Page 142 of A Summoned Husband

I laughed. “No. She’s not.”

“And he’s been one hell of a babysitter.” Imani grinned. “The quiet he brings to my house.” She let out a long sigh. “It’s bliss.”

Alicia cut her a look. “I heard you pushed them all out into the yard and locked the door last week.”

“I will neither confirm nor deny that allegation.”

Sarika sucked her teeth. “Girl, we know you did it.”

I laughed again. “Regardless of how Imani abused my husband’s babysitting services, I’m so thankful for you guys. I can’t promise our lives from here will be normal, but it means so much to me knowing you’re all still here.”

“Where do you think we’d go?” Alicia walked over, carefully wrapping her arms around my shoulder and pulling me in. “Do you really think at this point Imani and Olivia could make new friends?”

“Hey!” Olivia ran over, sandwiching me on the other side.

“That is rude as hell but also very true.” Imani shot Alicia a look sharp enough to kill before she rolled her eyes and wrapped her arms around Alicia, wiggling her fingers so Olivia would adjust her hold to accommodate all three of us.

“I’m trying to see what having a demon lover is all about and you’re the only one with the hookup,” Sarika looked past the group to the back door where Asmodeus and Arzen chuckled. “I mean… y’all saw what he was working with. Imagine! His sister may not have the equipment but she can throw it down. I can tell.”

“Sarika!” Olivia swatted the air between them. “Stop! I can’t with you.”

“That’s okay. I don’t want you to.” Sarika winked.

The door opened and Arzen herself poked her head in. “Is it normal for us to just be standing around out here? What is taking so long? I’m bored.”

Alicia winked at Sarika. “Did you hear that? She’s bored.”

I shook my head at them. “Well, you’re going to have to wait until after my wedding to get up to whatever I know you’re going to get up to.”

Arzen pointed a finger to her chest. “Me?”

“Probably.” I grinned, wiggling to free myself from the girls. “Alright. Let’s get this show on the road.”

They gave me one last squeeze before they released me and hurried over to the door. They lined up, like this was something we rehearsed even though it was all thrown together very last minute. I agreed to the ceremony while Gran and Abuela were playing the pity card about missing their only granddaughter’s wedding over dinner a few nights ago. It was late, I was full, and the top button of my jeans was already undone. There was really no winning at that point. A quick shopping trip with the girls, another trip to the florist, the liquor store, and a night of Gran and Abuela in the kitchen, and here we were.

A mere month after I’d summoned my demon husband.

Apparently, that was really all we needed for a wedding.

Who knew?

It was nowhere near the grand affair of Imani’s wedding, or even Olivia’s but this suited me. It had all the things I needed. My girls, my grandmothers and my demon.

“You ready?” Sarika asked me, the last one of my girls still inside.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

* * *

The ceremony was quick and officiated by Sarika. The girls had argued about who would get to do it, and she seemed like the best choice when we stepped back and realized Olivia would likely be in tears, Imani would rant about whether she fully believed this was right, and Alicia was happy to surrender the job to whoever wanted it.

It went off smoothly, considering the attendees.

Asmodeus understood the binds of marriage well enough not to send Abuela and Gran into an uproar dissecting the ritual, and they were happy enough that I was getting married to not question where my husband came from. Sarika and Arzen made eyes at one another all the way through, and I was hard-pressed to admit I wanted them to give things a go. Arzen seemed like a woman who would take control when Sarika hesitated. When her confidence, though loud on the outside, became momentarily quiet when facing other people’s judgement.

“You know, I think your Abuela would be quite successful at torture. She offers her foods with a smile but stuffs you until you can’t breathe. It’s a confusing kind of torture.” Asmodeus strutted into the living room with his dress shirt unbuttoned. The taut stretch of his dark skin was on display as his bare feet plodded along the hardwood. His hand rubbed slow circles over his stomach.

I laughed. “You’re not wrong. I’ve been fed against my will more times than I can count and I’m sure I will be plenty more.”