by Amber Benson
“Settle down,” I said. “Leave Naapi alone and enjoy your dessert!”
It was like dealing with a bunch of unruly kids; no one listened unless you shouted at them. Finally, Jarvis shook the crystal bell, and this seemed to get their attention, bringing a little order to the chaos.
“Thanks, Jarvis,” I said quietly, my annoyance lowering to a simmer now that everyone had stopped screeching at each other.
Taking a deep breath to calm my agitation, I checked out the bowl sitting in front of me.
“What are you?” I asked the dessert, but it was Uriah Drood who answered.
“It’s affogato with homemade vanilla gelato,” he said, spooning the goopy-looking stuff into his mouth with relish.
I raised an uncertain eyebrow, but decided since there was vanilla in the dessert, it couldn’t be too bad. I lifted my spoon and took a bite, wrinkling my nose at the bitter espresso taste. Apparently, I wasn’t a huge affogato fan, the combination of espresso and vanilla not really doing it for me—but the homemade vanilla bean meringue cookies that came with my affogato? Now those were amazing. My mouth watered as I nibbled on the delicious, flaky cookies, and I couldn’t help marveling at how insanely delicious they were. After I’d eaten the two tiny ones off my own plate, I was seriously tempted to steal Jarvis’s bell and ring myself a to-go container of the confections.
“I’d really like to talk to you after dinner. Is that possible?” Daniel asked as he leaned toward me.
I swallowed, biding my time as I tried to figure out his angle. Why did he want to talk to me alone and (hope against hope) did this have anything to do with us getting back together again?
“Give me your cookie and I’ll think about it,” I said finally, not knowing what else to say. A simple “yes” would probably have been fine, but there was something about Daniel that brought out the argumentative side of my personality.
He gave the lone cookie on his plate a long, lingering glance then slid it in my direction. Popping it into my mouth, I sighed as I let the taste of vanilla bean melt on my tongue.
“These things are scrumptious,” I said, my mouth full of cookie. “Thank you.”
Daniel raised an eyebrow, but didn’t comment on my lack of table manners. I dabbed at the corners of my mouth with my napkin, letting him sweat a bit. I very much wanted to spend time with him, but I wasn’t about to let him get what he wanted so easily. Besides, I was peeved at him for bringing Coy to the Death Dinner. It wasn’t like he didn’t know I was going to be there (I was the host, for God’s sake) and that having her on his arm and sharing his room with her was going to make me feel like crap.
“So, we can talk? In private?” he said, glancing over at Jarvis, who was in the middle of a conversation with Caohime. I thought I heard her say the words “Sea Verge,” “mother,” and “Calliope,” but they were too far away, and their tones too hushed, for me to be certain.
“Sure, whatever,” I said, still focused on the other conversation.
He looked pleased, his hand covering mine so he could give my fingers a gentle squeeze. Well, that shifted the focus back to our conversation and pronto. At the feel of his touch, my heart lurched in my chest, a lump forming in the back of my throat. I clenched my teeth together to fight off any tears that might be lurking, wondering if Daniel had any idea how painful all of this was for me. He seemed fine with our situation, as if getting over me had been the easiest thing in the world for him. For me, it’d been one of the most painful experiences I’d ever had, up there with my dad getting killed and my older sister betraying me.
“Okay, I’ll walk you to your room,” he said, and then, as an afterthought, he added: “And I know Runt isn’t going to want to leave your side this evening, so she should come, too.”
“Fine. Whatever.”
He looked a little hurt by my curtness then he shook his head, releasing my hand and returning to his coffee.
While we’d been talking, everyone else had finished their affogato, making me the only one who was still nursing the dessert. Since I wasn’t going to finish it, I pushed the plate away, the small crystal bowl holding the espresso and gelato concoction shuddering against the plate with the force of the movement. Tired and heartsick, I realized it was time to bring this disastrous dinner to a close. I cleared my throat, forcing all ancillary conversations to an abrupt end, and stood up, making Runt snuffle and shift position under the table.
“Once again, thank you all for coming,” I said, looking around the room, but trying not to catch anyone’s eye. “I hope the evening and the meal were enjoyable. Jarvis, what’s next on the agenda?”
My Executive Assistant graciously accepted the gauntlet.
“Please feel free to retire to the drawing room for after-dinner liqueurs,” he said, beaming at the assemblage. “Our servers will meet you there.”
Jarvis rang the crystal bell, signaling the end of dinner and everyone stood up, shuffling out of the room. I hadn’t realized how stressed out the evening had made me, but as soon as the room had cleared and only Jarvis, Runt, and I remained, I let out a huge sigh of relief.
“Jesus, that was awful,” I said, resting my elbows on the table and dropping my chin into my hands. “Do I have to go to the drawing room, too? I don’t think I can bear it.”
Jarvis shook his head.
“I’ll go on your behalf.”
“You’re the best,” I said, blowing him a kiss. “Remind me to give you a raise.”
Jarvis laughed, coming around and patting my shoulder.
“The bodyguard will be waiting out front for you. Do not try to ditch him, please.”
I rolled my eyes.
“I would never do that.” Not true. I was notorious for flouting Jarvis’s direct commands.
“Just be very careful,” Jarvis said, his two caterpillar eyebrows scrunching together with worry. “Now is an extremely vulnerable time for you.”
“I get it,” I said. “I promise I’ll be good.”
Jarvis wasn’t totally convinced—I could tell by the nervous glint in his eye—but he nodded and let it go. Using the back of the chair like a ballet barre, I stood up and stretched, yawning with exhaustion.
“By the way, what happened to your friend Minnie? She didn’t stay for the ball or dinner?”
Jarvis turned a shade of hot pink I’d never seen on a human face before.
“I, well, er…”
I narrowed my eyes, smelling weakness.
“Jarvis, are you and Minnie … Are you, you know?” I needled him, making Jarvis turn an even brighter shade of pink.
“Oh, you so are doing naughty things with Miss Minnie,” I continued, very much enjoying Jarvis squirm.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he spluttered. “Our relationship is purely platonic!”
I snorted.
“Platonic, my ass—”
“She is almost finished with her novel and I’m helping her with the copyediting—”
“But that’s not all you want to help her with,” I shot back.
“Silence!” Jarvis yelped. “Don’t be so crude.”
“I bet she didn’t go to the ball because you were stuck with me and couldn’t play with her—”
Jarvis covered his ears with his hands, making a beeline for the exit.
“Filthy … you have a filthy mind, Calliope Reaper-Jones!”
“Of course I do!” I yelled after him as he crossed the threshold and disappeared down the corridor. “That’s why you like me so much!”
I grinned to myself, pleased with my ability to still get a rise out of Jarvis.
“It’s why I like you, too, you know.”
I turned around to find Daniel standing in the doorway that led to the kitchen.
“It’s why you liked me,” I corrected. “Past tense.”
Daniel opened his mouth to reply, but I cut him off.
“C’mon, Runt,” I called, waking the sleeping dog up. “Time to go back to the room
.”
She made a cute little yipping-yawn noise and stood up, stretching as she padded out from her spot underneath the table.
“You have ten minutes,” I called over my shoulder as I strode toward the exit. “Starting now.”
And for the record, I didn’t care if he followed me or not.
thirteen
I’m a notoriously fast walker, and that evening, trying to outpace Daniel, I was at my fast walking best. At first, he kept up with me, but when he realized I wasn’t going to slow down and that talking was going to be at a minimum, he gave up, dropping his own gait to a saunter so that after a few seconds I’d far outstripped him. Runt, who was much faster than me on a bad day, had no problem keeping up.
As the path stretched out ahead of us like a grayscale version of the yellow brick road, I started to feel guilty about leaving Daniel in my dust. I didn’t know what he wanted to talk to me about, maybe it was important business stuff, and here I was, acting like a spoiled baby and totally blowing him off.
In my heart I knew I was just rationalizing my need for attention from Daniel: bad, good, or business—I would take any of it. I was in denial about my true feelings, so I was going to allow my unconscious need for contact to override any feelings of anger I might have. Slowing my pace, I looked behind me to see if Daniel was still following. He was, but he was so far down the path it was gonna take him all night to catch up. I took a deep breath, exhaling through my nose, and then I headed back the way I’d come.
As I approached him, Daniel was ambling along the path, checking out the statuary illuminated in the rich amber glow of the outdoor lights that dotted the landscape.
“Okay,” I said when I was five feet away. “What do you want?”
Daniel grinned at me. He knew he’d won that hand, and I knew that he knew that I knew.
“Nice of you to join me.”
I crossed the last few feet remaining between us and stood directly in front of him, arms crossed over my chest.
“I hope you know that it’s cold and I’m tired and Runt’s tired—”
“No, I’m not,” the pup said, looking up at me.
“Yes, you are,” I shot back, giving her a warning look. She gave a short yip that let me know she thought I was being a pain in the ass then she trotted a ways down the path to give me and Daniel a little privacy—something I didn’t want.
“Look, I’m not trying to keep you out in the cold any longer than I have to, but there are a few things we need to talk about,” Daniel said, pulling his own coat off and holding it out to me.
“I don’t want it,” I said, gesturing at the coat with my chin, my arms still folded across my chest. “But I do want you to say whatever you have to say and be done with it. By the way, if you try anything weird, there’s a human bodyguard shadowing my every move. So consider yourself warned.”
“Okay, I will consider myself warned,” he said, trying not to laugh. I guess he thought the idea of him doing anything untoward to me was some kind of joke.
“It’s not funny,” I said, annoyed because this was supposed to be quick and painless and now Daniel was purposely dragging it out to make me feel bad.
“That you would think I’d do anything bad to you,” Daniel said, shaking his head. “That’s absurd.”
“Just forget it,” I growled, turning away, but Daniel grabbed my arm, pulling me back.
“Cal,” Daniel said, his breath hot on my cheek. “Just relax.”
We stood there, both of us breathing hard, then he let me go. I took a step back, putting some much-needed distance between us, and smoothed the short skirt of my yellow maid’s uniform down so it wasn’t riding up my thighs.
“I liked your other dress better,” he said, his voice low and gravelly as he stared at me, those ice blue eyes piercing my very soul. “The way it pushed your breasts up was very … sexy.”
I swallowed hard, my body turning on against the better judgment of my brain. I took another step away from him, hoping the cold air would cool me off before I got too heated up down below.
“Thanks,” I said, working hard to keep my voice even. “I liked it, too. But it was either loan it to Kali, or stare at her nipples during dinner.”
Daniel snorted, not expecting the word “nipple” to pop out of my mouth.
“What are you talking about?”
I shrugged my shoulders, goose bumps taking over my skin.
“She got sprayed by a skunk and it ruined her sari. There wasn’t time or reinforcements to get her an outfit from my room, so I picked this from one of the closets—” I indicated the maid’s uniform. “But she said she’d go nude before she’d wear it. So, trading with her was the only option.”
“How do you always end up in these ridiculous situations?” Daniel asked, amusement dancing in his eyes—and I had to physically restrain myself from reaching out and touching his cheek.
It was the kind of thing I’d done a thousand times before when we were together, touching his face or stroking his hair. I never even thought about it, I just did it. Now, touching him was an off-limits experience, something I didn’t have permission to do anymore.
“I guess it’s just a habit,” I said, falling into the easy banter we’d enjoyed as a couple. “Something I was born to do.”
“You’re freezing,” Daniel said, holding out his coat again.
This time I took it, ashamed that I’d been so rude before. He’d been trying to do something nice and I’d thrown it in his face. I slid the jacket over my shoulders, engulfing myself in Daniel’s scent—a spicy, masculine smell I knew better than my own perfume. I inhaled deeply, letting the warmth from the jacket, and the familiarity of his musk, envelope me.
There was just something about Daniel that made me giddy with happiness one moment and ready to deck him the next. I didn’t know if that connoted love, but I had a feeling no one else in the whole universe could make me as happy as Daniel could—and me, the idiot, had to go and screw the whole bloody thing up. I wanted to scream at myself for being such a numbskull, for letting someone as wonderful as Daniel slip away—but instead I shoved all the feelings welling up inside me back down and out of sight.
“Your girlfriend is really pretty,” I said, tucking an errant strand of hair behind my ear. “Took me a little while to realize she was a Goddess.”
Daniel started to say something then shook his head and closed his mouth again.
“What?” I asked.
“Let’s just …” he said. “Let’s talk about something else.”
I nodded, trying to act like those words didn’t break my heart into tiny pieces, but it was useless. A big, fat tear slipped out and rolled down my cheek.
“No,” Daniel said, his face stricken. “Please don’t cry. Please, Cal.”
He reached out and brushed the tear away. My mouth crumpled and I looked down at my feet, fighting back the cascade of tears trying to escape, my resolve quickly deteriorating.
“I hate it when you cry,” he continued, looking kind of teary-eyed himself.
“I can’t help it,” I hiccupped, my throat constricting so I could hardly get the words out. “I miss you.”
I wasn’t imagining things; Daniel’s eyes were as misty as my own. He sniffed and shook his head, trying to shake off the emotion he was feeling, too.
“I can’t talk about this right now, Cal,” he said, brushing away the wetness on his cheek with the back of his hand. “I want to talk about it, but not tonight. Please.”
I nodded, not really understanding what he meant, but just so goddamned happy to be connecting with him again.
“Okay,” I said, nodding. “We can talk later.”
“Thanks, Cal,” he said, smiling at me. “I do need to talk about something else, though. Is that all right?”
“Yeah,” I said, nodding again. “You can talk to me about anything.”
Daniel bit his lip, his face twisting into a grimace of pain.
“Why does everything you s
ay just hit me right here?” he said, indicating the place where his heart was hidden beneath sinew and rib bone.
I shrugged, but I was secretly pleased I was affecting him so much.
“I don’t know. I guess we just have simpatico. Whatever the hell that means.”
“Ha!” Daniel said. “That we don’t have—because sometimes I just want to put a muzzle on you, you drive me so damn crazy.”