“Don’t wait up,” Dad adds, winking at me.
“Good luck,” I call to Frey as the door slams behind them.
MOM MUST BE TELLING TRACEY SOMETHING ABOUT TOMORROW SHE WANTS TO BE A SURPRISE BECAUSE WHEN I join them in the living room, conversation comes to a halt.
“Well. Should I leave and come back?”
Mom laughs and pats the seat beside her on the couch. “Course not. I was just giving Tracey a hint about what to expect tomorrow.”
Tracey’s eyes sparkle. “It’s going to be beautiful, Anna. I’m so jealous.”
Trish and John-John are sitting across from us, and John-John says, “Aren’t you and David going to get married, too?”
Trish gives him an elbow nudge. “That’s not a polite question.”
He turns wide innocent eyes her way. “Why?”
Tracey interjects before Trish can reply. “No. It’s an honest question and, John-John, I wish I could answer it. David and I care about each other very much, but I’m not sure David is ready for marriage.”
She sounds wistful and a little frustrated. I can’t help thinking one of the reasons David is reluctant to commit is a bombshell bitch named Gloria.
But it’s not my place to offer an opinion.
Mom deftly steers the conversation to another topic. “I hope you can stay on after the ceremony. It’s so beautiful in Provence this time of year.”
“We can stay a day or two,” Tracey replies. “But I’m afraid we have work waiting for us. And we don’t want to take advantage of your hospitality.”
And so the discussion turns to how best to make the most of a short trip, what to see, where to go. I watch Mom closely for any sign of fatigue, any indication that she’s not feeling well. All I see are bright eyes and a luminous smile, an erect bearing radiating happiness.
Maybe the doctors are wrong. Maybe Chael doesn’t know what he’s talking about. This glowing woman cannot be dying.
It has to be a mistake.
CHAPTER 30
I SPEND THE NIGHT DOZING, WAKING, CHECKING THE clock, impatiently waiting for Frey.
After the night we had last night, he must be exhausted. Of course, no one else knows about that.
Finally, at three a.m., I get up. I go to my parents’ room and listen at the door. I hear Dad snoring softly. At David’s door, I hear him and Tracey doing something other than sleeping. Where the hell is Frey?
I tiptoe downstairs and look outside. The car is parked in front. I take a quick trip through the house and finally find him.
Stretched out on the couch. His clothes are in a pile on the floor, a quilt has been thrown over his hips.
I kneel down, bend over him and whisper, “What are you doing?”
Frey sits up with a jerk. “Jesus, Anna. You scared the shit out of me.”
“When did you get back?”
He glances at the glowing dial on his watch. “About an hour ago. You didn’t hear us?”
I shake my head. “Must have dozed off. What are you doing down here?”
He gives me a “do you really have to ask?” look.
“Ah. My dad.”
Frey nods. “He thought it inappropriate for us to sleep together the night before the wedding.” He smiles and lifts a corner of the quilt in invitation. “But if we’re really quiet, we can have some fun and you can go back upstairs and he’ll never be the wiser.”
I open my robe and let it drop to the carpet. “I’m so happy you’re not the superstitious type. And if I remember correctly, I owe you.”
Then I go to work with hands and tongue and watch Frey become even happier.
AT SEVEN, MOM IS AT MY DOOR, KNOCKING SOFTLY. I’m back in bed, alone, and feeling smugly like a kid who has pulled one over on her folks. I slip on my robe, adjust the blankets and cheerily call, “Come in.”
She enters with a breakfast tray of coffee and croissants. “Anna, I can’t tell you how sorry I am at your father’s ridiculous insistence that Frey sleep downstairs last night.” She puts the tray on the nightstand, goes to the window and yanks open the curtains. “When I found Frey on the couch this morning, I couldn’t believe it. But you know how important these things are to your father.”
Now the “we fooled you” mind-set morphs into something that feels a lot like guilt. “Ah. Where is Frey?”
“He’s in John-John’s room showering.”
“John-John’s room?”
Mom shakes her head, frowning. “Another of your father’s hardheaded ideas—that the bride and groom should not see each other before the ceremony the day of the wedding. Honestly, I don’t know where he comes up with these things. You’d think it was the eighteenth century.”
I start to get out of bed, but she waves me back.
“Stay in bed a little longer. You have a big day ahead.” She pours me a cup of coffee. “Your father will take Frey down for breakfast and I’m supposed to move his clothes into John-John’s room. Those three must have had quite a time last night if your father convinced Frey to go along with this nonsense, to say nothing of talking him into sleeping on the couch.”
He may have talked him into sleeping on the couch, I think, as I sip away on my coffee to keep from grinning, but not to forego a pre-wedding conjugal visit. Should I feel bad about it?
The pleasant lingering glow of good sex makes me decide no.
Besides, in a few hours, we’ll be legal.
I finish the coffee, throw back the covers and swing my legs off the bed. “So what’s the agenda?”
Mom wags a finger. “For you? Nothing for now. The hairdresser is arriving at eight. She’ll also do your makeup.”
I get a little tingle of panic. “Hairdresser? Mom, you know about me and mirrors . . .”
Mom holds up a hand. “Not to worry. Your friend Chael recommended this stylist. She does both vampires and . . .” There’s just a moment’s hesitation as Mom chooses her words. “Regular women. She’ll do you first in here, then Trish and me in my room.”
But I’m still hung up on Chael recommending a stylist. “When did you speak with Chael?” I ask.
Mom’s hand flutters. “Yesterday. I think. He said he was calling to ask if he could bring a guest to the wedding. Of course I told him the more the merrier. We’ve ordered more food and drink than we can possible consume. Especially”—she gives me a conspiratorial wink—“if some of the guests won’t be consuming any at all.”
She helps herself to a croissant. “But then he asked a strange question. He asked if you and Frey had gotten back all right from the party.” She pauses. “When were you with Chael?”
My brain shoots into overdrive. “Funny thing,” I say. “We ran into Chael in Lourges the other night. He invited us to a party and we went along with him. But it was too crowded and noisy. We left before he did and didn’t have a chance to say good-bye.”
Did that come out all right? Most of it is even the truth. Chael doesn’t know anything about what transpired with Vlad, Frey and I. And Frey and I never did get the chance to talk to Chael before we set off after Archambault. I wonder how long he wandered around the party looking for us before he gave up and left?
I wait for Mom to react.
She just nods. “I told him you were both right as rain.” She looks up at me. “You are all right, aren’t
