Page 58 of Partnering with the Artist

“His name is…Harry? And he…thinks he’s a wolf?”

My sneer morphs into a chuckle. “Delightful, isn’t it? No, no, don’t worry. Otherkin are fully aware they’re humans. It’s a spiritual affiliation. His name isHarry, and he believes that his spirit was once a wolf or he belongs among his wolf brethren in heart and soul. That is, of course, assuming the man truly believes what he’s saying and isn’t just interested in the high that comes from calling himself an alpha and keeping a harem of women.”

Viktor—bless—further narrows his eyes. “Aren’t wolves generally monogamous?”

“Do tell that to Harry’s soul.”

Viktor’s brow rises, but he shakes his head and sets the matter aside. “So. Maelin.”

“Yes. Maelin.”

“Does Crisis need to pull together another Canva wedding board for you two? She’s almost done with the template for ours, which means it’ll be quick. A few phone calls. You two could be hitched in a few weeks, assuming everyone Maelin wants to invite is available.”

Scoffing, I push off his desk, taking a paperweight holding down exactly zero papers with me. Colors swirl in the glass like erupting clouds. “I would sayyes, but she says I need to meet her parents first.”

“A reasonable request.”

“You’re lucky Crisis is an orphan.” I turn the paperweight over in the light, marvel at the shades and depth. “I’m not sure I have any clue how to act in front ofparents.”

“Not all parents were made equally, Zakery.”

“And, yet, all parents made a decision to bring life into this world knowing they couldn’t obtain consent for it.” Covering theglass with my hand, I plunge the colors into darkness.

“I want to be a parent someday,” Viktor murmurs.

I sigh. “And I forgive you for that, because I love you. I just can’t get behind the Russian Roulette nature of having kids. Even if you love a person to death, you never know if they’ll prefer death to your love. It’s messed up. Existence is complicated. Imposing it seems unethical. But, again, since I’m not exactly abeaconof ethics, I forgive you your misguided opinions, if you forgive me mine.”

“Zakery.”

I look at Viktor. Always severe, despite the light yellows that gleam under the brown tones in his eyes. I fully blame the stubble. And the scar.

He asks, “Do you know whether or not Maelin wants children?”

The paperweight almost slips from my hands, but I manage to catch it before it collides with the wood floors of Viktor’s bedroom. “I…do not, no.”

“You may want to find that out if you’re adamant about having no part in reproduction. I know how you are. You’re serious, and stubborn, and if you’ve gotten this idea in your head, there are angles you need to think about before someone gets hurt.”

Yes, that…certainly makes sense. “Isn’t discussing children at this point somewhat premature? I wasn’t expecting to get married so quickly even if that is the ultimate consideration.”

“It’s only premature if you can make peace with any answer she gives you. If you can’t, and she wants children, then it would be cruel to let her develop feelings while you promise marriage—which often comes with a family expectation.”

I very deeply do not believe myself capable of being a father, but I also very desperately do not want to give Maelin up. “Her feelings might change,” I say. “I can talk to her. Convince herthat this world sucks and adding to the population is not ideal behavior. She’s proven herself reasonable. She’ll understand.”

“She could argue that Sunset far from sucks and the world we have access to now that the monsters in our lives have died is the best case scenario for raising a little one who won’t want to end it all.” Viktor turns back to his computer and untwines his arms, placing his fingers atop the keys once more. “There are certain things in a relationship that don’t give way to compromise. Building the foundation of a relationship should have approximately zero convincing. The foundation of a relationship is for convictions, and real conviction doesn’t change so adamantly in the face of a little coercion.” He pauses, lets the words sink in, then says, “Does that make sense?”

I return his paperweight to his desk. “Yes. It makes sense.”

“Good.”

I’ve been naive.

I need to approach this relationship more responsibly. Starting hence.

Turning on my heel, I lower the sleeve of my coat, take in the semicolon on my wrist, free a deep breath, and stride toward the exit. “Thank you, Viktor. I appreciate your wisdom and support.”

My brother grunts as I close his bedroom door, then I march toward the stairs.

Because it is going to be alongnight.

---