Page 74 of Secondhand Soul

“Mistletoe is a Class-A substance,” Lazarus groans, slowly withdrawing, then licking my essence off his shining fingers. “And so is this sweet honey. Addictive and deadly. Very worth killing for,” he sighs.

And for us, I think that’s a compliment.

“There’s a bathroom up here,” I whisper, reluctantly un-straddling Lazarus, floating on a cloud of relief, disbelief, and happiness. “Wanna go get cleaned up with me?”

“Mmhm.” Lazarus slowly follows me along the dark, creaking wooden walkways between displays and shelves. “Are you... Was that okay?”

“It was amazing. Are we still on for tomorrow night?” Relief falters. What if I somehow did this wrong and he’s changed his mind? What if he’s got cold feet? What if I came on too strong?

“I can pick you up at eight?”

“Sounds good.”

Chapter Twenty: Lazarus

“Um. It’s Christmas Eve.”

“I know. That’s why the shop is closing at noon, and the bread is rising for dinner tonight.”

“I asked Victoria out. To drinks. Because I forgot about Christmas Eve.”

“To be fair, you’ve never celebrated it, have you?” Manny asks, slamming a hood shut. “A lot of last-minute checks before people hit the road. To grandmother’s house they go,” he half-sings.

“No. I never have. I didn’t get her anything.” And I bet she’ll be spending Christmas alone. Manny and Rhea invited me to spend the day with them, which means they probably didn’t invite her, since until last night, we weren’t exactly on speaking terms.

“You can go shopping. Your Christmas bonus is right here.” Manny hands me a bank envelope full of cash—and it’s thicker than usual. “Why don’t you ask her over for dinner tomorrow night? Or... Or for presents under the tree in the morning.”

“Presents?” I blink. I already received eight gifts over the course of Hanukkah from these guys. They put them on my toolbox where I’d have to pick them up to get to work, and where I would be sure to get them, even if I conveniently “forgot” to come to any of the special meals they’ve been hosting or going to at Mr. Minegold’s with Reginald Gray, the golem, and his cute little wife. “But I already said—”

“That we didn’t have to get you anything for Christmas? Well, we always said we’d raise our children to celebrate a variety of holidays and cultures,” Rhea says as she pats my back in passing. “I got Victoria a couple of things. You asked her out, you said?”

“Yeah. Uh. For drinks tonight.”

“I’m so glad you’re back on speaking terms. She was in a horrible situation, Laz, and she didn’t have all the information about you. I think she’s a sweetheart—and that she can handle you, you hooligan.” Manny ruffles my hair.

I feel like a kid around them, a happy kid, a safe kid. And it’s wonderful. I can’t wait for the baby to get here, and be safe, and share this.

And I suddenly want Victoria to share this, too. She has a parent, but any parent who can just be cut out of your life, or drift away... I don’t have much room to talk, but I feel like Manny and Rhea would fight tooth and nail to stay in my life, to prove they loved me and wanted me as their child.

“I’ll ask her tonight and text you. Did you get the box sent off to Hannah?”

Rhea nods. “It was mostly snacks and gift cards. She needs to stay off her feet completely, and I’m afraid she isn’t going to be able to.”

I nod. There’s so much Rhea’s not saying. How she worries about the baby and Hannah, too, and how mad she is that she just can’t fix it all.

“Can you guys go up there and like... take care of her?” I suggest, even though I hate that idea.

Because what if it still goes wrong? I keep sneaking looks, looking at statistics. After 27 weeks, the survival rates start to climb past 90%.

And that’s still ten percent, one out of every ten tiny babies, that won’t come home.

What about Hannah, this brave woman who is fighting so hard? I know Victoria would have fought this hard for her Emily. But then she would never have let her go. Placed her.

I remind myself the situations are different.

“Hannah’s parents and sibling are supposed to go to be with her this week, so she should have lots of help. Besides, you can’t run this shop all alone,” Rhea drops the last bit of her sentence like catnip in front of a big, stalking panther.

Oh, yes, I pounce.