Chapter 71

Grace

The analysis had come out just fine. Seraphina and Margaret had laughed at me when I got back, embarrassed and smelling a bit like Charles' cologne, but it was in good fun. All that was left were some magical analysis tests to be done for viability and to tweak the supportive documents needed for submission. Having access to my classes online has been one of the greatest helps to keep me from falling behind.

Today, we left the lab relatively early so it could be cleaned properly overnight. Margaret and I got into the same chauffered car, and Seraphina left the building on foot, looking to tour the city. She promised not to cause an uproar, and Margaret laughed, but I had no idea what that meant.

My phone rang with a number from the Mooncrest Police Station.

"Hello?"

"Alpha, we've got several reports of a wandering around downtown, and we're looking for permission to enlist an Enforcer unit to apprehend her."

I groaned as my head started to pound. "Has she done anything wrong?"

"Well, she's scaring people."

"On purpose?"

"She's here! Of course, it's on purpose."

I sighed. "She is a guest of the pack. You can observe her actions at a respectful distance, but not under any circumstances are you to try and arrest her unless she is actually committing a crime."

"But witches are--"

"People," I cut in. "And it's about time Mooncrest got a taste of the real world."

I hung up and shook my head.

"Seraphina's being followed," Margaret said, looking at her phone. "She's getting the urge to fly away."

I snorted. "Please tell her to--wait, can she do that?"

She smiled. "Would you like her to end up on the evening news?"

"No."

Margaret looked a little disappointed at my answer, and I almost laughed. I probably would have if my head wasn't pounding. I could feel the weight of the day pressing down on my shoulders. I hadn't eaten since breakfast, and my energy levels were running on fumes. Soon, The car came to a stop in front of our house, and I couldn't help but let out a sigh of exhaustion. The thought of stepping into the chaos that awaited me filled me with dread and made my headache worse.

Margaret glanced over at me with a mixture of exasperation.

"Would it be terrible to ask you to turn around and take me anywhere but home?" I asked the driver.

Margaret scoffed, and the driver laughed.

"Don't encourage her," Margaret said. "Stop being a baby. You're a mother, and that means doing a whole lot of uncomfortable things."

I grimaced. She was right, and I hated it. Dealing with Jackson was a problem all by itself. The house was still a mess from his impromptu babysitting, let alone all his weird attempts at cooking. I shuddered, thinking back to the sight of the kitchen this morning. Pots and pans had been strewn haphazardly, ingredients had been scattered like confetti, and an aroma hung in the air, becoming more bewildering and stomach-turning by the day from the garbage. Yesterday, I found a small store of instant meals in the pantry, shoved alongside all the ingredients Charles had stocked us with, and I had no idea how to prepare.

The laundry was still piling up downstairs. I think I was on my last few pairs of underwear. I was barely hiding the fact that I'd worn these pants three times already, and I was pretty sure I threw the last clean towel down the chute that morning like an idiot. The house would be the same disaster I had left if it wasn't worse when I got home.

As the car idled and I looked up at the front of my house, I couldn't help but feel a surge of irritation. It was moments like these that made me remember why I had walked away from my scientific career in the first place. The constant juggling act of motherhood, work, and now, school was enough to give anyone a headache.

There was also grief and youthful blindness to blame.

I sighed. "Alright, let's do this."

With a deep breath, I gathered my belongings and stepped out of the car. At the least, I could ignore the chaos of laundry since it was all downstairs. With a little airing out and some Febreeze, I could get to the end of the week on these pants before facing the laundry room. Cecil had something in the closet, and well... Richard had at least one onesie tucked away somewhere, I hoped.

The closer I got, the more I was certain that there was nothing but chaos waiting. After the last time I came home to the sound of pots and pans clanging together in the kitchen and the off scent of something not being quite right in a pot, I knew better than to hope. I rubbed my temples, willing my headache to subside, and steeled myself for the evening ahead.

I bit my lip and opened the door, expecting the worst, but as we entered the house, I was met with a sight that left me utterly stunned.

The house was clean. I mean, spotless. It looked as if someone had spent hours meticulously polishing every surface and waxing the hardwood floors.

Margaret sauntered in as if nothing was amiss, but I couldn't contain my shock.

"Margaret," I began, my voice filled with disbelief, "what in the world happened here?"

She grinned at me mischievously. "I wonder…"

She said nothing more and shrugged out of her coat, heading down the hall as if everything was completely normal.

There was no weird scent in the air. Instead, there was something warm and savory in the air that made my stomach growl. It was something meaty, for sure. I glanced around in disbelief, hardly recognizing the place. I walked out of the foyer, looking into the living room where there had been a disaster zone that morning, to find it perfectly in order. The dining room had been cleaned and cleared. The kitchen was tidy. The oven was on. Something was boiling on the stove, and I saw another loaf of that bread sliced and in a basket.

I grabbed a slice and scarfed it down before peeking into the pot. I had no idea what it was, but I was starving for it. I kept walking, noting the order that had been restored to the playroom. The scent of Jackson, which typically clung heavily in the air, was light as if he were no longer present.

Was this Eason's doing? But I didn't smell him either. My heart sped up as I caught a whiff of that cologne in the air.

Then, I heard it. The sound of Cecil's laughter and Richard's gleeful shrieks. My heart skipped a beat as I hurried towards the source of the joyful commotion.

Turning a corner, I was met with a sight that filled me with wonder and awe. Cecil was climbing the stairs from the basement, her tiny face alight with excitement. In her little hands, she clutched empty laundry detergent jugs, a sense of accomplishment radiating from her like a beacon.

She looked up at me. "Mommy! I helped do laundry!"

"Did you?" I gasped as heavier footsteps followed behind her, and the familiar sound of Richard's cooing babble grew louder. Charles arrived at the top of the stairs, holding a massive basket filled with clean, meticulously folded clothes. Seeing him filled me with warmth and gratitude, and I couldn't help but smile as our eyes met.

He was home. Everything in me relaxed, rejoiced and seemed to come alive. Richard was nestled comfortably in a baby carrier on Charles' back, his wide, innocent eyes taking in the world around him with unabashed curiosity. I could barely breathe at the scene.

"Uncle Charle, is the recycling in the back of the kitchen still?"

"Yes, do you remember which bin?"

She frowned. "The blue one?"

"That's right."

"Yay! I'm going to put them in there." She lifted the empty jugs and rushed off towards the kitchen. I looked after her and turned back as Charles closed the door and slid the child-safe lock into place.

He smiled at me and set the basket down. "Welcome back."

My jaw trembled, and I darted forward, yanking him down until our lips met. He grunted, wrapping his arm around my waist gently as I kissed him passionately, desperately. My heart was overflowing with a profound sense of relief and happiness.

"What a welcome," he whispered, nipping at my lips. "I've missed you, too."

"I'm so glad you're back," I whispered against his lips, my voice filled with gratitude. "By the moon, don't ever stay gone that long again."

Charles chuckled softly, his arms wrapping around me.

"I'm sorry, darling," he murmured, his voice a soothing balm to my weary soul. "I'm here now."

"I owe you... so much." I sighed into his chest, slumping against him. "What's for dinner?"