Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 132933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 665(@200wpm)___ 532(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 665(@200wpm)___ 532(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
I stand up. “You want this?” I ask Farrow’s son.
He nods vigorously.
I grab the handle. Pretending it weighs a million pounds, I grimace and struggle to pick the thing up. “Holy…” I try to pry it off the ground and then fall flat on my back.
Ripley giggles, smiling over at his papa again.
“Old Thor, Old Thor,” I call out for help.
“Why the hell am I dubbed Old Thor?” Oscar contests. “My baby bro is the one who copied my costume. I’m Original Thor. He’s Knockoff Thor.”
“Old Thor,” I reach out a hand.
He glares.
Farrow laughs harder.
Quinn is just as pissed Oscar is dressed as Thor. Oscar being disgruntled about the whole thing has been making my night and Farrow’s. We both couldn’t stop laughing earlier.
Ripley suddenly hops off Farrow’s lap. The little purple dragon wobbles over to me, and I back up some and let him curl his tiny hand around the handle.
He can’t pick it up, but he drags the hammer with a delighted laugh. Something rises in my chest, and I’m glad when Maximoff comes into the parlor and Ripley notices him.
“Dada!” Ripley squeals in glee, trying to show him the hammer.
“What do you have there, little guy?” Maximoff picks up his son, the hammer tucked to Ripley’s chest.
Oscar is snapping pics of them on his phone. “Isn’t that the cutest shit you’ve ever seen?”
Farrow looks like he’s engraining it in his head for eternity, his smile stretched wide.
“My thirst traps are pretty cute,” I put out there.
They all laugh, and Farrow asks Oscar to air-drop him the pics. Multiple phones ping, including mine, so he air-dropped them to all of us.
I stare at the baby a little longer than I usually do. My smile has slowly waned. The older he gets, the more I see me in him. His eyes are my exact shade of blue.
But he’s not me. He’ll never be me.
He’s a Donnelly that got out.
“I’m having trouble finding Vada,” I hear Maximoff tell Farrow. “My mom wanted pictures of Vada and Rip together.”
Vada Abbey. His cousin. She’s dressed as Kate Pryde. I know this thanks to Loren Hale’s Costume List that was sitting on the kitchen counter. Maximoff printed his copy. Had little notes in the margin.
Lockheed the Dragon is Kate Pryde’s companion in the comics. I’ve started reading some X-Men stuff, along with Star Wars. For Luna, mostly, but I haven’t told her. When she drops pop culture lingo, I just want to understand it more. So I’ve been asking Illyana for reading recommendations.
After Farrow tries to locate Vada through comms with no success, I nod to them. “I can help look for her.” I’m already standing and leaving the champagne flute behind.
“That’d be awesome. Thanks, Donnelly,” Maximoff says with sincerity. He’s such a good person, and I couldn’t have even picked someone better for Farrow. It’s such a perfect match that it started making me believe in soul mates.
Oscar finding Jack nearly solidified that.
That there is someone out there meant for you.
Meant for me.
In my search for Vada, I pass a room decorated in cobwebs and velvet. Tom and Eliot are leaning out the window, vaping and chatting. Right as they turn, sensing a presence, I slip out of sight.
They can’t know I have feelings for Luna. And I’m doubting they know Luna has any feelings towards me. I imagine they’d be hounding me about it. But they’re not.
So yeah, either she hasn’t told ‘em a thing, or she has no feelings for me.
She has no feelings for me. That doesn’t seem right, but if I make myself believe it, then maybe I can let her go.
Who are you fooling, Paul?
I check my phone. No new messages, not good signal either, but I remember the text my cousin sent a few days ago.
Don’t forget the deadline. Halloween. Get us the painting. – Colin Donnelly
I didn’t respond. If he’s not bluffing, I don’t know how he plans to plant drugs on me. I’m nowhere he can reach, and the building where I live has 24/7 security.
I push that away and move on.
I find myself in the main ballroom. Walls a deep red. Velvet fabric threaded with gold hangs like tapestries along each side, partitioning teacarts of cookies, cupcake stands, and a bar from the crowded dance floor. First round of confetti has already fallen and dusts the floorboards where feet move to old tunes. With candlelight and chandeliers and superheroes, it’s as magical as I’m assuming Lo hoped it’d be.
On the outskirts of the dance floor, I’m weaving between people.
And I see Luna.
My pulse skips.
Her hair is sprayed with dark green paint, jewels stuck in the strands like stars, and her minty green dress shimmers even beneath the candlelight. Her round cheeks sparkle with glitter.
I try to look forward, but my eyes are superglued to Luna.