I wake at the sound of a drawer closing and the light click of ceramic on wood. I sniff the air and smile, opening my eyes to see a lovely cup of coffee just inches from my face. “Oohhh,” I say, pleased and sitting up. I smile up at Victor, standing next to the bed. “And to what do I owe this grea
“Yeah,” I sigh, handing the phone back to him. “She’s doing this to get at you.” He gives me a little derisive look, as if my methods for drawing this conclusion are ridiculous, but then he takes a second look at the images and shrugs a little. I smirk, pleased he sees my point. “Well?” I ask. “
Alvin gasps as Victor slows the car down, pulling up to their destination. “I know where we are!” he cries, pressing his hands eagerly to the car door and bringing his face close to the window. “You do?” Victor asks, frowning at his son in the rear view mirror. “Yeah!” Alvin replies, nodding eager
“You too,” Victor says fondly, meaning it. Working with the Betas hadn’t been the same since Edgar left. Victor looks hesitatingly at Alvin for a second, but Mark steps in. “The tyke can stay with me,” Mark says fondly, ruffling the kid’s hair, “if that’s helpful.” “Really?” Victor asks, pleased a
Ian and I are sitting at the kitchen table that morning, going through some of the books that his tutor sent for he and Alvin to explore this upcoming week. “I hate these books,” Ian grumbles, pushing them away from him and frowning petulantly at the pile. “What?!” I cry, genuinely surprised. “Wha
I roll my eyes a little, smirking at him and turning my attention back to Bridgette. “So, did you two…decide anything?” “No,” she says, sighing and looking down at her coffee. “It’s just so…complicated. I mean, I want to be with him – I think…I think that I love him, but…” “But…” I prompt, eager.
Victor comes home late that night, looking exhausted. Alvin, however, is invigorated, running through the house shouting for Ian, eager to tell him all about his day. “Hello, you,” I murmur, as Victor comes over to my spot on the couch and leans down to give me a kiss. “Hello,” he replies after ou
“OH no!” Ian cries, throwing his hands up as well. Alvin dashes to his dad, taking the lapels of his suit in his hands and giving him a worried little sake. “Yes,” I say, gravely. “He has been poisoned with a sleepy potion, and he’s so tired, and he can’t possibly be urged to move.” I watch Victor