Lucian Divine(52)

I grabbed the jeans, went inside, and marched up to Tracey. “You’re throwing these out?”

“They’re terrible,” she said distractedly while she flipped through a magazine.

“I think they’re great.”

She set the magazine down and looked at me. “You think everything she does is great.”

“That’s not true. I hate when she whines. She also leaves the refrigerator open and the lights on.” I actually didn’t care about any of that. “But these are jeans are great, and you know it. She was willing to put your name on them. What, you have too much pride to let her designs take off? You know they will.”

“They’re just jeans,” she said.

“Fine, then we’ll take them. No sense in throwing out perfectly good denim.”

“It’s my denim, and if I want to throw it out, then I will.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“No.” She returned her focus to the magazine and flipped through the pages again.

“I’ve always been respectful toward you, Tracey—”

“I don’t give a shit.”

Tracey was truly a piece of work. I used to be able to charm women, but I didn’t seem to have that effect on Tracey anymore. Actually, I didn’t seem to have that effect on anyone anymore.

I set the jeans under a folding table and found Evey saying good-bye to Brooklyn outside.

Brooklyn smiled but held up her middle finger at me as she drove away.

“Can you be nice, Lucian?” Evey pleaded.

“I’m trying to be nice to Brooke. Tracey on the other hand, no, I can’t be nice to her. Listen…” I held her shoulders. “Look at me. Look into my eyes.”

She laughed. “What is up with you?”

“Do I look different?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean. Am I less attractive than when you met me?”

Her expression softened; she stopped laughing. “Aside from the fact that you’re thinner and your hair is a little longer, you look exactly the same.” She cupped my face. “You’re ridiculously handsome, Lucian.”

“You’re the only one who thinks so.”

“Are you being vain or insecure? It’s hard to tell.”

I kissed her slowly, softly. I felt her honesty in the kiss, and it didn’t matter what anyone else thought of me.

She whispered, “You’re learning to be human.”

I whispered back, “Tracey is a bitch.”

“We established that a long time ago…

I rested my head on her shoulder. “She tried to throw away your jeans.”

Evey jerked her head back. “Really? Why?”

“I don’t know. Jealous, I guess. Let’s just take them. We’ll get you a place and start your own brand.”

“Our own brand,” she said. “Eves is kind of already taken.”

I laughed. “We’ll think of a name.”

“How about Divine?” .

“It’s perfect.” I kissed her nose. “Let’s go tell Tracey off.”

Evey walked into the warehouse and grabbed her sketchbook, the jeans, and a few other things. Nonchalantly, she said, “Lucian and I quit. This is my stuff, and I’m taking it. Good luck, Tracey.”

Tracey didn’t object, she just said, “Fine. I can find someone better. You can have the jeans. They’re terrible anyway.”

Evey smiled sincerely and said, “Good luck, Tracey.”

Even in the worst situations, Evey had grace. I put my arm around her as we walked out. “You did good,” I told her.

That marked the end of the Tracey era for Evey and me.





TWO MONTHS LATER, I was doing odd jobs to make money, losing more feathers here and there, and feeling less angelic by the day. Meanwhile, Evey carried on as though it wasn’t unusual at all to be married to something that wasn’t human. I didn’t know what I was anymore.

We had saved enough money to float us for a few months until Evey could get her business off the ground. I had to assure her that I had taken the money from really bad people. She wasn’t always convinced, and then I would just remind her that I personally knew Jesus Christ. We would both laugh because it just didn’t seem like that was the reality anymore, even though I knew him in my heart still.

We were cleaning up a loft in the city, getting it ready to become Evey’s workspace. It had taken us a while to find the perfect spot. The loft was a huge high-beamed space with concrete floors and floor-to-ceiling windows that spanned almost the entire side of one block.

“I think we should try to buy this place,” she said while we swept dust into giant mounds. “The neighborhood is being overhauled. It’ll probably be worth millions in a few years.”

I started coughing and tried to clear my throat. I had to stop sweeping to catch my breath; the place was filthy. I felt like we were in over our heads, but she was happy. That was all that mattered. “Let’s look into it.”

“We can convert it to a live/work space,” she said.

“That’s a great idea. We’ll work on it.”

“With a nursery.”

I stopped sweeping and looked up from the floor. Evey had stopped sweeping too. I scanned her from head to toe. She was wearing a timid smile, leaning on the broom.