Chapter 13 Long Live the Queen of Glitter

Chapter 13 Long Live the Queen of Glitter
Butter and sugar clung to my fingers like sin-glue. “I swear, if Zoey glitters the piano again, I’m gonna—”
“—buy a new one and call her creative,” Sasha cut in with a wicked smile. She stood beside me in a plain apron and kitchen gloves, looking like a culinary veteran. “Face it, Bree. That kid could plant a bomb in the living room and Zade would still clap.”
I raised an eyebrow. “She named a worm. You think that’s a healthy brain?”
Sasha shrugged and started scooping dough onto the baking tray. One, two, three perfect balls, like she was genetically engineered for baking. I scoffed and added my own—messier, more chaotic. Definitely more Friday night with wine and regrets.
From the living room came the sound of heavy thuds. Then a shriek of joy.
“DADDYYYY, you’re the DRAGON! You can’t sit! You must ROOOOAAAR!”
I rolled my eyes. “Great. The dragon phase again.”
Sasha laughed under her breath. “Well, better a dragon than... prince charming, right?”
“Prince charming doesn’t pay taxes and definitely ghosted his therapist.” I shoved the tray into the oven, maybe a little too hard. “And Zade looks like he pays his hitman in cash and never blinks.”
Sasha giggled. “And you love it.”
I gave her a flat look. “Shut up.”
Another shout rang out. Zoey this time. “I BANISH YOU FROM MY KINGDOM! No pancakes for ONE HUNDRED YEARS!”
“Your father worked hard for those pancakes!” Zade bellowed back, voice dramatic and low. “Think of the impact on the household economy!”
I leaned against the counter, sipping the hot tea Sasha had just made. The kitchen was warm. The smell of butter and vanilla was beginning to flood the air. But my brain was filtering out the sounds of what could only be described as a preschool LARPing convention in the next room.
“Zoey basically runs this house,” I muttered.
“Correction,” Sasha opened the fridge. “She runs you and Zade. I’m Switzerland.”
“If she glitters the microwave, you're collateral.”
“Damn it.”
We both laughed.
And then—like the universe heard us laughing and wanted to test our patience—Zoey appeared in the doorway. Her pink dress hung sideways. Crown slipping off her head. Cheeks flushed. And in her hand was... a wand wrapped in toilet paper.
“Mommy! Daddy’s cursed! He turned into a statue on the carpet! We need COOKIES to break the spell!”
I blinked at her. “So you’re using food to rescue the victim. That tracks.”
She nodded eagerly. “Can I? Can I? Can I?”
“They’re still hot, Queen of Chaos.”
Zoey let out a dramatic groan and disappeared just as fast. From the other room, I heard Zade grumble something about knees not being built for frozen poses.
Sasha nudged me with her shoulder. “See? You said you didn’t know how to be a mom. Look around.”
I glanced at the second tray and grabbed another spoonful of dough. “Look around, Sa. Toys on the floor. Glitter in the carpet. Husband pretending to be a dragon. I haven’t showered.”
“But your kid is happy. Your husband... well, he’s stupid in love. And you...”
I turned to her.
Sasha smiled. “You’re glowing, Bree. In that ‘I hate everyone but they’re my everyone’ kind of way.”
I shrugged. “Yeah. Maybe. Or maybe it’s just butter steam.”
Our laughter paused when Zoey shrieked again, this time laughing as she dragged Zade’s exhausted voice behind her. I peeked toward the living room through the kitchen window.
And yeah. In the middle of a pillow fort, Zade Solenzara—former king of destruction, a man who could make enemies disappear with a snap of his fingers—was sitting cross-legged on the floor in a paper crown and a purple blanket.
He met my eyes.
And he smiled. Small. A little crooked. Just enough to melt my damn heart like butter on a hot cookie sheet.
I turned away quickly.
Sasha winked. “Caught staring?”
“Shut up. Cookies will be ready in ten.”
///
The oven beeped like a five-star emergency, and I—your resident exhausted chef with the patience of ice cream in July—pulled out the tray in my oven mitts. The scent filled the kitchen: butter, vanilla, and just a hint of victory.
Because yeah, I just baked cookies while raising a chaos demon and being married to a man who once ran a criminal empire and now plays dragon in his downtime.
I set the tray on the cooling rack. Sasha swooped in instantly. “God, this smells like aromatherapy for my damaged inner child.”
“Don’t eat it yet. Your tongue will die.”
She took a bite anyway. “Totally worth it.”
I shook my head and poured the last of the tea into her mug.
Sasha leaned back against the counter, cookie in one hand, mug in the other, looking like she’d just come back from a luxury spa. “I’m gonna head upstairs. That guest room’s calling me louder than my will to live.”
“Take it,” I said. “You earned it. Zoey didn’t glitter-bomb your face today.”
Sasha lifted her cookie like a toast. “Another day survived.”
She strolled away, lazy and content, and I watched her go until she disappeared up the stairs. Then I looked back at the tray of cookies, picked up two, and headed into the living room.
My steps were slow, like a battle-worn soldier walking into a warzone of laughter and cookie crumbs.
And yep, I was right. The living room looked like a castle after a coup.
Pillows everywhere. Blankets turned into flags. Paper crowns scattered like fallen royalty.
And right in the center, the two greatest creatures in my life.
Zoey was sitting on Zade’s back, who was lying flat on the rug like he’d just lost an epic duel. A piece of paper taped to his spine read Beware of the Dragon — in pink tape, no less.
I stood at the doorway, watching my daughter — prince of chaos herself — patting Zade’s head while humming some victory song she’d clearly made up on the spot. The lyrics made no sense. The rhythm was a crime. But she looked... happy.
Zade lifted his head slightly, his eyes locking with mine.
“Don’t say a word,” he whispered. His voice was rough, but there was that tiny smirk at the corner of his mouth. That annoying, stupidly handsome smirk that made my heart do that dumb fluttering thing.
I held up the cookies in my hand. “I come bearing peace negotiations.”
Zoey turned the moment she heard the word cookies. Her eyes widened like a kitten spotting milk for the first time.
“COOKIIIIEEES!”
She leapt off Zade’s back and ran full-speed toward me. I crouched down, handing her one.
“They’re still warm. Don’t hide it under your pillow like last time.”
She pouted. “I was saving it for later.”
“Glitter. Everywhere.”
Zade sat up, leaning against the couch as he rubbed his neck. His shirt — the remains of this morning’s outfit — was a mess. Two buttons undone. His black hair tousled beyond help.
And still... the man looked like a sin wrapped in a perfectly imperfect body.
“I didn’t know a five-year-old could cause this much destruction with tape and crayons,” he muttered, accepting a cookie from me.
I dropped onto the rug beside him, resting against the couch and sipping my tea. “She gets her creative side from me,” I said flatly.
Zade raised a brow. “And what did you use to draw, sweetheart?”
I stared straight ahead. “Back in high school... I designed a tattoo for my friend that said ‘feminist with claws.’”
“She get it inked?”
“... No. Her mom called a priest.”
Zade laughed. Deep and warm. My favorite sound I’d never admit to loving because I still had some self-respect.
Zoey sat beside me, eating her cookie with the kind of serious face only toddlers and philosophers could pull off. Crumbs clung to her cheeks. Her fingers were sticky. But she looked like a child who believed the world was a playground and everyone in it was kind.
I looked at her. Maybe Sasha was right. Maybe I was glowing. Not because of skincare. But because, for the first time in a long, long time... life felt a little peaceful.
A little like it was going somewhere.
Zoey leaned against my arm. “Mommy?”
“Hm?”
“If I had a real kingdom, would you be my Prime Minister?”
I tilted my head. “What does the Prime Minister do?”
“All the tired stuff. All the hard stuff. All the important stuff. All the boring stuff.”
I glanced at Zade. “So... basically my current job?”
Zade raised his cookie. “Long live the queen.”
Zoey smacked my arm with her sticky hand. “Congrats, Mommy. You got promoted.”
Yeah. I did.
And honestly... I didn’t mind one bit.