Page 12 of Edge of Stars

His purposeful pause already implies what he’d say as follow-up if he could. By guests, he’s really only referring to one in particular.

Hades.

And by Hades, he means that the night might just be getting started.

But I can’t reply with typical I understands and it’s okays. Not without lying to my grandfather, which I’ve never done before. And do not plan on starting now.

“Maybe some guests will just have to change their minds.” Hurray for Kell, who has no issue at all with lobbying to Gramps.

But does Gramps know something we don’t? Something in the works besides our carefully laid plan?

Even if that’s not the case, does his hell guard job description now include an hourly report? And if so, to whom?

Are we all screwed before this mission even starts?

Try as I can for an inkling of that from Gramps’s aura, there’s nothing there for me to pull but the pride and love he’s already declared aloud. That means his mild jitters are really just grandfather of the bride anticipation, or he’d learned how to sequester certain thoughts just for his master.

It also means a third thing.

That right now, there’s nothing I can do to change any of it. There’s only one road to take. One path to follow. One set of stairs to climb…

To a collection of moments I’ll never forget.

For so many reasons than the obvious.

To have and to hold…

As I scoop my hand beneath Gramps’s elbow and step forward, I look out across the waves bringing the tide along the rugged beach and cove below. No magic is necessary for the beauty of this twilight, with the magenta of the sky kissing the silver foam of the sea. For a moment, I remember the last time it all took my breath away like this. The night I flew over Rerek’s villa, reaching deep inside for powers I had yet to claim or try.

Magical providence had been good to me then.

For better or for worse…

I only hope, as I ask it for a bigger bucket of help, that it’s inclined to smile in once more…

So we can really make this day the start of the better part.

CHAPTER FOUR

MAXIMUS

“Little pro tip, my beautiful son? Today is supposed to be the happiest day of your life.”

A chuff escapes me, helping with the small smile down into Mom’s twinkling gaze. “I am happy.” It’s not a lie. It’s just not the whole truth either. “Just nervous too.”

And there’s the massive understatement on top of it all. Which, damn it, she already seems to comprehend in full. I view it already across her face, with the wattage of her smile diving by double digits.

I brace myself for the witticism that’ll double as her demand for information. Instead, she fluffs my boutonniere, tucks some stray hairs back from my face, and murmurs, “Well, nervous is normal…”

“But?” I say it as soon as her trail-off implies it.

A few more moments, in which she brushes nonexistent lint from my shoulders before shrugging one of her own. “I’ve seen you shake hands with nervous before. And this is something past that.”

“Hey, if you’re not ready to throw up, you’re not doing it right.”

She perks a brow. The expression just intensifies how pretty she looks, even in the simply cut dress that she purposely picked to not upstage Veronica. But the dress, in the merlot shade that the mothers agreed to wear, simply complements Mom’s coloring better. The makeup adds depth to the blue specks in her eyes, and her blond curls pop against the dress’s dramatic color.

“Clever,” she remarks to my declaration. “Dredging up more Einstein for us today, Professor?”