Page 57 of Knocked up By the Minotaur

“Thank you,” I say, and pull back out. I send one final glare at the troll, prodding my finger warningly into his chest and growling, “Not. A. Word,” before taking Ella’s hand in mine and heading for the door.

My sister, for her part, chuckles awkwardly and rubs at her round belly, waving at the troll over her shoulder. “Thanks for the kind wishes!” she calls, pretending to any patrons that overheard his bellows that the congratulations were meant for her. I hope to god that’s enough to derail any further rumors before I’m ready to make my move.

I’ve got two more days before the event. Two days to come to terms with what’s happened and build up the nerves to break the news to Oli. Then once Saturday rolls around, he’ll either break my heart by rejecting us, or I’ll ruin his plans by making him a dad when he never wanted to be.

I just don’t see any other possibilities, and they both frighten me.

Chapter 22

Olistaire

Just a few weeks ago, these grounds were a mess of half-built structures and partially tilled earth surrounded by a maze of construction fences. Now, as the sun begins to set and I stand here ready for the first public event at Hearthstone Lodge, I feel a sense of pride for what we’ve accomplished. Our gardens are a lush, green expanse of grass that stretches all the way to the forest which cradles our land. Cobbled footpaths wind through beautifully built gazebos, which are currently adorned with flowers and gauzy fabric that guests can let down, should they want a touch of privacy. Flame-lit lanterns hang from the gazebo roofs and little candles line the footpaths, magicked by Ismelda to be flameproof and last the night, and the overall feel of the place is simply, well, magical.

In the center of the gardens, we’ve erected a temporary stage and dance floor, around which dining tables have been set up for the later half of the night. I stand in the middle of the dance floor now as Rhokar and Ella have their pictures taken beside a gigantic flower arrangement placed with a perfect view of the lodge behind it, while the band sets up on the stage.

And I can’t stop stealing glances at Grace, who shifts quietly at my side, avoiding eye contact.

I bought her another dress for this evening as a gift, but I don’t yet know if she’s wearing it, since she has a long overcoat on. Her rich, golden-brown hair is pinned gently behind her ears and cascades over her back in graceful waves, and I find myself feeling uncharacteristically nervous as I throw another glance her way, and fidget with my cufflinks.

Is she wearing my dress? Did she like it? When I’d seen her in the dress I’d chosen for her last time, something had shifted in my chest knowing she was wearing what I’d provided for her, looking beautiful in my gift. Now I’m afraid I’ve become addicted to that feeling, and the need to see her in my dress again is stronger than ever. Why haven’t I asked her about it, or taken her coat, or made any sort of comment at all?

I feel odd. Different. Jittery, even. My usual teasing is stuck in my throat, and she hasn’t made an attempt at our banter, either. Something’s changed between us, I know it, I feel it. Does she feel it, too? Or am I going to make a complete fool of myself when I tell her that I want… more. That I want to try something with her that I never have before. That I want to be hers.

I open my mouth to try at a conversation—something, anything to fill the awkward silence between us—but she turns to the side at that very moment to watch as the waitstaff begin setting up with drinks, and I clunk my teeth shut.

Gods and above, Olistaire, get your act together.

“Alright, next couple!”

The photographer waves Rho and Ella off the stage, and Grace rushes forward before I can so much as offer her my hand. I follow, and we both climb the stairs and allow the photographer to position us.

“Shall I… take your coat?” I ask her, mentally slapping myself for the stilted way that comes out. “For the pictures?”

“Yes, yes, good idea,” the photographer responds for her, checking his watch and waving an assistant over.

“Uh, sure, it’s actually strangely warm here anyway.” Grace looks down as she unbuttons, still avoiding my gaze.

“Yes, Ismelda set up runes around the perimeter to keep the gardens warm all night.”

“Oh, really? That’s interesting. Nice idea.”

I’m starting to fear our entire night will be filled with this strange new awkwardness between us, if I can’t unglue my tongue from where it’s lodged on the roof of my mouth and smooth things over.

“Grace,” I start, “is everything…?”

But as her coat drops away to reveal what’s beneath, what little brain power I had left sputters and dies.

She’s wearing my dress. And I’ve never seen anything more breathtaking.

Gold like her skin, like the highlights of her hair, the dress shimmers in the warm rays of the sunset and sets her alight. The material drapes elegantly over her curves, a simple, sleeveless design with a scooping neckline and one long slit that exposes a thigh whenever she shifts just so. The dress looks soft against her skin and I’m suddenly envious of the way it touches her, while I’m all the way over here, empty without her warmth against me. She isn’t just spotlit in her golden beauty, she is the light. I couldn’t look away if I wanted to.

I watch as she runs her palms nervously over her hips, and when I realize my jaw is hanging open, I click it shut and look up to her face. My heart stutters when our gazes finally connect.

“Do you like it on me?” she asks nervously, and my hand snakes out to wind against her waist without me telling it to.

“Do I like it? Grace, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything I like more, not in the entire breadth of my existence.” I pull her closer, and she doesn’t resist. “You are the definition of stunning.”

Her cheeks flush as she looks up at me with wide blue eyes, and when it doesn’t seem that she’ll respond, I smile and slide my hand slowly up along her spine. Now that we’re touching, we feel like the most natural thing in the world. My awkwardness drops away.

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