“Don’t be mad.”
“Persephone,” I say slowly, grabbing patience with both hands. “I can’t promise you that I won’t be mad until you tell me what you’ve done.”
“I, ah, might have mentioned this event at brunch.”
At brunch.
With our mother.
“Tell me you didn’t.”
She’s got that look on her face again, the stubborn one that says I’ll never win this argument. “If anyone can understand political maneuvering, it’s our mother. Give her the benefit of the doubt.”
I stare at her. I stare at her long enough that Persephone has the grace to blush and look guilty. “Give her the benefit of the doubt?” I repeat. “That’s quite the statement coming from you. You know what she did in an attempt to remove you from Hades’s grasp. Do you really think she’ll be any less ruthless when it comes to me?”
“That was a different situation.”
“You keep saying that. I keep not believing you.” I start to reach to twist my hair but stop before I make contact. “She was trying to introduce me to Zeus.”
“What?”
“Even if Mother can appreciate political maneuvering, she had plans for me.” Plans I wasn’t entirely opposed to, even if I wasn’t thrilled about them. “In her eyes, Eros is going to be a downgrade.” The words feel a little like a betrayal, but that doesn’t make sense. If I wasn’t forced into a choice between death and marriage to the man, I never would have consented to his ring on my finger.
Right?
“Psyche, I—”
A knock on the door interrupts us, and it’s just as well. I give her one last glare and turn in that direction. “Yes?”
“We need to talk.”
Eros.
Gods, I hate how my heartbeat picks up just hearing his voice. I move toward the door even as I tell myself to plant my feet. “It’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding.”
“Neither of us is the superstitious type.” He lowers his voice. “Open the door, Psyche.”
I ignore my sister’s huff of displeasure and do exactly that. For a moment, all I can do is stand there and stare like a fool. He’s wearing a tux that highlights his golden skin and blond hair.
I want to tear it off with my teeth.
Holy crap, where did that thought come from?
I’m so shocked at myself that I don’t tense as he steps into the room and slides his arms around my waist. “You look divine.”
“You too.” I sound distant and strange, but I’m fighting so hard to keep my grip on him light and not wrinkle the fabric of his shirt. “What’s going on?”
He smiles at Persephone. Even knowing it’s an act, I can’t help being drawn into his aww-shucks expression. “If I could have a moment alone with my wife?”
“She’s not your wife yet.”
Eros stares at my sister for a moment. “You’re protective of her. I understand, but—”
“Do you understand?” Persephone draws herself up. She’s never looked more like a queen than she does in this moment. More like our mother. “You don’t have siblings, Eros. I’m not even sure you have friends. Do you really understand what it’s like to care about someone so much, you’ll burn the city down if they’re hurt?”
“That’s enough.” They both look at me, and it’s everything I can do to keep my voice even. My sister isn’t wrong to be protective of me, but if this was a real relationship, I would never let her talk to my partner like that. “That’s enough,” I repeat.
“I just want you happy.”
“Then support me in this.”
She hesitates for so long, I think she might continue arguing, but finally Persephone squeezes my shoulder and moves past us out of the room.
Eros releases me once the door is shut, and even then it seems reluctant. At least he drops the happy groom act. “Your sister doesn’t like me.”
“Are you really surprised?”
“No.” He gives himself a little shake and refocuses. “I co-opted a room downstairs. It’s normally used for… Well, I honestly don’t know what it’s used for, but it’s ours for the wedding ceremony.”
“Okay.” He didn’t need to kick my sister out in order to tell me that. “What else?”
“My mother called.” He says it so neutrally, I half think I misheard.
I jerk back a step. “What? I thought you said she was still at the spa.”
“Apparently some well-meaning soul managed to get in contact with her. She’s too far away to stop it, but she knows.” His mouth twists. “She left a colorful voicemail.”
“Let me hear it.”
He shakes his head. “That’s not necessary.”
“I don’t care if it’s necessary or not, Eros. Either we’re full partners in this charade or we’re not and there’s no point in getting married.” I make myself hold his gaze. “Let me hear the voicemail.”
For a long moment, I think he’ll keep arguing, but he finally sighs and pulls out his phone. “It’s not pretty.”