frames or mirrors as my dad, with all the patience of a saint, tried ushering her out. He was almost successful the fourth time, only for her to change her mind and turn back around.

"Take good care of him, won't you?" she said.

It was directed over my head to Ash, who did a showy little bow and promised, "It would be an honour, ma'am. "

"I like him." She giggled, nudging me with her elbow before descending the stairs.

I side-eyed the smirking demon I'd accidentally summoned all those weeks ago. The one who, in his own way, had made me feel more deserving of happiness than anyone ever had. Who'd gone from being the last person in the world I'd ever imagined myself sharing space with, to the only person to give me everything I hadn't even known I needed.

My heart did an involuntary little skip.

Yeah, I liked him, too.