Annie's Song(3)

“You, sweetheart.” Tears burned her eyes. Eric tugged at her hand and she climbed into his lap, pressing her face against his shoulder. He rubbed her back, his hand warm through the thin cotton of her shirt. “And what I want is for you to have amazing memories of our wedding day. If that’s here, with a handful of people—then I’m good with it.” His fingers slid into her hair. “Make up that flexible mind of yours, blondie, and I’m with you.”

She took a shaky breath, gave herself a few seconds to pull it together before she met his eyes. “The best memories I’ve made since my parents died have been here, with you. I want this place to be part of our next big step.”

“Okay, then.” He touched her lips, smiling. “Now, go email Claire, before you burst.”

Annie gave him a noisy kiss, and danced across the hotel room, already writing the email in her head. She couldn’t wait for the reply.





THREE



Marcus knocked on the back door, not surprised when Claire jerked it open almost before he finished. He had felt her turmoil across town; it drew him here, even when he knew the cause. The boy.

“Need a shoulder, sweet?”

“Marcus.” She let out a sigh, then opened the door wide. “Come in. I was reading an email from Annie. I just need to send her a reply.” He followed her into the living room. Her laptop sat on the coffee table. Lowering herself to the sofa, she started typing, her fingers nimble on the keyboard. Marcus always admired the contradictions—former demon, fallen angel, successful business woman. “How do you feel about England?”

“A bit damp for my taste,” he said. A smile tugged at her lips, easing some of the strain. “What is Annie up to now?”

“Making plans.” The smile appeared, lighting up her face. “Sounds like they’re having a good time.”

“And you are pleased for them.”

“It’s been a rough few months. Most of it due to me.” Claire looked down, red laced brown hair swinging forward to hide her face from him. “She deserves some peace. Both of them do.”

“Claire.” Marcus sat beside her, wanting to touch her, to comfort her. He had not earned the right. Not yet. Maybe not ever, if the boy had anything to say about the matter. “Annie loves you. And she would be the first to jump down your throat for taking the blame on yourself.” She lifted her head, such raw pain in those blue eyes he could not stop himself. He slipped one arm around her waist, pulled her into his side. “And I would be cheering her on.”

“Marcus—”

“Hush.” He cupped her chin, leaned in to kiss her forehead. “You’ve earned a bit of that peace yourself. So,” he settled against the back of the sofa, took her with him. “How is Zach?”

Shaking her head, she smiled up at him. “Are you asking because you know that’s what I want to hear, or because you really want to know?”

“Truth—a bit of both.” Marcus ran one hand down her hair, his fingers tangling in the waves that brushed her shoulders. “He turned your life upside down, Claire. I am simply trying to find my place in it. If I still have a place.”

She stood, putting distance between them. Pain twisted around his heart.

“Zach is my priority right now. He has to be—we have to get past this, find our equilibrium—”

“What happened, Claire?”

She hugged herself, meeting his eyes. “His power is starting to manifest, and he’s asking questions. Questions I don’t know how to answer.”

“You will find the words, sweet, when you need to.”

“How do you know?”

Marcus smiled. “You always do.” She closed her eyes. He had not seen her so vulnerable, not since he found her locked in a jail cell, wounded and alone. And alive, when she should have been walking Hell with Azazel. “Claire.” He waited until she looked at him. “What you are building with Zach—it takes time—”

“You think I don’t know that?” There was the spark, the temper he had been on the wrong end of more often than he liked. “We are less than six months in, and I already feel like I’m failing him—”

She cut herself off, turned to the window. Marcus stood, braced himself for rejection, and moved to her side. “I told you I wanted to be part of what you are creating with Zach. I still want that, Claire. I want you.”

“Zach is part of the deal.” Anger edged her voice. He expected it, but not the grief that cut over it, that darkened her eyes when she looked up at him. “And he has to be part of the decision. Right now, he would vote no.” With a sigh, she rubbed her face, stepped away from him. “I haven’t told him about you, but he deserves to know who his mother is in love with before he makes that decision.”