The rest of the afternoon is Peter-free and spent with my mother on our hands and knees in the garden. She's teaching me about the tulips, and I'm trying to remember everything.

“Don't worry,” she says, tapping my shoulder with a trowel, “I wrote it all down. Just be glad I'm not a fan of orchids. Now those are hard to grow.” I had no idea.

God, I was going to kill all these plants without even trying. Maybe Peter could help me. He liked nature.

“So, she says,” ripping open another bag of mulch, “you love him.”

My chin hits the ground and I say, “come again?”

Her hand brushes some dirt off my nose.

“You love him.” I flounder and can't speak. How did she know?

“Yeah.” She laughs.

“Don't me ashamed of love, ma fleur. He may not be the boy I would have chosen for you, but if you love him and he loves and takes care of you, that's all I can ask for.” Oh crap, here come the waterworks. What I don't tell her is that Peter can't love me. But what he does give me is so worth it.

Even when he's a pain in my ass.

I fall into her arms, tears escaping from my eyes. “I love him.” It's such a relief to say it out loud. I don't know why I have to cry about it, but there you are.

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“I know,” she says into my hair. “I know. C'est la vie.”

“Hello, Ava,” A voice says from the roof. We both look up to find Peter perched on the edge, his legs dangling over the rain gutter. Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

“What are you doing?” I shade my eyes against the sun, trying to wipe the tears away.

“Talking to you. I did not want your father to see.” He smiles again. I answer him with one of my own.

“Such a smart boy.” Mom gazes up at him as if he's an exotic bird perched on the roof. She shrugs and goes back to gardening.

“I want to take you on a date.”

“A what?” I swear I heard him wrong.

“He said a date,” Mom says, jabbing me in the ribs.

“Yeah, I got that.” I look back up to Peter.

“Like the kind of date where you pick me up and we go out and have awkward conversation and then I wonder if you're going to kiss me or not on the front porch, that kind of date?” This seems like a really bad time for something like that.

“More or less.”

“And how are you picking me up for this date?” I put my hands on my hips. It's not that I'm against it, but I really don't think he can pull it off.

“I have a car I can borrow.” I don't like the sound of that. He probably borrows clothes and shoes, too.

“Sure you do,” I mutter. Mom just hums and keeps spreading mulch.

“Fine. I would love to go on a date with you, Peter.” It sounds bitchy. I soften my face with a smile. In case he's offended. Which he never is.

“Ava's never told me where you live, Peter.” It seems like she's trying to keep the conversation going, but really, she's pumping him for information. But she's a mom, and they do things like that to their daughter's boyfriends. I tell myself that she'd do the same thing if he was human.

He doesn't lie to her.

“I don't live any specific place. Some noctali are infatuated with material possessions, but I have no value for most things. I traveled about for many years with nothing more than the clothes on my back.”

She looks up at the sun. “It sounds very romantic. I remember when I was in college my girlfriends and I had planned this trip across Europe. Of course the idea was squashed when my mother found the backpack where I'd stashed some money and my passport.” I didn't know about that.

“Where did you want to go?”

She waves her hand in the air. “Prague, Rome, Vienna.”

Something echoes behind Peter's eyes. I've gotten so good at reading him now. “Lovely places.”

“You've been?”

“I have seen most of the world at one point or another.” No big deal. He had a lot of free time.

“Wow.” She sighs and sits back on her heels. I can't picture my mother doing something like that. The camping, yes, but not the traveling. She and Dad weren't big on it. We'd taken a few family vacations, but she'd never expressed a desire to see Europe. Had I missed something?

“Why didn't you and Dad ever go?” She lets out a breath.

“Oh, things happen. We got married and we were going to do the honeymoon after and then we couldn't afford it and then we had you and it got put on the back burner. Your dreams change when you have children. You'll see.” If things went the way I wanted them to, I wouldn't be having any children. For some reason that makes me sad for just a moment.

“You should go,” Peter says.

“I wish I could.”

Why couldn't she? I'm sure she and Dad had money saved up for a rainy day. Well, it was pouring now.

The front door pops open, making me jump. My eyes fly to the roof, but Peter is already gone.

“What are you looking at?” Dad comes out on the porch and follows Mom's and my gaze to the spot Peter once occupied. Mom's the first to recover.

“Just a strange bird. It's gone now.” She dazzles him with a smile. He squints up at the sky, looking for the “strange bird.” Yeah, you're not going to see it, Dad.

“Are you sure you should be out here? Don't tax yourself.”

“I'm fine. I was just going to come in for a glass of iced tea. I just have to finish up. Okay?” He nods and goes back into the house. Peter's back, as soon as he closes the door.

“What a strange bird you are.”

Blink.

“I must go. If I am going to get a car, I will need to find a place to rent one.” And there's the first lie to my mother. I give him a look, but he ignores me.

He's not renting a car. He's going to borrow one without permission. Or if you're feeling like a pirate, he's going to commandeer one. It's kind of hard to rent a car when you don't have a driver's license or a social security number. But Mom doesn't know that, and I'm not going into it right now.

Mom looks up, as if she's remembered he's there. “We'll see you tonight. You might want to, ah, spruce up a little.” Her eyes rake Peter up and down and I want to slap my head again for not thinking of it myself.

I snap my fingers. “Clothes. You need new clothes. And shoes.”

Mom's eyes light up. “Why don't you take him shopping? Then you can drop him off at the car place.” Brilliant. Unsupervised Peter time where I can molest him with my eyes. And not think about last night and creepy Cal and the six days we have to wait for answers.




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