Page 3

Chapter Three

A fter the champagne and bread pudding—which my mother insisted on serving despite the carbonized crust and the distinct aroma of despair—Etienne and I made our way back to St. James Bayou.

By the time we reached our house, the evening heat had thickened to a sticky velvet.

The stars hung close and bright as if they were crowding in to hear all the details of the new baby, too.

Our house glowed like a lantern against the moss-draped trees.

I used to think the turreted structure looked haunted—Victorian, three stories, with a porch wide enough for a family of twelve to rock away their troubles.

But now it was just home. Inside, the air was cool from the ancient ceiling fans, and the familiar smell of citrus and bay leaf greeted us at the door.

The first thing I did was toe off my boots and flop onto the fainting couch in the front parlor. Etienne, on the other hand, immediately kicked into caretaker mode. He circled me like a beautiful satellite, plumping pillows and bringing me a glass of water before I even thought to ask.

“ Mon ange , are you really feeling better?” he asked, crouching in front of me and searching my face for signs of distress. Etienne’s concern was so pure it sometimes bordered on the ridiculous, but I could never be mad about it. Not when he looked at me like that.

I waved a limp hand. “I need a new stomach, but otherwise, all good. You can go back to being broody in the library—or whatever handsome princes do.”

He grinned, taking my sarcasm as a sign that I was feeling better. “If I am to be broody, it’s only because I worry for you, chérie .” He brushed a knuckle along my jaw, gentle as a feather.

I pretended to gag. I could always be counted on to ruin a tender moment. “The only thing brooding in this house should be the ghost in the third-floor guest room.”

“There is no ghost,” Etienne said, almost offended. “Just poor insulation and the sound of the bayou at night.

“Tell that to your brother. I’ve seen Tristan talking with ghosts in this house.”

He snorted. “He talks to ghost everywhere. Poor guy.”

I nodded, but a little of my tension drained away. Etienne had that effect on me. Even when I was on the verge of vomiting up my immortal soul, he could make me laugh.

He rose and set about locking up the house, checking every window and door twice.

It was an old habit, born from a lifetime of being responsible for others.

I knew he’d circle back to check on me every thirty seconds, so I tried to look as settled as possible, closing my eyes and sinking into the fainting couch.

I lasted all of fifteen seconds before the agitation gnawing at me kicked in.

I sat up, walked into the dining room, and rearranged the stack of mail on the credenza.

Then I fiddled with the bowl of salt that Jocko insisted I keep by the front door.

He said it was to protect the house from evil spirits, but given the tiny rings I sometimes saw in the white granules, I suspected it was for salting the rim of his glass when he drank margaritas. A favorite of his in the summer.

Then I stared out the window for a solid minute, watching the moonlight break across the bayou. You would think the news of pregnancy would have knocked me clean out, but instead, my brain was running on overdrive, throwing up anxieties faster than I could swat them down.

I started as Etienne’s arms slipped around my waist from behind, and then I just melted into him.

He rested his chin on my shoulder, and I felt the rise and fall of his chest, steady and calm.

I wished I could just borrow his heartbeat for a while.

I was sick of mine feeling as if it might pound right out of me.

“Would you like to go upstairs?” he asked, his breath warming my ear.

I nodded. “Yeah. If I stay down here, I’ll do something crazy like start alphabetizing the pantry. Or vacuuming the curtains.”

“You just need to do something to relax,” he suggested softly against my ear.

A shot him a flirty grin over my shoulder. “Any ideas what that might be?”

He laughed, the sound deep and sexy. He caught my hand and led me up the creaking staircase, our footsteps echoing in the tall, shadowy halls.

The third-floor landing still sometimes made me nervous—so many empty rooms, so many eyes (paintings, but still)—but tonight I felt nothing except Etienne’s solid hand in mine.

Our bedroom was at the end of the hall, painted midnight blue with velvet curtains and a brass bed that looked like it belonged to an absinthe poet. Etienne closed the door behind us and sat me on the bed, then knelt to pull off my socks, one by one. His tenderness made my throat ache.

“I’m sorry if I’m being overattentive,” he said, sitting beside me. “But you scared me tonight.”

I stared at my lap, feeling awkward for no good reason. “You’re not overattentive. I mean, maybe a little. But it’s…nice.”

He kissed the top of my head. “Why are you so anxious? Are you afraid?”

I made a face. “No. Maybe. I don’t know.” The words tumbled out before I could stop them: “I keep thinking, what if the baby isn’t okay? What if he or she is not normal? I’m not even normal, Etienne.”

He took my hands in his, bringing them to his lips. “I love you because you are not normal. I would be very bored with a normal witch.”

“Yeah, but there’s not a lot of precedent for whatever’s going on in my uterus right now. Witch, fey, werewolf? That’s like putting gumbo, jambalaya, and étouffée in the same pot. What if it explodes?”

His laugh rumbled deep and soft. “Then we will clean it up together.”

I almost managed a smile. “I just—I don’t want to mess this up. I don’t want our kid to feel like a freak.”

Etienne was quiet for a moment, then lifted my chin so I had to look at him.

His eyes were full of something fierce and bright.

“Mally. My darling. Our child will never be a freak. He or she will be loved, protected, and cherished. And besides, you have seen my family. Strange is the only thing we do well.”

“You have met my family. I see your strange and raise you full insanity.”

“Well, that proves it, we are perfectly equipped to handle our unusual child.”

That broke the last dam, and I started laughing—wet, ridiculous, ugly laughter, but it felt good. Etienne held me while I laughed and then while I cried. He didn’t try to fix anything, just let me leak all my emotions out onto his expensive shirt.

When I finally stopped snuffling, he kissed me, braving the potential of tears and snot and said, “We will all be fine. Are you ready for bed, chérie ?”

I nodded, and we climbed under the blankets together, his arms curling around me, enveloping me like a protection spell. I felt calmer than I had all night, maybe in weeks. I guess I knew something was happening to me—to us, but I hadn’t once considered a baby.

As I drifted toward sleep, I heard his low voice, warm in the darkness: “You are already a wonderful mother. And our child will be so loved, they will never doubt who they are.”

For the first time since I’d heard the news, I almost believed it.

Unfortunately, one thing Etienne had said to reassure me, had slowly gotten my brain spinning again.

I fought the urge to move restlessly. I was trying to sleep.

I really was. But every time I closed my eyes, my brain would shift into high gear, pelting me with questions I had zero answers for.

Most of them started with "what if" and ended with a slow-motion train wreck. What if the baby came out howling at the moon? What if it was the size of a Kewpie doll and glowed? What if it had crazy, unpredictable magic like me? It was a miracle my magic hadn’t injured myself or anyone else.

What if it was a combination of all of the above?

And what if I was actually a terrible mother and everyone figured it out right away?

"Still awake, chérie ?" he murmured, his lips warm against the nape of my neck.

So much for keeping still and not disturbing my husband.

"I think I forgot how to sleep," I said, rolling over to face him. "Can you re-teach me? Maybe with a demonstration."

He smiled, a lopsided little smirk that made my heart squeeze. "First lesson: close your eyes. Second lesson: listen to the sound of my voice. Third lesson: try not to think of any more disasters."

"Well, now that's the only thing I'm going to think about."

"Then maybe we talk through them, hmm?" He tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. “Tell me what you are fretting about?”

I hesitated, tracing a finger over the warm skin of his shoulder. "That might take all night.”

He feigned an alarmed look. "Okay, maybe hit me with the one that’s bothering you most, and we’ll go from there."

"Are you worried about… Hugo and Lisette?"

He didn't answer right away, which made my nerves buzz with concern.

"Why would I be worried about them?"

I forced a smile, but my insides churned. "I mean, they already have a mother, even if she's in witch pokey. Now they have me, and a new baby on the way? What if they feel like I'm just… taking over their whole life?"

Etienne was quiet, thoughtful. I loved that he never tried to dismiss my fears outright, even when they sounded dumb. "Lisette adores you," he said finally. "Hugo worships you, but would never admit it. They already see you as family."

"But this is different," I pressed. "It's one thing to be the cool stepmom who lets them have extra dessert and teaches them how to levitate a spoon. It's another to add a whole new sibling into the mix. That's a lot, Etienne."

He smiled softly. "Mally, you have never been 'the cool stepmom.' You are their mother. Far more than their biological mother."

“To be fair, your ex isn’t a hard act to follow.”

He laughed and kissed the back of my hand, holding it against his chest. "They will love this baby because it is theirs, and because it is yours."

I squinted at him. "You make it sound so easy."

He shrugged. "It is easy. Children are simple. They love, they fight, they get over it. Adults make things complicated." He hesitated, and then: "What is the real fear, chérie ? Tell me."

It took me a second to find words. "I just…

don't want them to feel like they're being replaced.

Or that they're not special anymore." I chewed the inside of my cheek. "When I was little, Mom never made me feel different for my lack of magic ability. But I still felt like an outsider. Everyone is going to be curious, and I’m sure a bit suspicious about our child. The baby is bound to draw a lot of attention. I don’t want Hugo and Lisette to feel less important. "

Etienne was silent for a long moment. Then he rose up on one elbow, pinning me with a look that could melt asphalt. "Do you know what they said to me just days after meeting you?"

"No?"

"They said, 'Can we call her Maman now, or is that only for real mothers?'"

My heart stumbled over itself. "They said that?"

"They did. I told them they could call you anything they wanted, but Maman was perfect. Because you are, for them, the only real mother they have ever known."

I sniffed, not bothering to hide it. "You're making this up so I'll go to sleep, aren't you?"

He smiled, kissing away a tear before it could escape. "I am French. We do not lie about such things."

I cuddled in closer, letting the warmth of him seep into me. "Maybe we should do something special for them separate from the announcement party."

On our ride home, we’d already discussed that we needed to have a family get together to tell everyone the exciting news.

"Of course. What do you have in mind?"

"Something fun. Maybe a picnic? Or a day at the zoo?" My mind raced with possibilities. "It has to be perfect. Not too over-the-top, but not boring, either. Maybe with cake."

"Definitely with cake," he agreed. "And not your mother's cake."

"God, no," I said. "I want the baby to survive past its first trimester."

He chuckled, his arms tightening around me. "I will help you plan. We will make it a day they will remember forever."

For the first time since dinner, the knot in my stomach loosened. "Thank you," I whispered.

He kissed my forehead, then nuzzled me until I laughed. "Now, do you think you can sleep?"

I pretended to consider. "Maybe we could do a bit more to relax me.” I kissed him slowly.

"Demanding little witch," he teased, but he came up—or rather something came up—that would definitely help me sleep

And as the night deepened, and the old house settled around us with creaks and sighs that mingled with our own sighs and gasps, I finally felt the edges of real sleep approaching.

Maybe tomorrow the world would still be messy and complicated and full of magical curveballs, but tonight, for a few hours, everything was exactly as it should be.