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“You know I have a front door you can use,” Callie comments with an exasperated expression.
“And get caught in the middle of one of your grandmothers’ battles? Hard pass,” Donovan retorts, approaching Callie’s bed.
I look away when he leans down to kiss her, but the sounds alone indicate it’s not a quick peck on the lips. A familiar jealousy boils up, but I do my best to breathe out the feeling. I’ve decided to be a part of this, and I won’t make my issues Callie’s burdens. She has enough of them without me adding to them.
When they finally finish, Donovan shares a far too comprehensive account of all the things he’d like to do to her that leaves Callie stammering.
“Time to go,” I interrupt, walking outside to stop myself from dragging him away from her. Leaping from the balcony railing, I glide down and land on the spongy grass. I dismiss my wings and start tugging my shirt back over my head.
Donovan appears almost silently next to me while I’m tucking my shirt into my jeans. “Might want to leave that loose unless you want your parents to see the huge bulge in your pants.”
Annoyed and embarrassed, I pull my shirt out, stuff my hands in my pockets like that will somehow help, and march toward the front of the house.
His gait is easy as he keeps pace with me, and he looks far too amused over my discomfort. “Glad you finally got over yourself. It was fucking painful to watch.”
I grunt in response and keep walking.
“No long-winded speech of the necessity to think things through and weigh the consequences before committing?” he taunts, clearly baiting me.
Unfortunately, it works.
Stopping abruptly, I turn toward him as all of my uglier emotions simmer on the surface. “No, because I didn’t.” Waving my hand toward the house, I explain, “Me being with Callie is reckless. With the way I am and the future I hold, the potential consequences of our relationship are staggering.” I run both hands over my head, digging my fingers into my scalp. “But I couldn’t take it anymore. I love her. I’m in love with her. The idea of never being with her made me sick.” Unable to stand still, I pace in a short circuit of a few steps in either direction. “So I damned the consequences and chose my selfish desires over logic.”
“Dude, you’re thinking about this way too hard,” he replies with a shake of his head. “You’re dating, not getting married. Maybe wait on having the existential crisis until after your first date.”
“How are you so okay with all of this?” I ask, feeling helpless under the weight of everything that could go wrong. “How does it not bother you seeing Callie with other guys?”
“Easy.” He holds up a single finger. “One, it’s super hot to see her get turned on regardless of who’s making it happen.” Up goes another finger. “Two, it takes the pressure off me to try to fulfill all her needs. Honestly, it would be a fucking disaster if I tried. And three…” Dropping his hand, he clears his throat and looks at me with surprising seriousness. “She won’t be alone when I’m gone.”
I don’t ask him to clarify if he means leaving to fight demons or death, because for him, it might be too close to make a distinction. Instead, I confess one of my greater fears. “What if she decides that she prefers the rest of you over me?”
Sighing like this conversation physically pains him, he grips my shoulder and gives me a hard shake. “You’re being an idiot. It’s not a fucking competition. Literally the whole point of poly is not choosing. How she feels about the rest of us doesn’t change how she feels about you. Your relationship will sink or swim because of what’s between you two, so step up and don’t be a fucking dumbass, and you’ll be fine.”
Staring at him like I’ve never seen him before, I ask, “Did you just give me good, considerate advice?”
“Fuck off,” he grumbles, stomping toward the front of the house. “I don’t know why I help any of you.”
As much as I hate to admit it, Donovan is right. It’s not a competition with the others, it’s a battle within myself. Taking one final look toward Callie’s balcony, I reach for the feelings of love and determination that brought me here. If I want this to work between us, then I need to let the walls down. I need to be brave.
Epilogue
Adelmo
Adjusting the sleeves of my suit jacket, I relish the feeling of wearing fine fabrics once more after nearly a year of nothing but polyester blend jumpsuits.
“You clean up well, Santiago,” the prison guard remarks with amusement.
Retrieving my gold Cartier watch from the manila envelope, I smile up at the man. “Thanks, Charlie. It’s the lack of orange, I think. The color has never gone well with my olive complexion.”
“You pulled it off better than most,” Charlie replies with a laugh. The tall, well-built man crosses his heavily muscled arms and leans against the beige brick wall.
Surprisingly good-natured considering his chosen profession, he was the first guard I worked on charming. The secret to success is always knowing which friends to make. Prison was far more challenging than I expected, a constant balancing act of befriending guards and inmates alike, but I didn’t make it on the council out of sheer dumb luck. Even without magic, a sharp mind and honeyed tongue can open many doors. For example, getting my sentence reduced from five years to ten months.
After the watch, I slip on two rings. One is a large piece with the Lyncas family crest engraved within the gold and encrusted with precious stones, and the other is a simple gold band.
Charlie’s expression shifts to mild surprise. “I didn’t know you were married.”
“Widowed,” I reply with a practiced melancholy smile.
