Page 17 of Incurably Cupid (Moonhaven Cove #5)

Chapter 17

Indie

“Love is compassionate.”

Cupid Inc. New Recruit Training Manual

I woke up reluctantly the next morning and lingered in bed, not really wanting to face the day.

Tonight was the Phoenix’s singles night event.

I’d wrestled with my thoughts well into the morning, and only in the last few hours had I managed to get any sleep.

The new recruit tenets for the cupid manual kept going through my mind. Love was supposed to be patient, kind, and unselfish... After thinking about that all night, I’d come to the conclusion that if I was really falling for Mesmer—which I was—I had to be unselfish. I had to give him the opportunity to have what I couldn’t give him.

I was not one of Mesmer’s soulmates, but someone in this town was, and I just had to hope that she showed up tonight to give Mesmer the chance to meet her.

If it went like every other soulmate meeting, there would be an instant connection between them, a pull neither of them could deny, and a strong desire to get to know each other better.

Love didn’t force someone.

As I got ready, I kept repeating the manual in my mind like a mantra, willing myself to find the strength to get through tonight.

I was fairly certain now—I was falling in love with Mesmer. He wasn’t perfect, but he was perfect for me. He laughed at my acidity, saw through my barbs, appreciated my intelligence, and never once made me feel ridiculous for my pink hair and wings. I was a cupid—I could sense attraction, and I knew he was drawn to me. But what Mesmer was beginning to feel for me was much more complicated than attraction. It felt a lot like love.

Leo was humming while trying to hack into the Italian government’s files. Just an average morning for my sentient best friend.

“Cracked it yet?” I called from in front of the bathroom mirror, drying my hair and wings.

“Hmm? Oh, of course. I was in within moments. No, I’m building a search algorithm to sift through their files faster.”

I laughed, rolling my eyes. “Of course you are. Please don’t lead the Italian government back to my door.”

He scoffed. “As if they could catch me.”

Smiling, I shook my head, lathering on some mint-scented lotion before I flipped off the light. “If you weren’t good, you would be very, very bad.”

He chuckled.

Mesmer knocked at my door and I moved to answer it. He was dressed in the dark jeans and long-sleeve shirt we’d purchased for him, with a dark jacket over it and his sensible boots that I loved so much.

“You look nice,” I said, trying to keep my voice level. I was trying to be pleasant, but not irritatingly so. And I definitely didn’t want to endure more of his 'at least friends' conversations. I planned to keep all of our communication today well away from anything even hinting at relationships.

A cupid could only handle so much before she considered stabbing people.

“You do too.”

I looked down at my dark ripped jeans, red shirt with flutter sleeves, and black chucks.

“Thanks. ”Okay, moving on. “Are you ready for breakfast?”

He nodded, and I locked up, leaving Leo to his hacking.

Lance was waiting out in the hall. Mesmer carefully settled into the chair, and we were off.

“There are two restaurants in the main part of the hotel, but only one of them serves breakfast," I said.

He shrugged, seeming deep in thought. “Whatever sounds good to you. I need to eat more. My body's using a lot of energy trying to heal.”

Good point. Strangely, I hadn’t thought of that. Although I was one of the lucky ones that fae healing potions worked on, and he wasn’t, so...

“Are you paying today?” I clumsily tried to tease. Man, I was a mess.

He blinked at me, then chuckled. “I guess you haven’t checked your wallet recently."

I stopped walking. “What?” I squawked, glaring at him as I fished my wallet out. “What did you do?”

He managed to look innocent while I unzipped the pouch, only to find several crisp hundred-dollar bills. I gaped at them.

“When did you—how did you?—”

He shrugged. “I had some money on me. When I came to rescue you, I had an idea we might need some cash, so I had Lance take me to a bank before we got here.”

I zipped my wallet shut. “You didn’t have to pay me back,” I said.

He gave me a pointed look. “A gentleman doesn’t let a lady pay for his things.”

I arched an eyebrow. “I thought you were a gargoyle.”

His lips twitched. Shaking his head, he turned back around as we continued toward the restaurant.

At the restaurant, I decided to get an omelette again, like last night, but I chose a different kind, one stuffed with avocado, sausage, bacon, ham, and all kinds of veggies, mostly peppers and onions. I also got a huge side of hash browns and a chocolate milk.

Mesmer ordered two meals: huevos rancheros and an omelette like mine. We ate contentedly for a while, not speaking.

After breakfast, I was craving something sweet. Pixies were the true sugar fiends, but we cupids weren’t far behind. There was a reason people gifted chocolates on Valentine’s Day. I wasn’t saying some Cupids had used their invisible powers to coerce their assignments, but the booming chocolate industry spoke for itself.

I winced. Maybe booming a little too much, considering scientists believed cocoa plants might go extinct within the next twenty-five years.

“Do you want something sweet?” I asked Mesmer. “There’s a chocolatier shop a few doors down.”

Mesmer, busy polishing off his second meal, hesitated. “I don’t think I’ll have room for anything else after this.”

Understandable. “I’ll just run over while you finish.”

Mesmer paused. “Now?”

“Yeah, I’ll be quick.”

His fork stilled. “Indie.”

I stilled, too. “Yes?”

His gray eyes met mine, steady, unwavering. “Please let me come with you.”

Something in his tone softened my resistance. I sighed, slumping back. “Fine. I’ll wait.”

He chuckled, wiped his mouth, and stood, helping me up before settling back into Lance’s seat.

After getting our delicious chocolate and wandering toward the river running through town, we tried to decide what to do with the time before the singles event.

Both of us were carefully avoiding talking about it.

“We could take a boat ride across the lake?”

He pursed his lips. “It sounds good, but I wanted to conserve my energy for tonight and for traveling to Devotion tomorrow.”

I took a bite of my chocolate, already addicted to them. This one had a sweet and tangy lemon center that made my mouth zing.

“Okay," I said, licking a bit of chocolate from my thumb. "Want to do some painting?”

He raised an eyebrow. “That sounds... fun?”

I laughed and led him down the street to a place I’d scoped out on my first day—Budding Artist Ceramics.

I opened the door so Lance and Mesmer could roll in. The scent of paint and wet clay was very strong, but not unbearably so. Mesmer found a quiet corner to stow Lance and then settled at an empty table that had all kinds of paint supplies on it. When the owner came over, Mesmer handed her his credit card before I’d even had a chance to grab for my wallet.

She smiled and took it. “You’ll need to grab something you want to paint first, then I’ll ring you up.”

Mesmer creaked to his feet, and we wandered the room, perusing our pottery choices. There were all kinds of things: mugs, animals, trademarked items, mythical creatures... There were so many that it was hard to choose, but eventually, Mesmer chose a mug, and I chose a dragon that was probably well beyond my painting skill level.

As he paid, I hesitated, eyeing the dragon in my hands. Maybe I should swap it for something easier. I didn’t want it to turn out looking awful.

Mesmer sat again after retrieving his card. “Rethinking your choice?” he murmured.

I bit my lip, then shook my head. “No, I’ll just give it my best.”

He nodded and started to choose colors for his palette, while I did the same.

I ended up going with a metallic dark purple and a metallic emerald green. I had a plan for what I wanted him to look like, and I would just do my best to make it happen.

Mesmer was choosing happy colors: pink, soft blues, lilac purple, and a very soft orange that looked like something you’d see on a sunset.

I eyed them curiously. “What are you making?” His mug was undecorated, so he was completely choosing his own design.

He shrugged, looking a little embarrassed. “I wanted to paint Devotion’s skies.”

I froze, my brush hovering midair.

“Really?”

His dark lashes lifted as he met my gaze. “Really.”

Oh.

My brush wobbled as I dipped it into the paint. “That’s... going to look really nice.” I cleared my throat. “A nice memento for you.”

His gaze lingered on me, unreadable. "Do you think so?"

I swallowed and nodded.

“Hmmm.”

Not sure what that meant, I changed the subject.

“I think Leo is closing in on your subject.”

Mesmer smiled slightly as he swirled color across the white mug. “I’d hoped he would. He’s having to do a little white-hat hacking, though, which I feel bad about.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Not bad enough, apparently. If the Italian government shows up at my door, I'm sending them straight to you."

He grinned. “Leo assured me he can't be traced.”

I grumbled under my breath, though he was probably right. Besides, was there anything Mesmer wouldn’t do for the king and consort? Probably not. Well, maybe a few things—but his devotion seemed fairly unwavering.

My brush stilled.

If we got together, where would we live? Mesmer would never leave King Draven and Consort Mia, and my life was in Devotion. My family was there; my work was there.

I scrunched my brow, feeling a throbbing headache begin. I guess... I would have to move. I couldn’t imagine living on the villa property. Living so close to the lovey-dovey king and his consort, living away from my cupid home.

I’d never lived anywhere else. It was all I knew.

I painted the rest of my dragon in silence, giving him purple eyes. The proprietress came by to take him to a back room to dry, and then to be placed in the kiln to gloss and harden. She would ship the ceramics to me when they were finished.

Mesmer had finished well before me, waiting patiently as I wrapped up. He and Lance were murmuring quietly to each other, and I smiled, shaking my head.

He’d come a long way, from awkwardly refusing to sit on a sentient wheelchair, to being able to talk with him like they were old friends.