Page 149 of Mercy & Her Devils

But he chose his side.

And karma’s a bitch.

The kitchen island is covered with glitter, which is left over from the glitter painting that Lark and I were doing with Millie earlier.

My hands and fingernails are still sparkling too. It’s probably plastered across my nose and cheeks as well.

I can see gold flecks in Lark’s long black hair and on the sleeves of his jade suit.

Millie doesn’t loosen her hold on her large peacock stuffie.

“Daddy rescue Pee-pee!” Millie shoves the stuffie hard into Lark’s chest.

To make her point, she makes Pee-pee peck Lark.

I try not to laugh at the name that she’s given her toy because she can’t say the full name.

“Gentle with Daddy, honey.” Lark rubs his chest. “Some of us aren’t as young as we once were.”

“You said it, old man,” Antonio jokes.

He’s standing at the Belfast sink in the corner next to Gabriel.

Antonio has slung his navy blazer over the counter and rolled up his sleeves. He’s washing up with a breezy gusto that’s sloshing as many bubbles over his shirt as the plate in his hand.

Gabriel is leaning casually next to him in a black polo neck and jeans. He’s smiling at Antonio’s antics in a way that reminds me — almost — of the way that he used to look.

He’s been smiling more and more frequently over the last three months.

It makes my heart sing with hope.

“Did you say something?” Lark quirks his brow. “Finish your chores before bed, pup.”

“Don’t worry, I know that you’re too tired to help. It’s late for someone of your age.” Antonio keeps his head over the sink to try and hide his grin.

Gabriel snorts.

Millie giggles.

Lark arches his brow. “Oh, like that is it? Traitor. Perhaps, I’m the dragon.”

Lark roars in an impressive impression of a dragon.

Millie only giggles louder.

Antonio laughs too.

Lark rolls his eyes.

“So, the dragon,” I point at Lark, and he plays along, roaring again, “comes charging out of the cave.”

“Bad, bad, dragon. Time out.” She scowls at Lark, pretending that Pee-pee is scolding him.

Now, I’m trying not to laugh. I almost change the story just to see if Lark would go along with it.

It’d be worth it to see him facing the corner.

“But the brave Princess Peacock,” I finish the story, as it’s meant to be told (at least in my own invented version), “doesn’t run, even though she’s scared. She tells the dragon, “The knight said that you’ve been misbehaving by attacking all the villagers. Please stop.””

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