Page 70 of Scrooged for the Holidays
I don’t know how Remi could possibly think that, but before I can leave, Greer spots me. Surprise wells in my gut. I wasn’t in her line of sight before.
I glance around to see I moved. I don’t remember doing it. I would say the control on my aura must have slipped and pushed me closer to her, but it’s nowhere to be seen. All my time spent berating myself to maintain control must be working, because no black tendrils sneak out of me.
I take another step forward, my body moving without thought. Greer swallows the bite of food she’s been chewing, her gaze locked on mine.
“Sam,” Kai says out loud. “Nice of you to join us.”
I dip my chin to acknowledge him, but my eyes don’t leave Greer’s. I take yet another step forward and then another. I should force myself to turn around, but I find I don’t want to. In fact, it feels as if I can’t, like an invisible string is connected to her and tugging me forward.
I bite the inside of my cheek, the sting of pain keeping me grounded so I don’t lose all sense like Remi and Kai have. I bite a bit harder, knowing if I were human, I’d taste blood. Then I release the skin and fill my lungs with air, clearing my thoughts.
I suppose if I stay, if I get to know her as Remi says, it will be good in the end. Tomorrow night is my night with Greer, the night spent in her future. This will not only help me understand how to help her better but also be good practice for me. I can continue to regain my control over my aura, and if I can’t, Remi and Kai are here to intervene.
Yes, this is a good thing. It doesn’t need to be anything else but work related.
“Is it alright if I do?” I ask.
“Sure,” she replies. “Do you live here, too?”
I nod. “I do.”
I take a seat in front of an empty place setting that Kai must have set for me, hoping I’d join. He’s at the head of the ten-person table with Greer to his right. Remi is seated next to her, and now I sit on Kai’s left and across from the woman of the hour.
I look up from the setting and gently smile at him.Thank you,I say through our link.
I’m glad you came,he responds.
My shoulders ease, and if we didn’t have an audience, I would kiss him in apology. It’s hard to stay upset with Kai—or Remi, for that matter. I’m not an idiot, and I understand they’re simply reacting to Greer in the way they feel is best, even if I don’t agree with it. I’ve been with them long enough to know they’re both beings that don’t hold themselves back from living.
Kai learns from the past but doesn’t dwell on it, while Remi enjoys the present moment and doesn’t worry about the future. I’m not the same.
I’ve always been the most cautious. It comes with the territory of who and what I am. Not only do I carry the heavy weight of my angelic grace derived from The Angel of Death, but I also think of the future every second of every day. That means I collectively look at how the past and present affects what will be. It’s why I can’t let go fully, why I need to be the one to stay on my toes and think of how this all ends for us, especially since Kai and Remi refuse to. They can have their fun, but one of us needs to keep our head clear, and that will be me.
The clink of Greer setting down her wine on the table draws my attention to her. She lifts a well-manicured brow at me. “Are there any other guests in this place besides me?” she asks.
Remi’s rumbling laugh fills the space. “Are you going to try to give me business tips again?” he asks, most likely to avoid her question since there aren’t souls here besides us.
“You tried to give him business tips?” Kai asks in amusement as he reaches for my plate.
Normally, when we eat dinner together as part of our evening ritual, one of us snaps our fingers, and the meal is prepared and on our plates. It’s rare we cook, but judging by the meal and the pasta noodles in different sizes, Kai cooked. He doesn’t do it often, but apparently, he wanted to cook for Greer and make it meaningful.
From what he’s told Remi and me about his past, his maternal grandmother was Italian, and one of the ways he’s stayed connected to his family is by recreating the dishes he remembers from childhood. Homemade pasta is one of them.
“She did. Would you like to tell them what you think, Greer?” Remi asks.
“Are you going to get huffy about it again?”
He picks up his wine glass, eyeing her over the brim. “I did not get huffy.”
“I seem to remember you being huffy.”
“He can get huffy,” Kai adds. “Sam will agree.”
Everyone turns to me as I place my cloth napkin on my lap. “He can.” I look at Remi, who is faking being hurt. “But I can as well.”
Kai snorts playfully. “Understatement.”
I narrow my eyes at him, a silent warning that if he gets too cheeky, I’ll make sure he pays for it the next time we’re alone.
