Page 69 of The Troll’s Summer Flame

Andrea looks at me with wide eyes and arched eyebrows. “Good?”

“Good,” I say firmly. “For someday.”

“Ah. Um. In your perfect world—”

“This world. The one where you’re with me,” I say firmly, daring her to argue.

Andrea laughs softly under her breath, pausing for a minute to watch the coven and Alban finish up and high-five each other. “Okay. In this perfect world, how soon do you tie the knot? Have babies? Build a giant cat run in the yard?”

I think about that. “When my girlfriend wants.”

“Wait, no. That’s nice, but couples have to compromise.”

“But I don’t care how soon. I was never going to have anyone to love, or any family. All I wanted was a nice, peaceful place to exist without hurting or being hurt. I have that. Now, I have more than I ever wished for.” I squeeze her possessively, proudly, and I even let myself pat the baby’s chubby leg in its little suit with the feet enclosed. “I don’t know if we can have children, or if Chopin will like more cats around. My wishes now focus on your wishes. When you are happy, I am happy.”

Andrea leans into me, silent. I’m still learning her, but in a life where your instincts save you, I am a fast learner. This silence is content. Thoughtful.

“I don’t have a timeline, except my family seems to think that a person either needs a spouse or an advanced medical degree before they’re thirty.”

“You are so far from thirty!” I swallow a plea for her to reconsider. Waiting six years to make Andrea my wife seems far too far away, but on the other hand, an eternity is not too far away when it comes to waiting for her.

“My family—I love them—has been close and wonderful, and very important to how I do things. Disappointing them is something I never want to do, but... I’m not fitting the mold right now, moving away, being the first teacher in the family... I’m not a disappointment. I’m just different. And I think I want to be on my own timeline from now on. Our timeline.” Andrea smiles up at me. “I think I’d like to take a cruise next summer—for our honeymoon.”

Honeymoon. Means marriage first. Which means married soon. In the next year.

A tidal wave of excitement and elation sweeps through me, and I hug Andrea hard enough that she squeaks. “Good. Good!” I say, and then I’m angry because I should say so much more.

And Andrea? Andrea is perfect, because she doesn’t mind that I don’t say much at all.

It’s a dream come true.

Too good to be true.

“All right! Unfriendly succubi are effectively barred, but this might be a rinse and repeat situation,” announces Madge, the short, silver-haired tough cookie who owns the magic shop in town and is one of the foundational four of the local coven. “You need to put out something in the paper and one of those town-wide text alerts,” she addresses me. “Tell people to look for signs of irresponsible camping. Charred earth. Gouges in the ground. Sparks and embers where there shouldn’t be, signs of fire left unattended.”

“Got it. Sunderland will contact the paper and do the emergency alert text.”

“Can I help you put the kids in the car?” Andrea offers when Tessa comes over, rubbing her eyes, looking exhausted. “Or do you want me to watch them while you have some coffee and a power nap?”

Tessa Roscommon’s eyes light up. “Oh, my gosh. Would you? I have their portable play pen in the car.”

“Can we, Gordon?” Andrea looks up at me with bright eyes, baby cuddled up to her cheek.

The sheer amount of cuteness should be a controlled substance. “Of course.”

Chapter Fifteen: Family

“Lola says that you are welcome to come and stay with her and Tita Carla at the beach house she is staying in that she rented from her friend Marian. The one with the ugly yellow hair who plays Mah Jongg? Well, I say rented, but your lola actually won a week in Marian’s beach house because Marian got caught cheating. She had extra tiles in her caftan.”

“Scandal alert! Go, Lola!” I laugh at my grandmother’s exploits and tuck the phone under my chin as I open my laptop.

My principal has sent me the tentative schedule already.

The new strings teacher, Kelly Lupescu, has emailed and asked if we want to attempt a kiddie version of a musical like State Fair or The Music Man. Asks if we could get together for lunch.

“Daddy and I can join you down there on the weekend. I’m sure Danica, Meghan, and Shane could find one of their days off to visit, too.” My mother sweetens the pot, clearly aware that a week with Tita Carla is not on my summer bingo card.

“Aww, but I want you to come up here, Mom. Can you come up with the girls on the last weekend in August?”