Page 25 of Perfectly Matching Again

When she finally lifted her eyes from her own laptop, the pages were full of words and she was surprised how perfectly her thoughts translated to prose. She could use this?—

“I still don’t understand where we are going. And almost on Beltane.”

Erato sighed. Then sighed some more. Demeter drummed her fingers on the armrest, waiting by all accounts not very patiently.

“I have an engagement, a professional one.” Erato hurried to add. “And we will make it to Edinburgh in time for Beltane. It’s something I’ve made a previous commitment to and couldn’t get out of on short notice.”

Demeter gave her a curious look before reaching out for her laptop and cursing. Then cursing some more. It was Erato’s turn to wait for answers.

“Floods off the coast of Australia. I guess your little display did anger Poseidon, after all.”

When Demeter finally lifted her eyes, Erato simply raised an eyebrow. Demeter held her gaze for a second, then gave in and tsked.

“Fine, our little display. Not that it mattered to you.”

Erato’s jaw dropped. Not that it mattered? Of course it did?—

“Well, you really could have fooled me this morning, Muse.”

Erato watched her, thoughts chasing each other in her tired, sleepless brain. What did she mean? This morning? All Erato had done was try to get out of the situation with her heart more or less intact and before Demeter realized that she had been slumming it with the Muse of Smut, as Nemesis put it. And thatsaid Muse was head over heels in love with her. Demeter would probably have been nice about it. Kind. Let her down gently… Erato closed her eyes, staving away the pain.

Before she could open her mouth to say exactly that—although how was she to word it in such a way as to not point out that Demeter would surely be ridiculed by everyone on Olympus and regret the public humiliation and the fact that to have bestowed her time and her body on someone as lowly as Erato—the pilot announced their descent into New York.

“A romance convention?”

Demeter’s eyes were huge as they made their way down the labyrinth of hallways and rooms full of women of all ages. Cute dresses and colorful shirts, heavy boots, armfuls of books. Erato knew the sights, the scents and the sounds, and she loved all of them. These were her people, her crowd. A community she rarely indulged or truly reveled in. Readers.

As they finally turned the corner towards the main ballroom where, according to the schedule, the majority of the action was to take place, including Erato’s own speaking engagement, she quickly realized that she should’ve prepared Demeter better for what was to come.

Because there were many things. To come.

First, there was the billboard. You couldn’t even claim it was a poster. It was an immense movie style billboard occupying an entire wall with Erato’s face and her latest book plastered all over it.

Demeter’s step faltered and then she stopped all together, her mouth open, eyes taking in every inch of the image in front of her.

“The book…” Her voice came out strained.

Oh, yeah. There was that second. The book. Erato loved the cover. She had worked very hard with her publisher to ensure it fit the novel, and she thought it was one of her best yet. Cover and book, that was. Clearly the labels of “Instant New York Times Bestseller” along with all the other lists it topped upon release agreed. She took a deep breath and turned towards her companion, her smile sheepish, ready to finally bite the bullet and confess?—

“The woman of the hour! No, scratch that! The woman of the year! Maybe even of the decade! The romance novelist who conquered the world!”

A waif of a creature wrapped herself around Erato and, despite her slight frame, gave her a powerful hug. Said hug lingered and pink lips slanted over hers in a kiss Erato had no interest in participating in.

Demeter’s cough and a sharp pull on the bond liberated her from the willowy clutches.

“Clio.” Erato tried to inconspicuously wipe her mouth. She was a lady. Occasionally. Plus, she liked Clio and embarrassing a fellow muse was not in her habit.

The Muse of History smirked, clearly not the least bit embarrassed, then nodded towards the thread now strung tautly between Erato and Demeter.

“I heard about this. What a delightful occurrence.”

“Only you would consider being tied up to be delightful.” Before Erato could realize what she had said, Clio’s smirk widened.

“See, it is even more delightful that you of all immortals would say this, Erato, and after only a few days of being in this predicament.”

Erato bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from saying something that would surely play into the hands of the wily muse.

Demeter was the one to break the silence.

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