The Flame Game (Magical Romantic Comedies #12) - R.J. Blain Page 0,59

tragedy,” he agreed with a grin. “Not only did you ruin their plans, you thoroughly crushed them beneath your hooves while you were high on napalm.”

“That hangover was so bad, Quinn. So bad. Is that orange drink you gave me magic?”

“Only in part. Once I realized you were as interested in me as I was in you, I helped make you forget all about the hangover while the medication did its work. I rather heavily influenced you.”

“Oh, look. More tragedy. I got influenced by my gorgon-incubus doohickey. Not only are you the best husband, you are the best hangover cure.” As he insisted on holding his bacon up where I could snatch it out of his hand with my teeth, I did so. Once out of his hold, I went to work making it disappear into my stomach where it belonged. “Meat-eating unicorns require a lot of bacon in the mornings.”

“I have noticed we go through a pound of bacon a day in the morning for some reason. I think my favorite time was when you went downstairs one night while a unicorn to steal a package of bacon. You cooked it on the porch by snorting on it.”

“Desperate times, desperate measures. My bacon provider was sleeping on the job.”

“It was three in the morning. Why did you change into a unicorn then, anyway?”

“I got itchy.”

“Itchy?”

“Yeah. Itchy. Transforming stops the itch. It takes a few weeks without transforming for the itch to start up. I got itchy, and after I popped a pill, I got hungry, so I stole some bacon and helped myself.” I giggled at the memory. We hadn’t been married all that long, and I’d still felt like an intruder in our home. “I’ve gotten better. I check to see if you’re actually asleep before raiding the fridge now.”

“You don’t have to check if I’m awake if you want a snack, Bailey.”

“But if you’re awake, you’re part of my snack.” Well aware my remark would rile my husband up and make him hungry for more than breakfast, I took my laptop and sat on the bed so he could finish eating without falling prey to me and my wicked ways. “Once we’re back, you’ll have to suggest that someone go through Audrey’s financials from after her marriage with you, up until her death. That might help us pin down her involvement with 120 Wall Street. Also, I really hope they don’t build another concrete cake. That building always pissed me off. It’s not edible.”

“You thought of 120 Wall Street as a concrete cake?”

“It’s the tiered top. It reminded me of a damned wedding cake each and every time I saw it. Then I’d get hungry, and that’d piss me off even more because I could barely afford to make ends meet, and there was no room in my budget for cake.”

“I see I’m going to have to learn how to bake cakes for you.”

Some women wanted roses and diamonds. I got the roses, but instead of the diamonds, I’d gotten a man willing to learn how to do new things for my sake.

No one had told me love could hurt so much as a child.

Then again, love had never been a part of my childhood. Coming to terms with that helped almost as much as my husband’s willingness to be patient with me while I figured out how to navigate a world where people actually wanted me in it. I still embarrassed myself when I became emotional, but I got a little better every day about not running away and learning to face my new circumstances.

“Do you think my father would mind bringing Sunny, Blizzard, and Avalanche?”

“He seems like the type to enjoy flouting the rules as much as he can, as he views the world as his, so I don’t see why not. You can also ask for advice about our kids if you want. He’s been around long enough he can probably help on that front, too.”

“But he’s probably with my mother right now.”

Quinn checked the time, and then he shook his head. “The moon set about twenty minutes ago.”

My poor parents. “Tonight, don’t let me go to sleep without calling my mother.”

“I called her on your behalf, so don’t worry. She seemed happy. You’ll get a chance to talk with her tonight. You needed the rest yesterday, and you were stressed enough after the incident with the assholes.”

“Think we should tell my father?”

“I’m sure he already knows, so confessing would show him you trust

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