“Honestly, she probably didn’t even notice you were here.” I blew across the surface of my own coffee before taking a sip. I was lying. Mom had to have seen Daniel’s truck in the driveway when she got up this morning. I was impressed with her restraint, really. I’d fully expected her to call by now. But Daniel looked so worried about parental confrontation that I didn’t want to worry him.

He checked his watch and groaned. “I probably should head back.”

“Are you sure?” I pouted theatrically, and he grinned in response.

“Sadly, yes. I have some paperwork I was putting off till this morning.” He took my hand, tugging me over to sit next to him, threading our fingers together. “If I’d known I’d be here this morning, I would’ve made other plans.”

“Well, you know where I live now. You’re welcome here anytime.” I loved Daniel in my space. He was tall, and he took up a lot of said space, but he also fit. We fit. I loved that.

My landline rang about thirty seconds after the sound of Daniel’s truck had faded, and I imagined my mother peering out the window, waiting to pounce. I was so glad she hadn’t pounced on poor Daniel.

“Did your friend leave already? I was going to see if you wanted to bring him down for breakfast.”

“Um . . .” My heart raced, as if I’d been caught. I’m twenty-seven, I reminded myself. I’m too old to be grounded by my mother. Out loud I said, “Yeah, he left. Sorry. I didn’t realize you wanted to make him pancakes.” An image of the look on Daniel’s face if I’d invited him downstairs for breakfast popped into my head, and I had to swallow hard against the giggle in my throat.

“Well, don’t be silly, Stacey. I wasn’t going to make him pancakes.”

“What then, eggs?” I took a sip of my coffee.

“I’ll have you know I made your father a frittata this morning. It turned out great, and if you’re going to be a smart mouth you can’t have any.” She sounded so prim that I couldn’t hold back my laugh this time. “Anyway.” There was a smile in her voice too. “What are you doing today?”

“I don’t know. I need to do laundry at some point, but other than that I think I might just take it easy. Yesterday was a pretty long day, with the wedding and all.” Followed by bringing Daniel home with me last night and . . . My mind was suddenly filled with the memory of Daniel waking me up sometime in the night with his mouth on my skin, me making a run for the condoms in the medicine cabinet, crawling back to bed in the dark, his body pulsing against mine, into mine, softly as he reminded me that we had to be quiet, so quiet . . . I shook my head hard as I remembered I was talking to my mother, and I forced a yawn instead. “I’m pretty beat today.” This was not a lie. I was sore in places I didn’t know could be sore.

“Well, if you’re not going to need the washer right away, I may get some laundry out of the way this morning.”

“Yeah, Mom, of course. It’s your washer, after all. I can do mine after dinner.” Why was she asking me permission when it was her house, her appliances? Low-level annoyance churned in me, a response that made no sense.

That annoyance stayed with me after we hung up, and I couldn’t make sense of it, nor could I make it go away, so instead I spent the day putting my life back in order. I took an Uber over to April’s place to pick up my car. I straightened up my place, which, considering its size, took about a half hour. I took a spin through social media on my phone, uploading some of the pics I took at the wedding, but even the little hearts of social media attention left me feeling restless. I played with Benedick, but as the afternoon got warm he abandoned me and my feather on a string for a nap on the couch.

Maybe he had the right idea. I settled down beside him with a cup of tea, a few of the chocolate chip cookies Mom had made a couple days ago, and our Fun Book Club selection. Our meeting was coming up, and since I’d be leading it in Emily’s absence due to her honeymoon, I should probably read the damn thing. I tucked my feet under me and let one hand rest on Benedick, who purred in his sleep as I rubbed behind his ears. Now would have been a good time for that rainstorm we’d had last night, but I made do with the quiet, sunny afternoon, reading a good book with my cat curled up by my side.

A few chapters in, I glanced down at my phone on the arm of the couch, which had lit up with notifications. I swiped it awake, and the first thing I saw were some tagged pictures of me at the wedding, dancing with Daniel. The first shot was of the two of us from the side, me laughing at something he’d said, him smiling down at me. The second shot was of me from behind, and I scowled a little at it. Not a good angle at all. My finger hovered over the picture, about to untag myself from it, but I hesitated. Sure, the angle wasn’t the best, and my face wasn’t even visible. But there was something about the way Daniel’s large hands cradled my back, something about the way he looked down at me as though he’d never want anything else in his life, that made me want to claim that moment, preserve it.

Last night with him had been perfect, in every single way. I wanted to tag every second of it with our names.

* * *

  • • •

In some ways it was weird that my relationship with Daniel became so intense so fast. I wasn’t usually the kind of girl to sleep with a guy so soon into a relationship—Dex aside, but let’s be real, I’d never thought of him as a relationship when we were having sex—but those months of emails and texts had laid so much groundwork. Now that we’d gotten used to seeing each other in person, we could skip the awkward small talk portion of things and go straight into being . . . well, not in love. We weren’t using that word. Not yet. But we were definitely together.

Daniel fit into my life like a puzzle piece I didn’t realize had been missing. There were the same good-morning texts and late-night chat sessions. But there were also the flowers he sent to my work on Wednesday, and the pizza I had delivered to his hotel room Thursday night while we spent the night binging on bad reality television.

The week flew by, and before I knew it, it was time to get back in costume for the weekend.

“Beatrice. A word?” Simon called my name—my Faire name—as we were just about to leave the Hollow to go up the hill to start the next Saturday at Faire.

Emily and I both turned at his approach, and to my surprise he seemed more interested in me than in his new wife.

I inclined my head. “Captain,” I said in my Beatrice voice. “What is your will?” Emily raised her eyebrows next to me; she wanted to know too.

“I need you today.”

“Captain!” My grin was wide and flirtatious, and it only got wider as Simon looked increasingly uncomfortable. “I’m flattered, sir, I truly am. But I have it on good authority that you are newly wed to this good lass here. Therefore, any needing should be in her direction, aye?”

“Indeed.” Emily put her hands on her hips and tried to look offended, but amusement danced in her eyes. “Tired of me already, good husband?”

“That’s not . . .” He swept off his hat—a black leather monstrosity with a large red feather that had been part of his costume since the early days—and raked a hand through his hair before glaring at the both of us. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.” He’d dropped the accent, which surprised me. That wasn’t like him.

“Do we?” Emily’s smile widened, and he scowled in response, stepping a little closer, his attention all on Emily now.

“I’ve a mind to take you home right this moment, and let you know just how very not tired of you I am.” The accent was back, and his voice was a growl. Whoa. He and Emily had always been flirty in character, and later as their real selves, but this was a little more . . . intense than I was used to seeing from him.

Emily’s eyes flared, then she laughed and shoved him away with one hand planted in the middle of his chest. “Off with you,” she said in her Faire accent. “Beatrice and I have much to do today.”

Simon had fallen back a step when she pushed him, but now he stepped back to us again, hat still in his hand. “I actually really do need to talk to you a second, Stacey,” he said, his voice all Simon-the-Faire-organizer once again.

Oh. This was actually serious, and not just character banter. “Sure, Simon,” I said. “What’s up?”

He shifted his hat from one hand to the other and ran a hand through his hair again, stealing a glance over his shoulder. “Any chance I can get you to sing with the Lilies today?”

I blinked. Of all the favors I had expected, this was the least of them. “Well. I mean, I haven’t sung since, what, college?” When I’d turned twenty-one I’d shed the Gilded Lilies costume as fast as I could, trading that yellow dress for a wench’s costume. It had felt like a rite of passage—being an adult at last. That summer Simon’s older brother Sean had dubbed me Beatrice, a name that I still held on to in his honor.

“Not true,” he countered. “You spent a lot of time practicing with Caitlin during rehearsals. I heard you with her at April’s house.”