24. Conrad #2
The carriage was waiting for us outside the pub. I gestured at it dramatically. “Your ride awaits, m’lady.”
Winnie stopped so abruptly that I nearly walked into her. “A carriage?” she asked.
I tried to look casual. “Maybe.”
She turned toward me. Her eyes narrowed. “Conrad Lawrence. You arranged a carriage ride? Don’t you think that’s a little much?”
“I arranged transportation. It was necessary.”
“Transportation.”
“Yes.” I fought a smile.
For a moment, she simply stood there, looking completely taken aback. Then she slipped her hand into mine. “You’re ridiculous.”
“That’s true.”
“And romantic,” she added.
“I refuse to confirm that.”
I opened the carriage door. She climbed inside, and I followed after her. The driver flicked the reins and the horse started forward. The wheels rattled softly against the street. Downtown spread out around us, fairy lights twinkling and store windows glowing.
Winnie shifted closer to me, her shoulder brushing mine. Then she moved a little closer still, until she was tucked comfortably against my side. I wrapped an arm around her. The movement felt natural. Easy. Like we’d been doing this for years. I couldn’t seem to get close enough to her.
My arm tightened around her shoulders. Her head settled against me. The scent of her shampoo drifted up, something floral that made me think of safety and home now.
We rolled past old brick buildings. Restaurants. Bookstores. Couples strolling along the sidewalks. A musician playing outside a coffee shop. All so utterly normal. It was spectacular. It was the kind of life I’d spent years watching through a window while buried in work and grief.
Winnie tilted her head back. “You seem thoughtful.”
I looked down at her. She was watching me in that careful way she always watched people. As though she genuinely wanted to understand them.
I brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “I know I said this before, but I truly thought I’d lost you.”
Winnie leaned into my touch, her jaw losing its rigid strain as she let out a quiet breath. “Conrad...”
“I mean it.” I swallowed. Even now my stomach twisted, remembering that cottage.
Bogdan. The way she’d looked standing behind him.
The way she’d said goodbye, quitting her job without an explanation.
Then I remembered the way I’d driven home, convinced something terrible was happening and unable to do anything about it.
“I spent two days thinking I’d never see you again.”
Her hand slid over mine. “I know.”
“I couldn’t stop imagining things.”
“Worse-case scenarios?”
“The absolute worst.” I looked out at the passing storefronts. “I kept wondering if I’d done something wrong.”
Her face crumpled, then she shifted even closer. Close enough that I could feel the coolness of her skin through my jacket. Something I’d noticed from the very beginning. Something I’d always unconsciously registered.
Now I knew why. Oddly enough, it didn’t bother me. It felt like her. Just another piece of Winnie.
“I’m sorry for putting you through all of that pain, mentally and physically.”
“You don’t have to apologize.”
“I do.”
I shook my head. “You were being controlled.”
She looked down. “I still hate it.”
“I know.”
The carriage turned onto the main promenade, the horse’s hooves clopping rhythmically on the pavement.
Winnie watched everything with open fascination, as though she was still capable of being surprised by the world after two hundred years. Maybe especially because she’d lived that long. Perhaps she’d learned what mattered. Maybe she’d learned not to take things for granted.
I found myself studying her again. Which seemed to be a recurring problem. She caught me. Again.
“You’re staring.”
“I am.”
“You aren’t even going to pretend otherwise?”
“Nope.”
That earned a smile.
“I’ve missed this,” she admitted.
I was confused. “The carriage rides?”
“Being looked at like I’m a person.”
Her answer was like a punch to the gut. For two centuries, she’d been treated as a servant. A governess. A nanny. A curiosity. A vampire. A possession. A thing.
Everyone had wanted something from her. Very few had simply wanted her.
I reached over and took her hand. “You deserve better than that.”
She squeezed my fingers.
The rest of the ride passed in comfortable conversation.
She shared more stories from her past. I had more questions with, of course, teasing sprinkled in.
This kind of easy intimacy grew every time we were together.
By the time the carriage finally stopped near the river promenade, neither of us seemed eager to leave, but the driver cleared his throat, signaling our time was up.
I climbed out and offered Winnie my hand.
The horse beside us suddenly snorted. Its ears flattened as it shifted uneasily.
I frowned.
The driver frowned.
The horse backed up another step.
Winnie stopped. “Oh.”
The driver looked embarrassed. “Sorry, ma’am. Sometimes he gets nervous around strangers.”
The horse was staring directly at her. Almost suspiciously.
I had just enough time to wonder if animals could tell she was technically undead before Winnie stepped forward, slowly and carefully.
The horse watched her approach. Then Winnie lifted a hand.
Her fingers brushed the horse’s nose. Everything changed instantly.
The tension disappeared. The horse relaxed and practically melted under her hand.
Winnie smiled and rubbed beneath its jaw. The horse huffed happily.
The driver blinked. “Well.”
Winnie laughed. “I’ve always liked animals.”
The horse nudged her shoulder affectionately. She scratched behind one ear. The animal looked ready to follow her home.
I watched, completely captivated. There was something almost unreal about her sometimes, and not because she was a vampire or immortal. She moved through the world with such kindness toward the vulnerable—children, animals, even lonely strangers. Toward everyone except murderous vampire sires.
She glanced over her shoulder and caught me staring. “You have that look.”
I raised my hands innocently. “What look?”
“The one where you’re trying to solve a puzzle.”
I smiled. “You’re full of surprises.”
She returned to petting the horse. “I hope that’s a good thing.”
“It really is.”
I took her hand, and we walked along the promenade. The river reflected the city lights. Other couples wandered nearby. Music drifted from down the street.
“Can I ask you something?” Winnie asked.
“Anything.”
She looked down at our joined hands. “How?”
I frowned. “How what?”
“How could you possibly want this?”
I blinked. “This?”
She gestured vaguely at herself. “The vampire part.”
“Oh.”
The insecurity in her expression caught me off guard. This was a woman who’d survived two centuries, defeated her sire, helped raise children and had built a quiet life for herself despite all the odds being against her. Yet somehow this still worried her.
“Winnie.”
She waited.
I stopped walking and turned to her, putting my hands on her shoulders. “The vampire part is probably the least interesting thing about you.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “That cannot possibly be true.”
“It is.”
“Conrad, I literally drink blood.”
“You also make incredible soup.”
She laughed. “I’m serious.”
“So am I.” I reached for both of her hands and held them between mine. “Your species isn’t why I love you.” The words came easier now. “I love how you treat my children.”
Her eyes softened.
“I love how patient you are with CJ.”
A smile appeared.
“How you listen to Bianca. How you encourage Billie instead of trying to make her less herself.”
That one nearly made her cry.
I kept going. “I love that you carry emergency wet wipes everywhere.”
She laughed.
“I love that you make enough food to feed a small army.”
The laugh got bigger.
“I love that you somehow know everything.”
She scowled. “I do not know everything.”
“You knew plague facts.”
“Yes. I know plague facts.”
“You knew spider facts.”
“Well, of course. They’re important.”
“You knew medieval cooking techniques.”
She pointed at me. “That one is useful.”
I squeezed her shoulders. “My point is...” The words caught briefly. “My point is that being a vampire isn’t who you are. And I know we’re only really on our first date.”
Her eyes remained fixed on mine.
“But I’d like more.”
A tear escaped. She didn’t wipe it away.
“I’d like to see where this goes.”
Another tear.
“I’d like a future where we get to keep figuring each other out.”
Her lips trembled.
“And honestly? The kids already adore you.”
That earned a watery laugh. “They really do.”
I gently wiped the tears from her face. “I can’t imagine our house without you anymore.”
She’d become part of all of it. Without me even noticing or giving her permission. She’d infiltrated our lives without warning. And now I couldn’t imagine going back.
Winnie stepped closer. “I love you.”
“I know.”
She laughed through her tears. Then kissed me. It was slow and soft, like she was still a little afraid this wasn’t real. I kissed her back.
The house was eerily quiet when we stepped through the front door.
For years, every room had been filled with children’s questions and laughter. With their arguments and the occasional declaration that someone had died when they very much had not.
Tonight there was none of that. Just silence.
Winnie paused in the foyer and glanced around. “They’re really not here.”
I laughed as I hung up my keys. “They’re having the time of their lives.”
“Poor Amethyst,” she said.
“Hey, she volunteered. And I wasn’t about to pass up free babysitting.”
Winnie giggled. “That doesn’t mean she understands what she’s agreed to.”
I imagined Billie explaining cryptids at midnight, CJ pitching story ideas until dawn, and Bianca correcting everyone involved.
“You’re right,” I admitted. “We should probably send flowers.”
Winnie smiled.
God, that smile.
I moved toward the kitchen. “What would you like to drink?”
“Surprise me.”