“And is – is his face all bruised?” Ariel asks, looking closer at a rare picture in which he’s not wearing sunglasses. “Do we have any idea where that came from?”
“We don’t,” Ella sighs, looking steadily at her daughter, watching her reaction. “But I don’t have to make a ton of guesses, considering your line of supporters who would leap at the chance to give him a good punch.”
“And why is he all…wet all the time?” Ariel asks, frowning, leaning closer. “No one else is…”
“That…might be me,” Cora says, quite innocent.
The other three go silent and then turn to her, shocked.
“What, I’m your godmother,” she says, shrugging, fighting a smug smile. “If you didn’t want me to have a tiny rain cloud chasing your douchebag ex around the city wherever he goes, you should have said so in the first place.”
Ariel lets out a sputtering little laugh as Ella and Daphne look at her anxiously. But when Ariel’s shock fades and it turns into real, true laughter, everyone joins in to the point where they’re all wiping tears from their cheeks, leaning against each other for support.
“Cora,” Ariel laughs, hugging her aunt and resting her head on her shoulder. “Please take it away – it’s so mean –“
“No way,” Cora sighs, pressing a kiss to her niece’s head. “He gets at least a few more days of that. Luca pissed off the wrong girl’s family – he’s paying for it -”
“All right,” Ariel sighs. “But no lightening.”
“No more lightening, you mean,” Cora coos, grinning.
“What!?”
“Oh, come on,” she sighs. “I had to zap his ass a few times to send a message. Don’t mess with the Sinclairs – we’ll make your life miserable.”
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