Page 2

Miri

“ W akey wakey!”

A foot poked Miri gently in the side. Curling away with a grumble, she burritoed herself deeper into the mountain of blankets. If they couldn’t reach her, they couldn’t make her get up.

“It’s time for breakfast, ladies!”

The cursed foot wiggled under the mass of bedding and poked her again.

“Go away,” she yawned.

A masculine chuckle filled the quiet living room. Miri didn’t bother to open her eyes and see which of Nicole’s monsters had a death wish. It didn’t matter. Every last one of the fanged freaks was a morning person.

Well, technically the vampires weren’t “morning” people exactly, but they were certainly bright-eyed and bushy-tailed the second they popped out of bed every night.

“I guess I’ll wrap up your waffles for later…”

Waffles? Her sleepy brain struggled to catch up to the teasing words. She liked waffles.

Patting the floor beside her pillow, she searched for her glasses.

Rough fingers placed them gently in her wandering hand.

Miri jammed them onto her nose and squinted at the man looming over her.

Faint morning light gleamed off his silver hair.

Dirt stained the elegant fingers hooked through his belt loops, streaks of green striped his skin and muddled the sharp blue glyphs on his skin.

Of course, it was the elf. The universe was a dick. Why else would it send an effortlessly handsome fae to nudge her goblin self out of bed?

“Are they homemade waffles?”

The werewolf was one hell of a cook, but was it worth unwrapping herself and facing the dawn? Her jeans were already going to be tight after last night’s nacho extravaganza. The crazy wolf had candied his own jalapenos just for the occasion.

“Wes has been slaving over the waffle maker all morning.” A twinkle gleamed in his vibrant eyes. “He even whipped butter by hand to top them.”

Whipped butter? Miri groaned. Jeans were overrated anyway.

Hawthorne crouched down and lifted the blanket another inch.

“According to Wes, there were multiple honest-to-Gaia vanilla beans involved,” he whispered.

“I hate all of you.”

Shoving herself upright, Miri ignored his quiet laugh. She smoothed down her tangled cloud of curls and blinked at her yawning friends. So, the fae had gotten to them too.

“Let’s get a move on ladies!” Hawthorne said “The waffles are getting cold and the werewolf is getting cranky.”

“I liked you better when you were shy,” Ashely grumbled. Stumbling to her feet, she shot the elf a glare and breezed passed him into the kitchen.

No arguments there. Hawthorne used to blush and mumble every time he spoke to them, now he was disturbing their beauty sleep with glee. Clearly, Nicole had been a bad influence on the sweet fae.

Rolling out of her cocoon, Miri’s jaw cracked with a yawn. She glanced at the tangled mess of blankets on the floor. She’d had sweatpants at some point in the evening…?

Oh, well. It’s not like any of Nicole’s boyfriends would spare her thick thighs and booty shorts a second glance. They were one-woman monsters.

She tugged her baggy hoodie lower over her hips and followed the tantalizing scent of maple and warm vanilla into the kitchen.

Miri froze in the door. A small mountain of golden, perfectly fluffy waffles waited in the center of the kitchen table.

Platters piled high with scrambled eggs and crispy bacon rested on either side.

“How many waffles do you want, Miri?” Wes called from his position at the steaming waffle maker. “I’m doing a couple testers with dark chocolate swirls and strawberries if you’d rather wait for those.”

She had died and gone to breakfast heaven.

Opening her mouth to tell the werewolf to pile her plate tall enough to reach the moon, the words froze in her mouth.

She was supposed to have brunch with her mother today.

She really shouldn’t have much of anything or she was going to ruin her appetite…

not that the thought of a meal with her overly-critical mom gave her much of one anyway.

“Nothing for me, thanks?—“

“She’ll have two chocolate waffles, no strawberries. She’s having brunch with her mom later.” Nicole interrupted from her seat at the table. Her sharp eyes narrowed on Miri. “She’s going to be a hag— like always— and criticize you for eating so much as a grape. You might as well fill up now.”

“God, I despise that woman,” Ashley mumbled through a mouthful of waffle and whipped cream. “She was born miserable.”

Not really. Miri had some vague memories of her mom smiling…

very vague… in fact, they were so hazy they might just be remnants of wishful imaginings from her lonely childhood.

Surely, she must have been happy at one point.

Maybe before Miri’s dad had passed away?

He’d died when she was so young that Miri’s memories of him were fuzzier than the fluffy socks on her feet.

“Eat, Miri,” Nicole urged. “It’s better to face her on a full stomach.”

“Maybe you’ll get lucky and the old bat will win the lottery on the way there. Her shriveled heart might start beating again from the shock.”

“Ashley!” Nicole scolded.

Sighing, Miri dropped into an empty chair. They weren’t wrong. Not much made the great Elaine Brown happy… least of all her daughter.

She lifted an empty plate into the air and waved it at the apron-clad werewolf.

“Fill ‘er up, Wes. It’s gonna be a long morning.”

One hour. I can survive one hour .

Taking a deep breath, Miri yanked the door to the restaurant open. Her eyes flicked passed the hostess to the sea of crisp white linens and gleaming water glasses. Smiling faces, smiling faces… ah, there was the patented frown.

Miri wove her way through tables of happy, chattering diners toward her mother. Steeling herself for disapproval, she waved cheerfully. Sharp eyes drifted from her messy curls to her flats and back up. The frown deepened.

She hadn’t even said hello yet and already she had disappointed her mom. That had to be some kind of record. Did they give out medals for that kind of thing?

“Hi, Mom!” Miri said brightly as she dropped into the open seat at the table.

“Hello, dear,” Elaine Brown sniffed. “I see we’ve given up entirely on making an effort on our appearance.”

Miri glanced down at her outfit. Apparently, leggings and a knitted cardigan had become a fashion no-no in the last fraction of a second. Who knew?

“It’s brunch, Mom. Not the Academy Awards.”

“How will you ever find a husband with an attitude like that?”

Could her sigh sound any more weary? Gritting her teeth, Miri swiped her menu off the table and raised it to her face to hide her rolling eyes.

Her darling mother was in fine form this morning. Usually, they at least got through a mimosa or two before the barrage of criticism began. She eyed the empty champagne glass in front of her mom. Then again, maybe Elaine had gotten a head start.

Ten…nine…eight…

Miri counted all the way down to zero before she put her menu down. “So, how’s everything going?”

“Same as always. The board is fussing about parking spaces again. You would not believe the tantrum Francine Lavelle threw over?—”

Zoning out as her mom gossiped about her so-called friends, Miri contemplated her life choices— specifically the ones that had led her to this moment, suffering through a detailed critique of poor Mrs. Lavelle’s cashmere sweater dress.

Was this karma for spilling her juice on her grade school bestie’s sparkly pencil pouch?

She had said she was sorry, but their friendship had never quite been the same after that.

A waiter in a stiffly starched blazer appeared beside their table.

“Good morning, ladies?—“

“Finally!” Lifting her water glass, Elaine shoved it at the wide-eyed waitstaff. “Bring me a new water. No ice this time. And another mimosa, but go lighter on the orange juice. Ask someone for help if you don’t know how to do it properly, young man.”

Miri shot the poor guy a silent apology. She was definitely going to have to slide him an extra tip before she left the restaurant.

“Um… c-can I take your order?”

“Grapefruit, no sugar. And a hard-boiled egg.”

He fumbled as her mother tossed her menu at him. Gritting her teeth, Miri swallowed a sigh. It was going to have to be a big tip, a very big tip.

She had no idea why her mom had woken up on the bitchy side of her expensive memory foam bed, but clearly, she was going to make all of them suffer along with her.

“The peach yogurt parfait and wheat toast for me, please.”

The waiter vanished as quickly as he had appeared—no doubt to cry in the walk-in freezer.

“I see we’re not counting calories anymore,” her mom said stiffly, sharp eyes inspecting her fork for faults.

“I’m pretty sure the bottomless mimosas you’re knocking back have more calories than a piece of toast, Mother.”

Elaine put her fork down and folded her elegant hands in her lap. Miri squirmed under her long-suffering grimace.

“How are you ever going to find a husband if you’re eating that many carbs, Miriam?”

“The same way everyone else does, probably.” With a great ass and a lot of poor tequila-fueled choices.

“I want grandchildren before I’m too old to pass on my wisdom!”

Miri choked on a sip of water. What wisdom? How to belittle waitstaff and efficiently destroy a loved one’s self esteem in ten words or less?

“You’re not getting any younger, Miriam. Or slimmer for that matter.”

Her jaw ached from gritting her teeth. It wasn’t her fault her waif of a mother had had a child with a man who had been head and shoulders taller than her and was broader than a linebacker. What had she expected? Tinkerbell for a daughter?

She looked her mother over. Even in her mid-fifties, Elaine was stunning. Her smooth blond hair was turning an elegant shade of silver and the faint wrinkles in the corners of her eyes were barely a whisper of her age. Every flick of her manicured hands seemed graceful and effortless.

Naturally, Miri looked nothing like her.

She had her late father’s copper curls that were always on the wrong side of frizzy no matter how much product she worked through them. They had the same round face and sturdy build. Even her good-natured laugh was a replica of her dad’s.

The only thing she had gotten from her mom was a strawberry allergy and an eating disorder in her teens.

“I ran into Louise last week. She said Jason bought a new car.” She looked at Miri meaningfully. “You really should give him another chance, dear. You two were such a good match.”

Miri snorted. “A good match? We went on one date and he told me I needed to lose twenty pounds and get highlights before he would be seen with me in public again.”

Not only that, but she had found out their mothers were good friends and had set the whole thing up behind her back. She had kicked Jason and his “suggestions” to the curb the very next day.

The arrogant pissant could choke on his opinion for all she cared. Her figure was gorgeous, thank you very much. Sure, her thighs jiggled and her ass had stretch marks, but she was strong and filled out yoga leggings like nobody’s business.

Elaine waved away her comment. “He could really help you level up. You don’t need to be a teacher. With mine and Louise’s support, we would have no problem getting you on the academy board.”

“I like my job,” she muttered to herself.

“What man is going to want you on a teacher’s salary? At this rate, you’re going to die alone… and worst of all, I’ll be the only one of my friends without grandchildren!”

Their water appeared with their order, sliding plates into place on the crisp tablecloth. And not a moment too soon. Miri swallowed her cutting response and dug a spoon into her yogurt.

Her stomach was turning in circles as she digested her mother’s criticism. She eyed the aging debutante berating the waiter for the water spots on her fork. Anger itched under her skin.

Who was she to criticize Miri’s life? She had a good job, great friends, and baked like an angel. Why did she need to rearrange her life to lure in some loser who would expect her to clean up after him and be his second mommy?

Fuck. No.

Miri raised her knife and slathered more butter on her toast in defiance.

“Now, Miriam, don’t you think that’s enough?—“

No, no she did not. It was fucking toast.

Ignoring the litany of criticisms her mom was spouting between sips of mimosa, Miri slid her phone out of her pocket and balanced it on her leg. Bursting with petty glee, she downloaded a dating app.

MONSTR’s fanged heart logo glowed on the screen. Her dear mother wanted her to find a boyfriend, so she would. It was her own fault for not specifying that he should be human.

Miri smiled to herself. It was time to give Elaine Brown something new to complain about.