Page 54 of The Cartographer

I hug her tight to me, enjoying the way she always thrums with energy and how good she smells. Her long black hair holds the scent of whatever shampoo she uses, and tonight it’s falling down her back. Apples. Not Granny Smiths or a mealy red delicious though. Pink Lady. That’s the type of apple she smells like.

“I missed you too, my apple-cheeked wonder.”

“Glory, get down. Exhibit a little decorum, please.”

Constance’s gentle scolding has the intended effect; Glory loosens her grip and slides down, her rosebud mouth pursed in reluctant contrition as she takes a step back. “Sorry.”

“No need to apologize to me,” I say, chucking her on her chin, and she breaks into the smile I knew was lurking beneath. “Besides, you know Constance just wanted to get in on this action herself.”

Constance shakes her head, but does in fact envelope me in her arms. Hugging Constance always feels slightly combative, as if affection is a full-contact sport. I suspect outside of India and Glory, she doesn’t get much physical contact, and though she enjoys it, it still makes her uncomfortable. I understand, and I think that’s why I’m one of the few other people who’s permitted this intimacy. I hold her tight and pound her on the back, lest this feel too sweet. Don’t want my permit getting revoked for hugging like a wuss.

She pulls back, and if I didn’t know her so well, I wouldn’t think anything of the sheen in her eyes. I’ll make sure to talk to her later in case I’m right.

Cris is next and offers me a hand and a smile. It’s genuine, so he’s happy to be here, happy to be around people he knows, trusts. Good. He still looks worn, not quite like his top-form self, but better than the last time I saw him, which was in Kona for Mal’s funeral. Definitely better. The dark smudges under his eyes are lighter, his skin isn’t so dulled by grief. He’s still hurting, but not in never-ending agony. Cris isn’t a difficult man to read because he never had to be, but I ask him anyway, because people tend to not like it when you can glean every detail you need to know without them opening their mouths.

“How’re you doing?”

He nods, considering, and shifts his weight, thoughtful. “Better.”

“Good. Glad to hear it.” I am. I like to see people in pain, but not that kind and not him. He’s a good man, and he deserves to be happy. Besides, it’s taxing for both him and India when he’s anything but easygoing and fully functional. “Where’s Mano?”

Cris snorts and rolls his eyes, but his smile grows broader. I think he loves that dog.Well done, India.

“He’s with Holo and Lani. They’ve got a mutt of their own, and they play like they were litter mates. You’ll have to meet him. When are you coming to Kona again?”

“Soon, I hope.”

“You’ve got an open invitation.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that.”

He claps me on the shoulder and moves aside, and there’s my India. She was waiting her turn. She likes to go last so she can be held as long as she likes. She looks okay too. Maybe tired, but better than I was expecting. Her dress is…pale pink of all things and modestly cut. I’ve never seen her look so soft. What in the hell is going on?

I hold her out from me to take her in, and she looks away, blushing. “I look ridiculous, don’t I?”

“No, you’re stunning and you know it. I couldn’t quite believe it, that’s all. Now come here.”

When I wrap my arms around her, I have to smother a laugh. There’s a rope chest harness underneath her couture, and I play my fingers over the bonds, trying to picture it purely by touch. Perhaps I’ll get to see it later. Cris, unsurprisingly, does beautiful rope work.

“You were either a very good girl or very bad. Which was it, little one?”

“Maybe both,” she murmurs against my chest. Sounds about right. If there weren’t so many people here, I’d slide a hand down to see if she had a hip harness to match, but I’ll have to wonder for now. I’d like to hold her forever, but we do have company and I haven’t made introductions yet. Poor Allie is probably standing there, fidgeting. Guilt smacks me upside the head.Jesus, Walter, you’ve got responsibilities. Fucking fulfill them.

I give India one last squeeze and drop a kiss on her head. I need to make an effort to see her more often. She’s got Cris, but I don’t want her to forget she’s got me too. Not only when she’s in crisis, either. Always.

I ruffle her hair when I pull away and then search over my shoulder for Allie. He’s standing a couple of paces behind me, his hands closed but not clenched by his sides, taking in everything and everyone. I reach back for him, taking his arm and applying pressure, my fingers digging into the fine fabric of his suitcoat. He really does look marvelous.

“I wanted to introduce my…” None of them would blink if I said fuck buddy, but Allie might cringe. Partner is too much and might raise some eyebrows. Sub would do, but I don’t want to embarrass him, and I’ve never said that out loud in his presence. “…companion.”

Perfect. And I resisted the “dinner” I could’ve put before it. Because it’s not just about dinner. Certainly not anymore. If I’m lucky, I’ll get to hold onto him until he finds someone else. If I’m very lucky, that will take a while.

“This is Allie.”

Saying it out loud makes something inside me glow. He’s given me a gift, and I savor unwrapping it, saying his name like I’d slip a finger gingerly under Scotch tape and peel it up without wrecking the paper.Allie, Allie, Allie. I’ll say it a million times tonight, every time I get the chance. Then I’ll stop, because he hasn’t extended the privilege to when we’re alone. I’d like to think we’re friends, but I’m not sure what he would say.

“Allie, this is India, Cris, Constance, and Glory.”

He holds out a hand and shakes their hands, dropping nods and mumbling greetings to everyone. His jaw flexes as his eyes flick to meet their gazes. He’s noticeably taller, bigger than anyone else here, even Cris, but his posture is apologetic. I don’t want him to apologize. I want him to be proud because he’s glorious. Wonderful. It’s difficult for him because this is the first time he’s had people look at him and know what he is, because he’s with me. I don’t want him to resent me, and I don’t want him to be ashamed.

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