The next day, the opera company called to let me know I hadn’t made it into the second round of auditions. I padded naked down to the wine cellar, picked out the most expensive bottle I could find, and sat in a steaming bath with it unopened beside me.
Nearby, Mozart slept in the sink, his paws in the air. He’d grown to almost fifteen pounds of bones and fur and enormous, owl-like eyes. He was my shadow, my little guardian that stalked my heels through the halls of the Calo House. I swallowed and put the bottle under the sink. Mozart hated it when I got drunk.
Instead, I washed with my favorite soap and put on one of Peregrine’s soft sweaters, leggings, and my slippers. Then I went down to the kitchen and turned on the radio and made some lemon scones.
I was boiling tea when I heard a step in the doorway. I looked up, turning the radio down, and my eyes fell on my husband. He wore a wool suit, the jacket slung over his arm, and there was a soft expression on his face.
“Are you alright?” he asked.
“I am,” I said. “I didn’t get in.”
He laid aside his jacket and circled the counter and took me in his arms. I swallowed and a lump rose in my throat. His arms were so warm and strong and he smelled so familiar. My chest ached, but this time with something good. In the last three years, he’d become my rock. And I knew I’d become that for him too because he’d let his fears and doubt fall from him slowly. With the arrival of a few gray hairs around his ears, he’d taken on an inner calm that stabilized everything in his orbit.
“What would you like to do now?” he said softly.
“Can we finally take a honeymoon?”
He bent and kissed me and I smiled, tasting the coffee on his mouth. He must have stopped at the café on the way home.
“Of course we can. Where to?”
I considered it.
“Italy. France. Anywhere that we can see all the great works of art. I’ve never had a chance to see all the artists who inspired you so much.”
“Done,” he said. “Let me check my schedule with Lucien tomorrow and have my assistant work with you to set everything up. You get to choose where we go, alright?”
“Perfect,” I said, kissing him again. “Did you bring me a cappuccino?”
“It’s on the table in the hall.”
The front door banged open and we both jumped. I heard heavy footfalls and Aloysius appeared in the doorway. He was almost twelve now and he lived with us every weekend. During the week he attended a prestigious private school that he liked complaining about daily.
“Scones,” he said, dropping his bag on the floor. “Can I have one?”
He ate more than any person I’d ever met. Peregrine pretended to punch him in the side and they started wrestling against the counter. I rolled my eyes and piled scones on a plate and poured his usual tankard of milk.
“Here you go,” I said. “Stop doing that in my kitchen.”
Aloysius popped his head out from under Peregrine’s arm and his eyes lit up. Without a word, he wriggled out and gathered his food and disappeared upstairs to his room.
“Ungrateful,” Peregrine said.
“He’s almost a teenager,” I said. “I’d rather he be eating us out of house and home than complaining about his friends at school again.”
“What about his friends at his school?” Peregrine asked. “Is he being bullied or something?”
I retrieved my cappuccino. “No, it’s just the usual middle school politics. Nothing groundbreaking.”
“I should probably talk to him,” Peregrine said, sighing. “Oh, by the way, Lucien and Olivia invited us to dinner tonight at their house. I’ll order pizza for Aloysius if you’re feeling up to going.”
I considered it and decided it would probably be a positive thing to get out of the house. Maybe having a chance to dress up would do me good.
It did help me to be out and among friends. That night, during dinner, Lucien and Olivia’s son woke up and began crying at the top of the stairs. Olivia pushed back her chair and headed toward the door, and, to my surprise, Peregrine rose and followed her out. Lucien leaned back and crossed his legs and his uncomfortably cold eyes fixed on me.
“If you don’t give that man a baby soon, he’s going to explode,” he said.
I stared at him, thrown off.