She glances away, and I know I’ve driven my point home. “There are things stirring in the supernatural community. We’ve had peace so long, we’ve forgotten what war is like. I plan on making sure we’re on the winning side, aligned, and protected.”
Mémé nods her approval. “The universe gives us what we need, even if we can’t see it for what it is when it first occurs. The climate is changing. We must adapt to survive. If war breaks out, alone is a precarious place to find ourselves.”
“You know more than you’re saying,” my mother says.
“I have a feeling. Nothing concrete. I sense a coming darkness that will threaten our family. We need to be hyper-vigilant and prepared.”
An uneasy truce seems to fall over the room as murmurs rise. A family will always pull together to protect themselves from an outward threat. Too bad it won’t last. Not with Tante Odette on the warpath for something none of us can change. It’s a time bomb. Eventually, it’s going to explode.
***
I feel Cristobal the closer I get to my home. The thought of him waiting for me on the porch like a lovesick puppy would amuse me if I wasn’t so damn emotionally drained. A day of family bickering forced bonding, and mediation would sap anyone of their strength. He’s an image from a magazine lit by the golden peach tones of the sunset and surrounded by gifts.
The front steps leading up to the porch are covered in white pumpkins, hollowed out and filled with rich red dahlias, peonies, poppies, and greenery. The man must’ve bought out a small flower shop. It’s impossible to completely smoother the smile that creeps up on the corner of my lips. It’s a welcome vision after the day I’ve had.
I pull into the driveway, admiring the way the crisp white button-up drapes across his shoulders in contrast with the black slacks that hug him in all the right places.
The addition of black tennis shoes makes me giggle. My mo
od lifts. I always tried to steer him toward casual wear when it was just the two of us. I craved seeing the sides of him that no one else did. His attempt to fulfill my wish was with shoes. The collection was extensive when I left. I wonder if he continued the tradition. There’s no such thing as starting back at square one with him. The complexities of my life and relationships are like a maze. I step from the car with a wry smile.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, genuinely intrigued.
With a slight lift of his shoulder, he takes a step forward. “Is it not customary to bring gifts to one when they move into a new home?”
“You came out here because you wanted to give me housewarming gifts?” I frown.
“Among other things, yes.” He nods.
“That’s for friends. I don’t think we fit into the category.”
“I’m glad you agree that what we share far surpasses that moniker.” He adjusts the onyx cufflinks, and I laugh. Warm memories surge to the forefront. He always brought me blood red flowers. Red for the blood that flowed through my veins and sustained his life. Red for the passion that flowed between us. Red for the eternal love he swore to me. The damn in my mind strains under the effort of holding back my emotions. I can’t afford to waver. Not when he’s here looking good enough to eat with all of my favorite things.
Reaching up, I subconsciously tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. Damn feminine emotions. “You’re right. It’s even more inappropriate for ex-lovers.”
“Lovers on hiatus,” he counters smoothly as he pushes away from my porch railing.
Irritation plucks at the strings of my frayed nerves. “You’ve always had such a way with words, haven’t you?”
“Perhaps,” he speaks slowly enunciating every syllable like he’s tasting each word. “It’s simply a matter of speaking the truth. We’re working our way through a misunderstanding.” He climbs down another step.
“Betrayal. This isn’t a tomato, tamoto issue.” I refuse to let him lessen what happened with clever terminology. I cross my arms over my chest.
“No, but it is a difference of opinion and perspective. All we need is time.”
I roll my eyes. “Overconfidence is never attractive.”
“We both know it’s a matter of when not if when it comes to us, Louella.” His voice drops an octave.
“I can’t do this with you right now, Cristobal. I’ve had enough games for one day.”
He’s by my side instantly. “What happened?” His eyes flash amber.
I place a hand on his shoulder, stilling his simmering rage. “Family drama.”
“Let me take your mind off things for a time.”
“I’m not in the mood to pretend everything is okay. That’ll come soon enough.” My shoulders slump. A large butterfly swoops in capturing my attention. With black tipped wings it fades from a navy blue to a lighter cerulean toward it’s body. Two of its friend’s swoop in, sailing close to my body. They’re a sign of change. The wheels of fate are already turning. Stopping it is impossible.