Нора Робертс - The Becoming

“We’ve all got each other now.” Morena gave Breen a little shoulder bump as they walked. “What do you suppose he’ll make for dinner?”

Since the Mers provided the fish, Marco tried his hand at fish and chips. The three of them ate with the fire simmering, the music humming, and candles flickering.

An easy meal with easy conversation helped Breen put thoughts of vengeful—possibly psychotic—elves and murderous gods out of her head for a little while.

It meant something, a great deal of something, to see her two closest friends, one from each of her worlds, erase all boundaries to forge a strong friendship of their own.

“I know my fish and chips.” As she polished off a second round of the chips portion of the meal, Morena wagged her fork at Marco. “So I can say with considerable authority, this was the best of them I’ve had in Talamh and on this side as well.”

“First time I’ve made them with fish caught by mer-kids. That might add an extra zip.”

“They like you, and a certain water dog.”

“Who, maybe for the first time ever, played himself out.” Breen smiled over to where Bollocks sprawled sleeping in front of the fire.

“Clancy’s cousin in the Far West has a female about to drop a litter. I’m thinking I’ll barter for one of the pups for Harken. They lost their Angel last winter, such a sweet dog she was, and he’s not had the heart to get himself another. But he misses having one running about. He’d accept a pup as a gift, then he’d have that love in his life.”

“Aww.”

She laughed, lifted her beer in a toast to Marco. “I can’t be denying I’m soft on the man, but if you preferred women, I’d toss him over without a thought for you, darling.”

“For my fish and chips.”

“It weighs heavy on your side of the scale.”

“You know, the highlight of my life, seriously, was coming to Ireland with Breen last summer. Seeing things I’d only read about or seen in movies. Actually being there. But hitching a ride to Talamh with her tops it. Meeting you, Keegan and his family, Nan and Sedric, going to a freaking castle, learning to ride a horse, finding out my best pal’s a witch, all of that. Meeting Brian? The best icing on the best cake in the history of cakes.”

“I’m tossing an aww right back at you.” Morena propped her chin on her fist. “You’re mad for him, aren’t you?”

“I guess I am. Hell, no guess about it. Totally crazy about him. I was hoping he’d make it for dinner.”

Breen accepted the quick twist of guilt knowing she couldn’t talk about the new council meeting. “I imagine Keegan’s got most of the riders doing flyovers, or whatever they’d call it. Since I had a little talk with him—Brian, that is—this morning, I happen to know the totally crazy’s mutual.”

“You talked with him? About me? What’d he say?”

She ticked a finger in the air. “Sorry, the details are in the vault.”

“Hey, hey, hey!”

“But the big picture?” She rose, bent over to kiss Marco. “He loves you, and in a way that’s as gooey sweet as a Hallmark Christmas movie, and as strong as Iron Man’s suit. So I approve, and since you made the best fish and chips in two worlds, I’ll deal with the dishes.”

“I’ll help with that, but what’s this Hallmark gooey, and who’s Iron Man, and why is his suit so strong?”

“Sit with Marco. He’ll explain. I’ve got the dishes.”

“Okay,” Marco began. “You’re definitely coming over so we can stream Christmas movies, and Iron Man —all of them, plus The Avengers . Since that’s going to take some time, I’ll give you the gist.”

It was nice, Breen thought, to listen to Marco explain some pop culture to Morena. And entertaining to hear Morena’s questions and responses—more enthusiasm by far for superheroes than holiday romances.

But Marco intended to give her both, apparently, with weekly movie nights.

When Morena left, Breen found it comforting to settle into her room with Bollocks, the fire, her tablet while listening to Marco practice on his harp downstairs.

While he waited for Brian, she thought.

Yes, both gooey and strong. And who wouldn’t want both in their lives?

When worries wanted to intrude again, she decided to push them away a little longer. She’d write her blog now, post it with photos in the morning. That would free up more writing time.

She could finish the first draft of the novel in a matter of days—a week at the most. She really thought she could. Then what she should do is set it aside. Just let it sit there while she finished the second Bollocks book.

And wasn’t it great to know she could fill her mornings doing what she’d always wanted? Odran couldn’t take that from her. Whatever happened, she had this time, she’d done this for herself.

If the novel went nowhere, she’d still have written it. And she’d have done her best.

If Odran broke through, came for her and the Fey, she’d fight, she’d draw on everything she had to stop him. She’d do her best.

Using those thoughts, that determination as a springboard, she started her blog. She’d nearly finished when Bollocks’s head popped up. She’d heard it, too—the sweep of dragon wings.

She scrambled up, hurried to the window. She could admit the quick disappointment when she recognized Brian’s dragon gliding down. That, she told herself, needed to be pushed aside as well.

Easy to do, she realized as she watched Marco come out to greet him. As she watched them embrace. As she sighed over the welcome-back kiss.

“They look good together, Bollocks.” She sighed again, stroking the dog’s topknot as her best friend and his love joined hands and walked together toward the bay.

“A moonlight walk. Romantic. Marco’s found somebody who understands romance. Some swings and misses before this.” She shot Bollocks a look. “I could tell stories there. But it looks like a home run this time, right? And whatever happens, they’ll always have this.”

She watched another moment, then stepped back. “Let’s give them some privacy. I need to finish the blog.”

When she started back to the bed, her tablet signaled a FaceTime request.

“Sally!” She dropped down, accepted, repeated, “Sally! Just who I needed. I was— Holy crap, you look gorgeous!”

Sally shook back his shaggy red wig, angled his head. “You like?”

“Love. Gorgeous, sexy, sultry.”

“We’re doing a tribute to the eighties. Rocking heroines from the decade. Way before your time, baby girl.”

“And you’re not doing your amazing Cher?”

“I wanted to mix it up, try out a new. So I’m hitting them with my best shot.”

“Oh, oh, I know! Of course. Pat Benatar. You’ll be great.”

“I’m following Dell’s Tina Turner, and that’s a tough spot. But somebody’s got to do it, and I own the joint. Speaking of gorgeous, there’s that face. Gorgeous, happy face. I miss you.”

“I miss you. I really, really miss you, and I’m so glad you called.”

“Thought I’d take a chance you and Marco would be around. Where’s my boy?”

Breen glanced toward the window. “On a date. Did he tell you he met somebody?”

“He gave me and Derrick a few crumbs, but not the whole cookie. Somebody he met at a party a week or so ago. Is that the one?”

“That’s the one. Brian. Sally, they’re in love.”

“Hmm.” Breen watched Sally pour himself a glass of wine. “That’s quick.”

“I guess it is, but it’s real. I’ve never seen him so happy, or seen him with someone who just gets him, and loves him because he gets him. I felt guilty about Marco coming with me. So sudden, like I stole him from you.”