ROWAN
It was only midnight, and yet, it'd already been a long night.
"I don't suppose you have any words of encouragement, Brammy?" I asked, looking to his usual perch in his cat tree, only to see that he had vanished during the two or three arduous hours that I'd been stuck staring at my computer screens.
I never thought sending emails could be a soul-draining experience; after all, it was usually such a relatively quick affair. But if there was one thing wedding planning had taught me, it was that even the most simple of actions could turn into an exercise in drudgery, and dare I say, torture.
Okay, mildly hyperbolic, but it didn't really feel that way considering all the issues we were having.
While there were still three months to our late-spring wedding, a sudden issue with an instrumental order, a caterer realizing they'd double-booked themselves, and our bakery calling us to tell us someone had tried to pose as us to cancel our order (no doubt Celestia still pouting like the baby she was.
We were going on three years since she'd been ejected from the first mixer!) had us scrambling a bit more than we wanted to.
Naturally, we created a password with all of our vendors after that.
And it wasn't like the entire ordeal had been a cakewalk up to that point.
While the vampire blood dealers and brewers had been simple enough to set up and actually quite excited for the event, that was about it.
With everything else, it had been surprisingly difficult to get anyone to agree to a contract for an evening wedding—even the magical caterers we were referred to by our ever-growing network of friends and acquaintances.
So, the few vampires I invited would be more than able to gorge themselves, but not anyone else who needed solid food.
Obviously, not an option. Naomi and my wedding was a testament to our love, but it was also a party, and if we were going to throw one, it was going to be a Party with a capital P. Which meant no one going hungry.
Five minute break, I told myself when the urge to throw my computer was becoming a bit too strong to resist. Although I generally liked to think of myself as a calm man, something about technology and the tedium of going back and forth with someone I was trying to give my money to and seemed obstinately against making it work made me want to destroy things or tear down the moon.
Wait, Naomi loved the moon, even if she couldn't shift.
The moon could stay. But it was on thin ice.
Picking up my phone, I saw I had a handful of texts that I'd been too busy to reply to.
Normally, I would spend the very last minutes of twilight still in my bed answering anyone who messaged me during the day so I could start my night off with a clean slate.
But once I saw the email about an issue with the particular instruments I'd ordered to play our first song to Naomi, everything else had been forgotten.
Would it be the end of the world if I didn't get the traditional things I wanted? No. But Naomi had continued to share in my passion for music, and actually developed a special interest in ancient, cultural instrumentals.
She really was so perfect, in so many ways.
Which was why I had a dog now.
Well, Naomi had a dog, and Naomi now lived with me, ergo, I had a dog. Although, when I really broke it down, Brahmagupta had a dog, because my orange cat had decided that the yorkie-mix Naomi had rescued was the strangest, most inept kitten he'd ever met and had immediately adopted him.
Which was no doubt why my friend wasn't in his tree.
Considering the time, he was probably bathing Elle', which was a nickname on a nickname considering her full, legal moniker was Lil Low Rider.
We'd tried calling her LLR for a bit, but it was a mouthful and she really was a girlie girl in the end, so Elle it had become.
And if I was being frank, I loved the pup. Never thought I'd be the type considering day walks weren't exactly my specialty, but it turned out that between Naomi and I, we managed quite well.
Kno ur busy, but wanna get drinks this week?
That was Orthallow, who often texted exactly how one would expect a New Jersey Vampire turned during the run of Jersey Shore to text.
Me: That sounds good. Honestly, I'm tempted to right now with how this night is going.
Orthallow: That bad, huh?
Me: Excruciating.
Orthallow: I gotcha. Can't tonite. Tomorrow?
Me: It's a plan.
Orthallow: Tnx! C u then!
I smiled at my phone. I never would have thought Orthallow and I would be texting on the regular, but he'd actually turned into a good friend.
He still had his prickly bits, and sometimes I could tell that being on the outs with the coven ate at him, but for the most part, he really enjoyed the circle of friends he'd built up using our mixers and app.
And in a surprise I never saw coming, he and Iko became chess buddies.
While I knew how to play the game, it had never been a real enjoyment for me.
Orthallow was good at the game, and he played blindfolded and learned to use Iko's accessible chessboard.
If that wasn't rad as hell, I didn't know what was.
The next text message I opened, however, gave me pause. It was from Naomi's youngest brother, and while it wasn't unheard of for him and I to talk, it wasn't exactly the norm either.
Mason: Hey, know this is kind of crazy, but Maverick asked me n Reggie if he could talk with you. Wants to clear some things. I think apologize?
I stared at that almost as long as I'd been staring at my email.
While I'd loved watching Reggie change his tune and become extremely close with his sister, and enjoyed her and Mason slowly healing things, the one stalwart in their hatred and behavior had been Maverick.
From what I understood with how little Naomi wanted to talk about it, they were cordial during family events and texted each other on birthdays and important dates, but that was pretty much it.
There was no love lost. So, hearing he wanted to talk to me a few months before our wedding?
I wasn't quite so sure about that.
But if anything, the past few years had taught me that anyone could grow or change, so I wasn't adamantly against it.
I thought for a few more moments before typing a response back.
Me: Sorry for the late reply! I am open to meeting with Maverick, but before anything like that happens, I would need him to be in contact with Naomi and apologize for his actions. I don't like the idea of sneaking behind her back, even if it's well intended.
There. That was fairly diplomatic, and I did mean it. Although I was open to forgiving Maverick, I didn't really feel like his shit was mine to forgive. Naomi was the one he'd hurt, basically tormented, for most of her life, so it was her decision. And I would stand by whatever she decided.
There was one more text message, this one from Carolina.
Carolina: Hey, I know you're super busy and we've got plenty of time, but I wanted to just check birthday presents for Iko so we don't double up again.
Ah, Carolina, the harpy who had come farther than any of her flock ever thought she could.
Not only did she have her OCD and agoraphobia managed for the most part, but her panic attacks were also few and far between.
Between her coping mechanisms, therapy, medication, and her support system, she was feeling safer than she ever had in her whole life.
Although I was willing to bet those prosthetic wings of hers helped a whole lot.
She couldn't fly with them yet, but having the right balance for her spine was doing wonders for a lot of her chronic pain and mobility issues.
I hated that it had taken so long for her to get a doctor, witch, and technopath to craft a set for her.
They were ridiculously expensive, but thankfully, Mis-Matched was doing well enough that we were able to sponsor her and make sure she got the best pair of prosthetic wings that existed. No Icarus experience for her.
Me: Sounds great. I can probably have a list whipped up next week or so?
I didn't expect an answer, as Carolina's sleep schedule was still unpredictable, but before I even put my phone down, her reply popped up on the screen.
Carolina: So soon! Are you sure? I know you're hella busy.
Me: I'm sure. I've had some things in mind all year.
Carolina: That's perf then. Thank you bunches! XOXO
Me: No problem.
There, all of my text messages, which had become my main form of socialization lately, were answered. I'd set up a friend date and was putting polish on plans for Iko's hundredth birthday. Not bad for someone who wanted to pull their hair out over planning what was supposed to be a joyous occasion.
Now back to work.
I managed another half hour or so, most of that spent on call with our three blood and bloodwine suppliers to make sure everything was copacetic, before my blood began to boil again. Not that I had blood, but the metaphor still stood.
Thankfully, before any thermodynamic reaction could happen, a warm hand gently alighted on my shoulder.
"Hey there, handsome," Naomi's voice murmured gently from behind me. "Thought you might want this."
A glass of bloodwine appeared on my other side, and I gratefully took it.
"You are more right than you know."
"I had a feeling. Especially when I woke up from my nap and could practically smell your stress in the air."
"I didn't wake you up, did I?"
Although my love usually only napped during her cycle, she'd had a headache that her healing abilities weren't helping for.
While usually such snoozes were only an hour or two, she'd been knocked out for around at least three hours, so she must have been quite tired.
That was my hard-working woman, all right.
"No, I've been up for a bit. I was just arranging stuff."
"Stuff?"
"Oh yeah, ya know. Stuff. Things. Whatchamacallits."