I nodded slowly, understanding that what he meant by here was not a place so much as a purpose. “You know, you might not have become a doctor, but you are that person.”
His brows knitted in confusion.
“That random person in the crowd who can step in and save someone’s life,” I explained, finding myself leaning toward him. “You’ve done that before. Probably more times than you can count. You’re not a doctor, but you are that person.”
Zayne stared at me for so long that I started to worry I’d said the wrong thing.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“Always,” he murmured, and then he caught that lower lip of his again. “I just never looked at it that way.”
“Look at me.” I smiled. “Being all useful and stuff, showing you a whole new way of thinking.”
“You’re always helpful.” Thick lashes lifted, and I felt pierced to the core by his stare. “And you’ve already been showing me a new way of thinking.”
I opened my mouth, to say what, I had no idea, but Zayne shifted topics. “Been thinking about our living arrangements these last couple of days,” he said. “We can’t stay there, at least not in that apartment. We need something with two bedrooms, two baths. That’s one of the things I was taking care of today. Met with the property manager to see if they have anything open.”
Looking for a bigger place made sense. Zayne couldn’t keep sleeping on the couch, and while the morning schedule was working, it still was a bit of a pain. But I was weirdly caught off guard, because he hadn’t broached the idea with me.
He ran a finger along the base of the candle. “The rental contracts at the building are month to month, so if we move, we’re not stuck.”
I was nodding, because that also made sense. He and I, as long as I lived and so did he, were a permanent thing. A forever thing. And it was smart and safer for us to live together. That was why Misha and I had lived in the same house back in the Community.
I had no idea why I was acting as if he was speaking a language I didn’t understand.
Giving my head a good shake, I was relieved to find common sense had returned to me. “Is there a place open?”
“There are two, but one needs extensive remodeling, and that concerns me considering the building is new. Who knows what the previous tenant did to the place.”
Immediately my mind went to a murder scene that required biohazard cleanup...which was a sure indication there was something wrong with me. “What about the other place?”
“It’s currently under contingency, but the people haven’t signed the lease yet, so maybe they’ll back out. If they do, it’s ours.”
“Ours?” I let out a nervous laugh. “Then that means I want to help with rent. I have money now.” I paused, still seeing the zeros and not quite believing it. “I need to pay my way.”
“If that’s what you want, that’s what we’ll do.”
I smiled and nodded again, no longer feeling like a total freeloader. But then something else occurred to me, and my smile faded. I thought about what he’d said the night before, about how his apartment was just a place to rest his head. “You’re really not planning to move back in with your clan, ever?”
Zayne shook his head. “No.”
“Is it because of me and the bond?”
“The moment I moved out, I knew I wasn’t coming back. Who I was when I lived there, within those walls, under that roof and with my clan?” he said. “I’m not him anymore, and that has nothing to do with being your Protector.”
I mulled that over. “Because of your father and...and what happened with Layla?”
“Yeah, because of that, but there are also too many things I don’t agree with to be a part of them like I was before. And they know that. Many of them don’t trust me anymore, and obviously, I don’t trust a lot of them, either. Me leaving was the best answer.”
He was talking about his stance on demons. I could see how that would drive a major wedge between him and the other Wardens, even though Nicolai seemed more open-minded.
Well, Nicolai didn’t spit and do the sign of the Holy Cross when Roth’s name was brought up. Not sure if that meant he had a different stance on demons.
I also knew, beyond a doubt, that even though Zayne had basically ostracized himself from the clan and had done so the moment he’d stood with Roth and Layla, he’d still have any of those Wardens’ backs.
Dolly Daisy the waitress returned with the check. Her body angled toward Zayne, her back to me as she propped a hip against the table.
I made a face at Zayne that he either didn’t see or ignored.
“Take as long as you want.” She placed the bill folder on the table, which Zayne grabbed immediately, opening it. “And if you need anything, you just let me know. I’ll be happy to help you.”
Zayne saw it the moment I did. Even I couldn’t mistake what rested on the bill. A card with a number written on it in large bubbly handwriting, next to a name I couldn’t read. The only thing missing was the imprint of her never-fading bright red lips.
Holy flying gargoyles everywhere, I couldn’t believe what I’d witnessed.
The waitress just gave him her number in front of me! For a moment I was simply stunned, and I wanted to laugh, except I was—well, I was offended. Granted, this woman might be old enough to have legit birthed me, but she looked damn good for her age, and from what I could tell of her makeup, it was on point. The grown-ass woman was a stunner, but even if she thought I was yesterday’s trash, that was a bold move.
I reacted without thinking—without waiting to see what Zayne’s response would be. Impulsivity, as per usual, got the best of me.
“Hi,” I said loudly. “Daisy? Dolly?”
The woman turned to me, eyebrow raised quizzically. “My name is Debbie, sweetie. Did you need anything?”
“Well, my name is not sweetie.” I smiled at her. “Did you just give him your phone number?”
Her mouth opened.
“With me sitting right here, on a date with him?” I continued. The woman’s tanned cheeks deepened to a rosy color while Zayne emanated a strange choking sound. She opened her mouth. “I’m all about ra-ra women empowerment, embracing our sexual needs and all that good stuff, but try respecting your fellow sisters first and that was not at all respectful.”
Debbie stood there, arms lowering to her sides. I looked at Zayne. One hand was curved over his mouth as he stared at the table.
“You want to add something to the conversation?” I paused, eyes narrowing. “Honey?”
“Oh, no. I think you’ve just about covered it.” He lowered his hand and looked up, eyes dancing. “You can keep the number. I’m not going to need it.”
Debbie didn’t pick up her card. She muttered, “Excuse me,” under her breath and hurried off as fast as her heels would carry her.
“Well,” Zayne said, drawing my attention. “I doubt she’ll do that again.”
“Probably not.” Reaching across the table, I picked up the card. “You want it?”
“No.” He laughed quietly.
“You sure?” I tossed the card to his side of the table. “I can’t believe she did that. She didn’t know who I was. If I was your girlfriend or not.”
“Maybe she thought you were my friend,” he said, sending me a long sideways look. “Or maybe my sister?”
I gaped at him. “Seriously?”
He laughed. “I’m kidding.”
My eyes narrowed once more. “Ha. Ha.”
“Seriously, though, it was rude, and I was about to point that out before you did in such a cheeky manner.” Zayne leaned over and pulled out a slim wallet.
“I have money.” I reached for the wad of cash I’d grabbed before we left the apartment. “I can pay—”
“I got this.” He dropped several bills, one of them fairly large.
“I’m already living in your place, eating your food and I stole your—”
“I got it, Trin.” He closed the bill folder. “That’s what I do on a date.”
I about choked on my own spit. Thank God I hadn’t taken a drink. “A date?”
Zayne nodded, pushing the folder to the end of the table with a long finger. “Isn’t that what we’re on?”
Oh my God.
My face burned brighter than a thousand suns. “Look, I didn’t say that to Dolly—”
“Debbie,” he corrected.
“—because I thought we were on a date. I was just proving a point.”
“I know.”
“And it’s not like I think that’s what this is about.” I was going to die. Right here. Wither up in embarrassment. “I didn’t say that to get you to pay.”
“I know,” he repeated, standing. “But if it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck, it must be a duck.”
“What?” I scrambled to my feet.
“This feels like a date and looks like one.” He waited for me to make it around the table. “So, maybe it is a date.”
“It’s not a date,” I hissed. My gaze bounced from him to the dimly lit narrow, convoluted spaces between the tables.