Page 217 of Cherish

“You’ve both done that very well.” I hug him again. “It’s time for you to just be happy now.”

“I like the sound of that.” He lets me go just as someone clears his throat behind me.

“May I cut in?”

“Go find your man,” I whisper to Jaxon before I turn to see my uncle Finn standing there, staring down at me with my father’s eyes. “I’m proud of you,” he tells me as he, too, wraps me in a hug. “We’re all so proud of you.”

“Thank you,” I whisper as another part of my broken heart mends. “For everything.”

As he steps away, my grandmother takes his place. And, per usual, I have no idea what she’s thinking. “Walk with me,” she says, and the moment I step away with her, we’re no longer on the side of Denali. We’re alone on the boardwalk of my favorite beach in San Diego, and there’s a cluster of chess tables right in front of us.

“Sit,” the Bloodletter says, and I do, because even in the midst of a celebration, there are things we need to say to each other.

As she reaches for a chess piece, I still her hand. “I have something to propose to you.”

She lifts a brow. “I already know what you’re going to say, and I accept.”

“Good. You’ll make one hell of a vampire queen.”

“Oh, Grace, darling.” She laughs. “I already did. This is just the refrain.” Again she goes to pick up the queen on the board, and again I stop her from doing so. “You don’t want to play?” she asks, surprised.

“No,” I tell her. “I don’t. You taught me a lot, but I’m going to be a different kind of ruler than you.”

For a second, I think she’s going to take a bite out of me. But then she just smiles and says, “I think that’s probably for the best,” as she reaches out and sweeps all of the chess pieces off the board.

Epilogue

Carpe

Teach ’Em

—Hudson—

I check the bloody clock for the twentieth time in the last ten minutes. She isn’t here yet. Why isn’t she here yet?

I feel like a total tosser getting this worked up about Grace being a few minutes late, but I’ve been keeping this secret for months now, and I can’t wait much longer to see her face.

Too bad it looks like I’m going to have to.

Figuring I might as well keep busy while I wait for her, I grab my phone off the corner of the desk and make a beeline for the office door. But as soon as I pull it open, I end up plowing straight into Grace.

“Sorry I’m late!” she tells me with a little laugh. “I’ve spent the last half hour mediating between Thomas and Dylan.”

“Again?” I ask. “What are they fighting about now?”

She rolls her eyes. “Dylan’s goat got into Thomas’s room and ate the left half of his sneaker collection.”

“Only the left half?” The thought hits me where it hurts. I’ve spent the last year getting my Versace underwear collection back in order. I don’t know what I’d do if Dylan’s goat ever got its teeth on my blue Baroccos.

“Thomas claims it was in a particularly vicious mood.”

“I can’t say that I disagree,” I tell her. “Eating only the left shoe of every pair seems pretty diabolical to me.”

“That’s what I said. Dylan didn’t seem impressed.”

“He rarely is,” I say as I pull her in for a hug.

She smells like cinnamon and apples, which means she’s been hanging out in the kitchens again in between her mediation duties. She’s determined to learn how to cook. I keep telling her she’d be better off taking a few cooking lessons from our local Sur La Table in San Diego, but she’s determined to learn her way around our medieval keep’s kitchen…much to the chagrin of Siobhan and the other gargoyles.

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