Foxglove

As Blythe raised her mallet back, it swung from her grip and struck Fate between the legs.

“You are my world, Signa Farrow.”

Blythe realized what was happening the second before he kissed her.

“On the contrary, I believe I’ve just fulfilled an oath. Are you not proud of your wife’s cleverness?”

Fate’s nostrils flared. “You are not my wife.”

“Don’t worry, darling.” Blythe laid a kiss upon his cheek, leaving a press of rouge. “You’ll have the rest of your life to make it up to me.”

It was official, then. They were engaged.

“Tell her that I miss her.”

“My tapestries do not lie.”

From the way Fate drew back, one might think she’d struck the man across the face. The gold in his eyes burned molten, and behind him all of Wisteria quivered.

“I’m not who you think I am, but I’ll help you look for her. We can find Life together.”