The Struggles of Marrying a Demon {Completed}

Reconciliation

"Mabel, I swear to God if you don't quit it with this 'oh, I just vanished and you might have thought I was dead but I'm back and fine' crap, I will shoot you myself!" Lucy snarled several days later, her fingers tapping an erratic rhythm on the tabletop.

Mabel winced at the tirade. She knew this would happen, but she'd foolishly thought that, by bringing Lucy to the woman's favorite coffeehouse, she would have been able to distract the police officer with a mocha latte.

She should have known it wouldn't work.

"Luce, I'm so sorry." Mabel leaned forward, snatching up Lucy's twitching hands and squeezing gently, her gauze-covered arms hidden by the sleeves of her loose blouse. "But we both know I couldn't leave Aleron alone. I was so worried, Lucy." She'd been sticking with the only cover story that made sense: after Aleron's location was discovered, Mabel had been called in to his 'classified' company, as they weren't sure what his mental state would be after the extraction. He was supposedly kidnapped, after all.

Lucy huffed, but Mabel could tell her best friend's armor was slowly crumbling. "Fine," Lucy stated curtly, though she squeezed Mabel's hands in return, "But your fiancé's lucky I like him." The woman's eyes suddenly shifted to something over Mabel's shoulder, and she stiffened. "Mabel," she ground out, her green eyes flashing angrily, "please tell me that's not the bitch I think it is."

Mabel sighed heavily, already aware of who was walking to their table. After returning, Mabel had gotten in touch with both Lucy and Kellan, only to discover that her two best friends still hadn't made up. In fact, according to Jake, the fighting had only gotten worse, as they were blaming one another for not keeping up with Mabel.

Something had to be done, so Mabel did what she did best: she stuck her nose where it didn't necessarily belong and prayed that she wouldn't die as a result.

"Lucy," her words were careful, but her eyes were stern, "This cannot go on any longer. No guns, and no yelling. Talk it out."

Lucy slumped back in her seat, pouting like a small child who'd been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. A moment later, Kellan appeared over the table, a scowl on her face, but looking far less vicious than Lucy. "Hello, Lucilla," she greeted coolly, taking a seat next to Mabel, "A pleasure to see you." She shot Mabel a look that clearly said, You absolute sneak—I'll get you back for this, and placed her hands neatly over her lap.

Mabel held back a breath of relief. At least she would be getting the overly polite Kellan, instead of the cursing, angry Kellan that had been at the park the last time she'd tried this intervention.

"Oh, I'm sure," Lucy snarked in reply. "I would return the sentiment, but I'm only pleased to see actual friends—not cowards who move away without warning."

Oh, for the love of herb gardens.

Kellan's mouth twisted into a sneer, and she sassed something in reply, but Mabel was no longer listening. She'd almost died, again, and the last thing she needed was to come back home to this complete and utter crap-fest.

"That's it!" she burst, slamming one hand down on the table (she barely managed to hold back a wince when her arm protested) and pointing between the two women with her other. "This has to stop! I almost lost Aleron, and I am not losing my two best friends just because you're being so . . . so . . . stupid!" And then, because her anger was somehow directly wired to her tear ducts, Mabel burst into tears, the rest of her speech muffled when she placed her face in her hands. "I want to get married, and I want you both to be there, and I can't stand all the fighting, and I'm just so pissed, and—"

Her tirade was stopped when a familiar growl rumbled through the vicinity.

"Uh, Mabel," Kellan squeaked, "your fiancé is here, and he really doesn't look happy."