Chapter 12 #2
I took a bite. She was right about the sweetness, though I wouldn’t have noticed on my own.
“What would you do differently with it?” I asked.
Her face lit up. She launched into an explanation of acid balance and flavor profiles that I only half followed, too distracted by watching her hands gesture, her eyes brighten, and the way she leaned forward when she got excited.
The duck confit came next. Sammy tasted it, made an appreciative sound that did things to my blood pressure, then offered me a bite from her fork.
I leaned forward, taking it from the fork while maintaining eye contact. Her pupils dilated.
“Good?” she asked, her voice rough.
“Very good.”
The risotto followed, then a braised short rib that Sammy declared was perfect. We shared everything, falling into an easy rhythm of tasting and discussing.
“French technique or American?” I asked during the short rib.
“For what?”
“Cooking. Which do you prefer?”
She set down her fork. “That’s like asking which is better, sunrise or sunset.”
“You prefer sunrise.”
“How did you—” She stopped. “Right. I told you that.”
“You did. When I was asking strange questions.”
Pink touched her cheeks. “Those questions weren’t strange.”
“They really were strange. But informative.”
“Your turn, then.” She leaned back, her wine glass in hand. “Never have I ever.”
“The drinking game?”
“The getting-to-know-you game. I’ll start. Never have I ever been to France.”
I took a sip of wine, then watched her face. “Never have I ever carved something with a chainsaw.”
She grinned, drinking. “Wait, that doesn’t work. I haven’t done that.”
“Exactly. You’re supposed to say things you haven’t done. If I have, I drink.”
“Oh. Right.” She thought for a moment. “Never have I ever flown under my own power.”
I drank.
“Never have I ever been afraid of mice,” she said.
I froze, glass halfway to my mouth. “How did you know that?”
“Corey mentioned it.”
“They’re unpredictable,” I said, wincing. “And they have no respect for personal space.”
She laughed so hard she had to set down her wine glass. “You’re seven feet tall with wings and claws, and you’re afraid of mice.”
“They’re quick and they have sharp teeth.”
“So do you.”
“That’s different.”
She was still giggling when our server brought the next course. I loved that sound more than anything.
“Never have I ever,” she said, composing herself, “been able to whistle.”
“You can’t whistle?”
“Not a single note. I’ve tried. It just sounds like I’m spitting.”
I demonstrated, a clear whistle that made her wrinkle her nose.
“Show off.”
My tail tried to wrap around her ankle. I let it, curious if she’d notice.
She did, glancing down, but she didn’t move away.
My wings rustled against the back of my chair.
“Never have I ever,” I said, struggling to focus, “worked in a professional kitchen.”
She drank. “Never have I ever sold art for thousands of dollars.”
I drank.
“Never have I ever,” she said, her voice dropping slightly, “felt like this on a date.”
Our eyes met across the table. The restaurant noise faded into background static.
I lifted my glass. “Neither have I.”
We both drank.
The server arrived with dessert, an elaborate chocolate construction that Sammy immediately began analyzing. But her attention kept drifting back to me, and mine had never left her.
“Can I ask you something?” she said, setting down her fork.
“Anything.”
“Why did you really come to America? I mean, I know you said to reconcile with Feydin, but was that all?”
I considered how much to tell her. The truth sat on my tongue, that I’d come seeking family, belonging, and a fresh start after years of isolated creation. That I’d found all of that and more with her and Corey.
“I was alone too long,” I said. “Creating beautiful things in an empty studio for people I’d never meet. I wanted to be part of something.” I met her eyes. “I wanted to matter to someone and I didn’t there.”
She reached across the table, taking my hand. Her fingers were warm, and small in mine.
“You matter to Corey,” she croaked. “To me.”
“You matter to me too. Both of you.”
We sat like that, hands linked across the table, our dessert forgotten.
“I want this to be something,” she said. “Not just because you’re good with Corey or helpful around the manor. But because when I’m with you, I feel like I can breathe for the first time in years.”
My tail tightened around her ankle. My wings spread, because I was unable to contain the emotion flooding through me.
“I want that too,” I said. “I want to be part of your life. Part of Corey’s life. Not as a visitor or a helper, but as someone who stays.”
“Even when it’s hard? Because it will be hard. Virginia, money stress, all my baggage.”
“Especially then.” I squeezed her hand. “I don’t want you feeling you need to do any of it alone anymore.”
The server appeared with the check, breaking the moment. I paid, wanting to get back to this conversation and connection forming between us.
Outside, people strolled past shop windows, couples walked hand in hand, and a street musician played guitar near the fountain.
“Want to walk a bit before we fly back?” Sammy asked.
I held out my arm. She took it, and we joined the flow of people moving through the square.
My tail curved in contentment behind me.
We stopped to look in shop windows, including a bookstore with a display of children’s books that Sammy said Corey would love.
An art gallery showing local pieces that made me want to talk about technique and composition.
A toy store with elaborate model kits that made us both think of Corey’s Lego projects.
“We should do this more,” Sammy said. “Not just react to crises.”
“I’d like that.” I paused, weighing my next words. “Even when I move into the house, I still want be part of your daily life, if you want that too.”
She stopped walking, turning to face me. “I’m terrified of all the things I’m wanting. Of getting used to having you around and then losing you. But I want you in our daily life. In my life.”
I pulled her closer. “I’m not going anywhere. I told Corey that, but I need you to believe it too.”
“I’m trying.”
“Try harder.” I touched her face, tracing her cheekbone with my finger, the claws retracted. “I’ve waited a long time to find what I want. I’m not walking away from it.”
She leaned into my hand. “We should get back.”
“Probably.”
Neither of us moved.
Someone coughed, trying to get past us on the sidewalk. We broke apart, both laughing.
The flight back felt different from the flight out. Sammy relaxed into my arms, her head resting on my shoulder, humming a soft tune.
I flew slowly, not wanting the night to end, but eventually, we coasted over the lights of Harmony Glen. The manor appeared in the distance, lit up in the dark.
I landed in the clearing behind the house, but I was reluctant to let her go. She looked up at me, her face close enough to kiss.
“Thank you for tonight,” she said.
“Thank you for saying yes.”
We walked around the building to the front door. Inside, Laney sat on the couch.
She looked up when we entered, a smile spreading across her face.
“Good date?” she asked.
“Very good,” Sammy said.
“Corey was perfect. He fell asleep at eight-thirty after building what he calls an ‘interspecies medical facility’ out of Legos.” Laney stood. “I’m going to head out before Mai wakes up and wants to eat.”
Sammy walked her to the door, thanking her profusely. I hung back, watching them hug goodbye.
Then Laney was gone, and it was just us in the quiet house.
Sammy shut the door and leaned against the back. I stood near the stairs, my tail making slow swoops behind me.
“I should check on Corey,” she said.
“I should let you get some rest.”
Neither of us moved.
She pushed off the door, crossing the distance between us. My wings spread involuntarily as she got closer.
“Walk me upstairs?” she asked.
I nodded, and we climbed the stairs with the house settling around us.
After she’d checked on Corey, she turned back to face me.
Her room was to the left, mine to the right.
“Gavrel,” she said, coming closer. She rose on her toes, one hand on my chest for balance, and kissed me.
I wrapped my arms around her, careful of my strength, and kissed her back. My tail curled around her waist, my wings creating a cocoon around us.
She made that small sound I remembered, the one that drove me wild.
When we broke apart, we were both breathing hard.
“Come in?” she whispered, tilting her head toward her door.
My wings spread wider, pure joy and desire flooding through me.
“Are you sure?”
She took my hand, pulling me toward her room. “I’m sure.”
The door closed behind us with a soft click.