Reign of Night (Thorne Hill #7) - Emily Goodwin Page 0,80
is needed. I didn’t sleep well last night, and I’m mentally exhausted, though I haven’t been up for long. I’ve put off ordering anything for the baby, but I feel like maybe it’s time now. If she’s made it this far and everything looks good, it gives me hope she’ll continue to grow and I’ll be able to carry her to term.
And then Lucas and I will have our daughter in our arms.
Scarlet comes in, paws wet and muddy, and it takes me a good five minutes to get all the mud off her wiry fur. The wind did bring in warmer weather, but it’s the kind of blustery day that will sweep you right off your feet if you’re not careful. It’s only the end of January here in the Midwest, too. This rare forty-degree day is just a slight reprieve from the bitter cold it was only days ago, though you could also argue it’s a tease. The temps will drop again, staying that way until April, though we’ve gotten snow in May before, too.
I really should have taken up that offer to spend the winter in California.
“I don’t like this recipe,” I tell Lucas as he pulls one up on the iPad. “Whoever wrote this must have a very weak sense of taste or something because that is a lot of pepper. It’s the one you used last time?”
“Yes.” He looks from the recipe to me and back again. “I don’t know if I’ll ever become familiar with what is a normal amount of an ingredient.”
I smile, finding it so damn adorable that he tries to cook for me like this. Since I feed him, he says it’s only fair that he feeds me. “And I don’t really know how to explain it. Though you’ve never tried to feed me a scented candle, so that’s something.”
Lucas starts browning the sausage meat, and I get a can of biscuits from the fridge. I peel it, grab a spoon, and turn away when I press it into the seam. I don’t know why I jump every time the damn can opens, but I do. I put the biscuits in the oven and get out a glass bottle of maple syrup.
“It adds a really good flavor if you season the meat with this,” I tell Lucas as I unscrew the cap. He takes the bottle from me, determined to make most of the food on his own. I plug in my coffee pot, wishing I could have more than one measly half-cup of caffeinated coffee this morning.
“Eliza is calling,” he says, able to hear his phone ringing from upstairs.
“I’ll go get it,” I tell him, standing on my toes to plant a kiss on his lips. “Keep cooking. It’s sexy.”
Going up the back stairs, I get his phone from the dresser. I missed the call by then and don’t call Eliza back until I’m in the kitchen again. Putting the call on speaker, I hold it up in between Lucas and me.
“I was just rudely awoken,” Eliza spits. So much for a hello.
“Uh, you called us,” I say.
“That’s not what I mean.”
“What do you mean?” Lucas asks, stirring the meat around the pan.
“Someone knocked on the door, rather insistently,” she goes on.
“It’s daylight,” I say, looking out the window.
“I know,” she continues. “Luckily, my dessert stayed the night and was able to answer the door. I got a fucking letter.”
“And the issue is you don’t have a pen pal?” I try, looking at Lucas and shrugging. He’s not following, either, and looks annoyed with Eliza’s typical drama.
“Of course I don’t have a fucking pen pal. The letter is for Lucas, and it’s from the VC.”
Chapter 24
“The VC?” I echo. “Do they usually send letters?”
“No,” Lucas says, turning the burner down. “What did the letter say? And cut to the chase.”
“Basically, you didn’t fill out a change of address form, they know you moved, and they fucking know you got married and are requesting you show up to a meeting tonight to give them more information about your wife.”
My blood goes cold. There’s no way they know he married a witch. I look at Lucas. “We got married legally, though. It was on file.”
“It is on file. I filled out the necessary paperwork, for both the marriage certificate and for purchasing this house. I still own the house in Lincoln Park, and there is no way anyone would know that’s not my primary place of residence unless—”