Boundary Crossed (Boundary Magic #1)(68)
A flare of discomfort crossed Quinn’s face. “It’s okay. I can make this really easy,” I reassured him. Without checking behind me, I banged the door wide open—exposing the four of them, who were huddled in the hallway. “Cousins, this is Quinn. Quinn, some of my cousins.” Before any of them could speak, I grabbed my peep-toe heels and my silver clutch from the hall table, stepped across the threshold, and swung the door shut behind me. “Shall we?” I asked innocently.
Quinn grinned at me.
Chapter 30
My parents, both CU graduates, had a thing about the Glenn Miller Ballroom, which is located in the University Memorial Center on campus. They’d been holding major events there for years: most of the cousins, including Sam, had had their wedding receptions in that room. My parents had hosted a big thirtieth-anniversary bash there a few years back, and before I managed to talk them out of it, Mom had even wanted to host a welcome-back reception for me there when I got out of the service. With one thing and another, I’d been coming to this specific venue for most of my life.
But I’d never seen it look like this.
Through a combination of lighting and decor, the whole room seemed to be done in warm fall tones, which perfectly complemented the harvest-red centerpieces. The centerpieces, in turn, perfectly matched the cummerbunds on the members of the seven-piece orchestra that was playing on the short raised stage. Starlight gleamed faintly through the skylights, and the whole effect was magical, like we’d walked into an autumn garden party for fairies. Quinn whistled. “You gotta hand it to my mom,” I observed as Quinn and I stepped into the enormous room. For the first time in my life, I was almost glad to be wearing heels—the shoes put a different kind of pressure on my feet, keeping my weight off the worst of the cuts. “She knows how to throw a shindig.”
Quinn gave me a sidelong look. “Shindig?”
“Hootenanny?”
The corners of his lips turned up. “I’d lean more toward ‘soiree.’”
“Nah, that’s playing right into her hand,” I said, but fondly. I pointed left, to where my parents were standing in a loose receiving line. “Come on, let’s get introductions over with.”
We joined the line, where several of my parents’ friends and extended family members were already waiting. I started introducing Quinn around as my friend from softball, which everyone seemed to accept, although my Aunt Violet and my cousin Paul both sent me knowing winks, like “friend from softball” was some dirty sex position. Which, I supposed, was possible.
We got to the front of the line, and my mom waved us over. She was wearing a sparkly gold dress with a jewel-cut collar, looking radiant and a little self-satisfied as she basked in the glow of the party’s success, whispering occasional comments in my dad’s ear. My father is not a particularly handsome man, especially because he refuses to lose the short white ponytail that’s the last vestige of his hippie childhood, but he certainly looked dashing in his tuxedo. He had a particular stoic expression I recognized from my high school graduation and Sam’s wedding photos. It meant “I’m playing it cool, but secretly I am doing a proud happy dance.”
I smiled and kissed his cheek. “Happy birthday, Dad,” I said, then turned to gesture at Quinn. “This is my friend Quinn. Quinn, these are my parents, Christy and Richard Luther.”
Quinn extended a hand, which my dad shook heartily. “Nice to meet you, sir,” Quinn said politely. To my mother, he added, “This is a beautiful party, ma’am.”
“You’re so sweet,” my mother responded, beaming. She touched the back of her hair. “I hope you two are having a good time.”
Quinn assured her that we were, and she leaned forward to ask him a question about what he did for a living. While she was distracted, I leaned forward and said conspiratorially to my dad, “How are you holding up?”
He grinned at me. “Your mother went way overboard, you know,” he said in a voice that was fighting not to sound exuberant. “It’s just a birthday. I don’t need all”—he gestured helplessly at his tux, the ballroom, the decorations—“this trouble.”
“You deserve it though, Dad,” I said, pecking his cheek again. “I’m so proud of you.”
And I was. A decade before Sam and I were born, my dad and his brother had started designing vegan shoes as a sort of hobby. Nobody was more surprised than they were when the business took off. Now you could buy a pair of Luther Shoes in Paraguay.
“I’m proud of you too, baby,” my dad said, lifting his arm to give me a one-sided dad hug. He glanced at Quinn. “Glad you’re doing better.”
Quinn and I moved on, letting the flow of people lead us toward the dance floor. I was thinking about my dad’s words. Was I doing better? I was a frickin’ witch. I had access to magic that no one should be able to touch.
Without looking at me, Quinn took my hand and tucked it into his arm. I smiled faintly. At the same time, it was nice to have purpose again, even if that purpose went no deeper than turning myself into a valuable asset so I could do scut work for a vampire. Maybe Quinn and I wouldn’t be able to find the person behind Charlie’s kidnapping, but I would keep training with the Pellars. I would learn a couple of really solid defensive spells, like Lily had suggested. And I would protect Sam’s daughter, whatever it cost me personally. I set my jaw.