Page 9 of Incurably Cupid (Moonhaven Cove #5)

Chapter 9

Mesmer

“Love requires honesty.”

Cupid Inc. New Recruit Training Manual

A s we took our seats, Lance guided me to the end of the table where there wasn’t a chair, and I took a moment to appreciate my surroundings. This place was enormous. Above us, a vast glass dome stretched overhead, allowing the soft pinks and purples of Devotion to filter through, while floor-to-ceiling glass walls surrounded the restaurant, making the space feel open and airy. Some of the glass doubled as smart screens, where students and faculty discreetly watched their favorite shows through earpieces, but most of it served no purpose beyond sheer beauty. The dome and walls reflected Devotion’s ethereal pink and purple skies, with puffy clouds drifting across, casting a soft glow. Though it was midday outside—and inside—the brightness had been expertly dimmed to create a romantic ambiance.

I’d noticed this kind of thoughtful design all over Devotion. The cupids had an innate understanding of romance—not just in theory, but in practice. They knew what love looked like, how it felt, and how to weave it seamlessly into everyday life. It wasn’t just in the way people treated each other, but in the very structure of their cities, the layout of their communities, and the atmosphere they created. It made perfect sense to me why so many paranormals chose this place for their honeymoons. Beyond the beauty and ambiance, you’d probably receive a relationship evaluation and a wealth of expert advice while you were here. And honestly? That advice was probably worth listening to. After all, no one knew love better than the cupids.

“It’s something, huh?” Indie said, dragging a potato wedge through some fry sauce before popping it into her mouth.

I shook my head in wonder. “What’s the success rate of your marriages?”

Mordecai, slurping on a chocolate shake, visibly winced at my question.

“Sorry,” I said. "I can't help but wonder."

“It’s fine,” he replied, though his voice was tight. “We’re at an eighty-nine percent success rate as of late last year.”

“Eighty-nine point five,” Indie corrected as the waiter arrived with our main entrees.

“That’s encouraging. I think paranormals sit around seventy-eight percent, and that includes those with soulmates.”

Indie placed a napkin on her lap and dug into her sub, potato salad, and chips while I did the same with my roast beef sandwich. Mordecai’s order was taking longer—he’d gone for chicken and vegetable curry. He eyed our plates morosely, and Indie, likely feeling sorry for him, pushed her appetizer toward him.

“Speaking of soulmates,” Indie said after swallowing a massive bite, “yours is someone you can only sense when you swap spit?”

Mordecai made a disgusted expression and dropped the potato wedge he’d just grabbed. He touched his stomach as though suddenly queasy. “Indie, really? While we’re eating?”

She frowned. “Why are you so touchy about this?”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Is this proper mealtime conversation?”

Indie paused, considering as she chewed. “Yes.”

I chuckled. These two were all elbows and playful jabs, their rapport so natural that it was hard to believe they’d only been friends for a few weeks. They acted like they’d known each other forever.

“The correct answer is no,” Mordecai said firmly.

She tilted her head. “You do realize that when you have sex with someone, you’re swapping more than spit, right?”

“Indie,” Mordecai groaned, glaring at her.

“Yes?” she asked, grinning wickedly.

“Stop talking.”

“I decline.”

Mordecai thumped his forehead against the table with a dramatic groan. “Why did I think befriending you was a good idea?”

“I did warn you,” Indie said, then took another massive bite of her sandwich.

He sighed. “You did. I just didn’t imagine how uncouth you’d be.”

She pointed a finger at her chest. “I’m uncouth? Me? What about you, Mr. Lothario?”

Mordecai slapped a hand over her mouth, his eyes darting around in panic. “Indie,” he hissed. “That was private information.”

Without hesitation, Indie licked his palm.

I choked on my sandwich.

Mordecai yanked his hand away, holding it in the air like it had been contaminated by some deadly toxin. “I cannot believe you licked me!” he growled loudly. “Now I have to go wash my hand!”

Indie thumped an undamaged spot on my back as I struggled to clear my airway, and every table around us turned to stare.

Mordecai, looking thoroughly unimpressed with the attention, pulled his shoulders in and stormed toward the bathrooms, his nose in the air.

Indie cackled as I took a sip of my strawberry shake. “You’re like an evil savant. The way you can get under his skin is nothing short of masterful.”

She bowed in her seat and resumed eating. “So, it’s true, then?”

“That I have to kiss someone to know if they’re my soulmate?”

“Yes.”

I layered some chips into my sandwich for added crunch and took a bite before answering. “Yes, but there are other ways.”

Indie frowned. “Can we just, you know, focus on the saliva aspect?”

“Indie,” I said patiently.

“Hmm?”

“I’m a virgin. I’ve never even kissed anyone.”

She dropped her sandwich. It splattered all over her lap. She stared down at it in despair, then sighed and started scooping the mess back onto her plate.

When she was done, she leaned in. “Are you kidding me?”

“I would not joke about this.”

She ordered another sandwich, then waited until the waiter left before speaking again. “So, you’ve been... saving yourself for your soulmate?”

I nodded. “Most paranormals who have potential soulmates do. It’s my honor to wait for her.”

Indie blinked, as if I’d spoken another language. “Are you absolutely sure you’re from this century?”

I scoffed. “I know hundreds of paranormals who are waiting.”

“And I know thousands who aren’t.”

I waved her comment away. “That’s their choice. This is mine.” I studied her curiously. “Are you waiting?”

She shrugged, finishing her potato salad and chips while she waited for her new sandwich to be made. “It’s different for cupids. Most of us don’t get soulmates unless our future spouse is a type of paranormal who has one.”

I frowned, crunching on a salt and vinegar chip. “That seems arbitrary.”

She shook her head, her soft pink hair skimming her chin and cheeks. “It’s fair. We don’t naturally have them. So, no, I’m not waiting. I’ve been on some dates. I've had some failed relationships.”

Mordecai returned just in time to hear her last sentence and scoffed. “Who would date you?”

“Mordecai,” I growled warningly.

He winced at Indie’s suddenly subdued expression. Reaching across the table, he took her hand gently. “I’m sorry. You’re beautiful and wonderful. Any male with a pulse would be lucky to date you.”

She squeezed his hand once, clearly forgiving him, then let go. “So, back to the spit.”

Mordecai sighed, put on noise-canceling earbuds, and finished his meal in peace while Indie and I chatted quietly about finding my soulmate.

On the walk back to Indie’s house, we stopped at a grocery store. Now that my appetite had made a reappearance with a vengeance, Indie was grumbling that she couldn’t afford to feed me. Naturally, I offered to pay for my food—I wasn’t expecting her to cover my expenses—but she adamantly refused.

Mordecai had taken off right after lunch. He’d given Indie a quick, squeezing hug, to which she’d responded with a string of colorful curses. He’d just laughed, nodded at me, and disappeared.

I wasn’t entirely sure what to make of Mordecai.

Most of the time, he acted like a scheming, mischievous teen, but then he’d turn around and say something shockingly profound. His usual expression was bright and friendly, but I’d seen it shift—just for an instant—into something hollow and dark. He was incredibly intelligent yet strangely naive, worldly in some ways but completely oblivious in others.

But one thing was clear: he cared about Indie.

Lunch had proven that. The moment he realized he’d genuinely hurt her with his thoughtless words, his remorse had been immediate and sincere.

As we rolled down the aisles of the grocery store—me relaxing while Lance did all the work, Indie pushing the cart—I found myself growing curious about her life.

“Do you have any family still living?” I asked. I wasn’t sure how old she was. She looked young, but cupids had the same ageless quality as vampires.

Indie was adding blush-colored oranges to a sack. “I do. Mum and Dad live in another city in Steadfast. Mum’s a schoolteacher like me, but she teaches the younger grades. Dad’s an engineer—he works with the fae.”

The smooth ride in the wheelchair was nice, but exhaustion was creeping in. I leaned back, trying to ease the discomfort in my body.

“Do you get to see them often?”

Indie, now poking avocados to check for ripeness, barely looked up. “Do steak burrito bowls sound good?”

I nodded. “They sound delicious. And thank you for all of this.”

She snorted. “As much as I complain?—”

She didn’t complain at all.

“—I really don’t mind.” She shrugged, looking slightly uncomfortable. “It’s been… nice having someone around. Anyway, yeah, I see them once a month or so. They usually come here because Mum likes to shop in Devotion.” A small smile tugged at her lips. “It’s like the Paris of Earth—or any big city, really. So many amazing shops. Mum goes a little crazy.”

“I can’t really see you shopping like that with her,” I said, wincing as I adjusted my position. When had I last taken a pain reliever? I knew guys had a reputation for ignoring medicine, but I wouldn’t mind some right about now.

Indie made a face. “I definitely shop.”

I tilted my head. “Online, huh?”

She sighed as she bagged peaches. “I don’t know how anyone enjoys shopping for clothes in person. It’s an exercise in torture.”

I laughed. “Same. I just order everything in bulk.”

Her gaze flicked over my black tactical pants, worn-in boots, and simple long-sleeve tee. She nodded in approval. “I like that. It’s simpler.”

“Now, Mordecai, on the other hand…”

She laughed. “Yeah, he’s definitely flamboyant. Loves his bright colors, and his silk shirts and vests. But honestly, a lot of cupids are like that.”

After we finished shopping—and after I tried and failed to help put away the groceries—Lance wheeled me over to the kitchen table so I could stay out of Indie’s way.

“I really appreciate you doing all of this,” I told her.

She shrugged. “I was kinda ordered to.”

“You can’t order someone to be compassionate and thoughtful. I know. I’ve tried.”

She shrugged again, looking uncomfortable.

“Well,” I said softly, “is it okay if I lie down for a bit?”

Indie nodded. “Sleep well. I’ll wake you when dinner’s ready.”

Before Lance rolled me toward my bedroom, I glanced back at her. She was pulling ingredients from the bags, the soft afternoon light turning the kitchen golden. It caught in her hair, warming the delicate pink tones, making her skin look luminous.

Indie was beautiful. Stunning, really.

She could be sharp and blunt, but the more I got to know her, the more I realized her prickliness was just armor. She didn’t tolerate nonsense, and she had a very direct way of speaking, but there was kindness beneath all of that. Also, a wicked sense of humor.

At her core, Indie was… exactly the kind of female I could see myself falling in love with.

And that both thrilled and terrified me.

As I pulled the sheets back, and Lance lifted the chair so it was easier for me to slide into bed, I thought about the fact that Indie had been looking for my soulmate for over a year without any luck. As much as I wanted and needed my soulmate, as much as I longed for her, for the first time in a really long time I started to hope... that maybe it would be okay if she was never found.