My Cheating Mate (Emma and Jeremy) novel Chapter 174

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Chapter 174

The kitchen was absolutely silent.

Then Emma made a sound–half laugh, half sob. “They want informatiofr about the horse architecture.”

“Aldric.” Cas’s voice was barely above a whisper. “He’s asking about Grace’s block stable.”

“Five years,” my father said carefully. “It’s not victory,”

“No,” Cas agreed. “But it’s not defeat either. It’s-” He paused. “It’s an eleven–hundred–year–old vampire asking a five–year- old girl to explain her architectural decisions. Through diplomatic channels.”

“The three who voted against will keep working against us,” Marcus said. “Informally if not officially. We can’t assume the ceasefire means safety.”

“We never assumed safety.” Emma looked at the letter. “But five years. Five years without active Council operations against us. Five years for Grace to just–be Grace. To grow up a little without this hanging over every birthday and famïry dinner.”

“Five years to prove the model works,” I said. “To show them the data they claim to want. To keep building the coalition. To give Aldric enough time to finish reconsidering eleven centuries of positions.”

“He’ll get there.” Cas was looking at Grace, who had abandoned her blocks and was now making her way across the room toward him with the determined stride of a five–year–old who had decided she was done waiting patiently. “He just needs the right evidence.”

Grace reached Cas and climbed into his lap without invitation–a privilege she exercised constantly and he had never once denied. She looked up at him with those enormous brown eyes.

“Was it good news?” she asked. “You all look like when something is good but also complicated.”

“It was good news,” he said. “Complicated good news.”

“Does complicated good news mean I can ask for ice cream?”

Emma laughed–the real kind, the released tension kind. “Yes, Grace. Complicated good news absolutely means ice cream.”

“I want the kind with sprinkles.” She settled against Cas’s chest with complete satisfaction. “Uncle Cas, the letter was about me, wasn’t it? About whether the bad people were going to stop being bad.”

“Partly.”

“Are they stopping?”

“For now. They’re going to watch and see.” He wrapped an arm around her carefully. “Some of them are starting to understand that what we have here is–worth watching.”

“Of course it is.” She said it with total certainty. “We’re a family. Families are always worth watching.” She paused, thinking with the focus she brought to everything. “Uncle Cas, one of the bad people asked about my horse stable?”

“He did. Indirectly.”

“Then he’s not completely bad.” Her logic was simple and absolute. “People who care about horses can’t be completely bad.”

“I’ll relay that assessment to him.”

“You should. It might help him decide.” She yawned. “Can we have ice cream now? And then can you help me add a second story to the stable? I’ve been thinking horses might need an upstairs.”

“I wasn’t aware horses used stairs.”

“These are very advanced horses.”

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“un by all means. A secofid story is clearly necessary,”

I watched my family in the aftermath of fire Council’s letter. Emilia already on the phone with allied packs and covens sharing the ceasefire news. My father and Marcus beginning, the necessary conversations about maintaining security despite the reprieve. Victoria coordinating with Nightshade coven.

And Cas–my friend, my ally, the vampire lord who was going to help a five–year–old build a two–story horse stable this afternoon–sitting in the kitchen of the family he’d found by accident, hording my daughter with the careful reverence of someone who understood exactly what they’d almost fost

Five years. We had five years of relative peace. Five years to build the world we’d been fighting for. Five years for Grace to just be Grace–block stables and sparkly markers and explaining horse architecture to vampire councils through diplomatic channels.

Five years to prove that the family we’d built–the complicated, impossible, shouldn’t–exist–according to eight–hundred- years–of–tradition family–was worth keeping.

It wouldn’t be easy. The three dissenting Council members would keep working against us. New threats would emerge. The work of building integrated supernatural communities was long and difficult and would outlast all of us.

But today, Grace wanted ice cream with sprinkles and a two–story horse stable.

And that was enough. More than enough.

It was everything.

“Come on,” I said, standing. “Ice cream first. Then architecture.”

“With sprinkles,” Grace reminded me firmly.

“With sprinkles,” I confirmed.

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