Page 22

AMbrOSE

P iper looks between me and my mother, her eyes wide as she fidgets with her fingers.

I hate that this is how we’re ending the afternoon.

Not that the visit to Fitz’s was relaxing, nor was our lunch conversation particularly uplifting, but something shifted between us.

A trust is opening up that I haven’t had with another person before.

And now I have to deal with the woman who taught me to never rely on another person.

“Piper, would you mind giving me and dear old mother here a few minutes?”

Piper nods and disappears upstairs. What a fucking day. I’m worn out and I haven’t even done anything besides eat tacos and visit a scary old woman.

“Really, Ambrose, you act as if it’s an inconvenience to see me.” My mother swipes her finger over a vase. She rubs it against her thumb as if everything in the house is coated in dust. She’s so disappointed. It’s exhausting.

“Would you like to go to the great room? Or do you want to stay in the front hall?” I gesture toward the massive living room. My mother sniffs and briskly walks into the other room.

“Can you have someone bring us some tea?” she says as she sits in my favorite chair. I sigh and flop onto one of the sofas.

“I don’t have servants, Mother. So if you want tea, you’ll have to make it yourself.”

“Can’t your wife make it?” She emphasizes the word wife .

“I’m not asking Piper to come back down here to wait on you. Is this why you came over? For tea?” I glance over at the bottles of booze lined up against the wet bar in the corner. I might need a drink.

She waves her hand dismissively and leans back in the chair, crossing her legs. She’s wearing an outfit more suited to the Mediterranean than Mystic Hollows in March. Breezy wide-legged pants and a striped lightweight sweater are rounded out by a pair of espadrilles.

When she doesn’t say anything else, I begin to lose patience. “Why exactly are you here?”

“Can’t I visit with my son?” she snaps.

“There’s a first time for everything.” I raise a brow. Fuck it, it’s been a long day. I’m ready for a drink. I get up off the couch to my mother’s scoffing and pour myself a drink. “Would you like one?” I hold up my glass, but she once again waves me off.

“Do you know what you’re getting into with this council business?” She smooths the hem of her sweater, even though it’s perfectly flat.

“I’m not sure any of us do. These trials are a first, from what I understand.” I stay by the bar, knowing I’ll need a refill before long.

“I meant the council. Do you really want that kind of responsibility?”

“Do you?” I ask, cocking my head to study her. “In all seriousness. Is that something you want? You rarely show up for coven events. You’ve hardly ever been involved with council decisions in the past ten years. At least I hope you weren’t a part of their horrible choice to curse the entire coven.”

“Of course not.” Bianca clutches her pearls. Real ones that adorn her neck. She fiddles with the matching earrings. “But it’s my responsibility as a member of one of the founding families to be a part of the coven council.”

My mother has always been a Roth. My father took her last name when they married because it was the name with power, with history, in this town. Although my father was still from a powerful family as well. They were both cursed before they passed it along to me.

“Maybe it’s time for you to turn over that responsibility to me. I’m also a Roth.”

“Who has flitted around from girl to girl, never settling down, or growing up.”

I hum, throw back my drink, and pour another. “What an odd thing to say to a recently married man.”

My mother makes a dramatic sound. “Please. Don’t play me for a fool. That girl is meek and has the personality of a mouse. I know you’re not seriously interested in her.”

I slam my glass down on the bar, startling Bianca.

“Her name is Piper. She’s my wife, and you aren’t going to speak about her this way.

” So what if I’ve had the same thoughts in the past?

I’ve been proven wrong. Piper only seems quiet.

There’s a firebrand buried under the surface; she just doesn’t always know how to coax it out.

Since we’re speaking our minds today, I ask the one thing that has bothered me for years.

“How about this, Mother? Why don't you tell me why you’re always running? Why couldn’t you stay in Mystic Hollows for more than a handful of days when I was growing up?

Or hell, you could have taken me with you.

Did you realize as soon as you popped out a kid that you weren’t meant for that life?

A little late, but there it is.” I shrug as if to say, whoops, I had a baby, and turns out, I have no maternal instinct.

She rises from the chair, my favorite fucking chair, and straightens her sweater. “I’m leaving. I don’t need to be subjected to this callous treatment.”

I shake my head, watching her disappear once again.

“Just be honest with me. For once in your life,” I call out.

She pauses in the opening that leads to the hall, her hand running over the carved wood of the archway. When she speaks, she doesn’t look at me, and her words are so quiet I almost can’t hear her.

“Because you remind me of what we did. The curse that we passed on. Every time I look in your face, I see my own guilt.” Her chin is tucked, her eyes downcast.

For what might be the first time, my mother is being honest with me. I’m stunned and angry. All this time and it’s because of this fucking curse. Again.

“And that’s my fault?” The words are bitter and filled with anger. My hand clutches my glass so tightly it’s in danger of shattering.

“No.” She’s holding on to the trim around the archway, inhaling and then slowly blowing it out.

“But it makes it hard to look at you.” She stands there, unmoving, not saying a word.

Finally, she points to the letter she was holding when Piper and I first got home.

“It’s the first challenge. I hope you know what you're fighting for.” With those parting words, she leaves, and I proceed to get drunk.

I’m not sure how much time has passed when Piper sinks down onto the couch next to me. Long enough that I’m well on my way to being sloshed.

“Hey.” She takes the bottle out of my hand, giving me a censuring look when I protest. I don’t need her to tell me I’ve had enough to drink. She surprises me by taking a swig, wincing at the taste.

“Fun discussion with your mom?” Taking another drink, she hands me back the bottle with a shudder.

“The funnest.” I fake a smile. “Turns out, my mother is never around because I remind her that she’s a horrible person.” I laugh. “Isn’t that a bitch.” Once again, I get to pay for my parents’ poor decisions.

“I don’t want to think about that right now.”

I roll my head to look at Piper. She’s still in her jeans and sweater from earlier, but she looks comfortable and cozy. I want to pull her into my lap and wrap my arms around her.

“How long did we agree not to have sex?”

“What?” the word bursts out of Piper’s mouth, her eyes wide with surprise.

“We should have a drunk clause in there.” I nod confidently.

Piper smiles. “What’s a drunk clause?”

Her eyes are so blue. There’re a few tiny freckles over the bridge of her nose. Her lips are full and would be incredible to kiss. If that was a fucking possibility. “That we can’t be held responsible for what happens when we’re drunk.”

Piper licks her lips, her eyes fluttering down to my mouth and back up again. “I’m not drunk, though.”

I tip the bottle up to her lips. She laughs and whiskey dribbles down her chin. I lean forward and lick her. Piper sucks in a breath and shakes her head.

“You are trouble. And no. I meant what I said. You’ll get bored with me and be ready to move on. I get too invested. I’ll be heartbroken and you’ll be off living your best life,” Piper says with a laugh, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

“I’m not bored yet. Not at all.” Piper is this fascinating mix of sweet and salty. She’s quiet until something gets her fired up, and then watch out. “Besides. You’ll be the one who gets bored. I’m just a pretty face.”

“You think you’re pretty, huh?” Piper swipes the bottle from me and takes another drink.

I shrug. “I know I was a convenient pick for the job of husband. No emotional ties. No expectations that someone like me will get hurt.”

Piper frowns, placing her hand on top of mine. “Ambrose, I picked you because you’ve always been kind to me. You're smart and…” She lowers her head, her cheeks turning pink. “I think you’re funny.”

Her words leave me stunned. Kind. Smart. Funny. Those are the things that drew her to me? Wait until she finds out that it’s all a facade. I’m just a fool who has no idea what he’s doing. Then she’ll leave. Just like everyone always leaves.

“Well, joke’s on you. I’m not at all funny, and I’m actually way more boring than I let on.”

Piper swipes her thumb under my lip, holding it up to show me a drop of whiskey. She thoughtlessly pops her finger in her mouth and my dick jerks in my pants. Crone’s sake. She doesn’t even realize what she does to me.

“It’s a good thing boring is my favorite thing.”