Incubus Dreams

24

We sent Gregory in his kitty-cat fur down to watch Damian. Gregory was about the only one in the house not tied to me metaphysically. Well, okay, Fredo and Dr. Lillian, but Fredo wouldn't leave her alone, and Dr. Lillian said she wasn't finished with Richard's arm. So process of elimination made it Gregory's job.

He informed me as he glided toward the basement, with his spotted tail swishing behind a very human-looking backside, "I'm supposed to be on stage tonight at Guilty Pleasures. I can't go on like this. Jean-Claude will need to find a sub." He gave that kitty-cat grin of bared teeth and vanished around the corner.

"What does he mean, he's supposed to be on stage?" Clair asked.

"He's a stripper at Guilty Pleasures," I said.

She made a little O with her mouth. I wasn't sure why, unless her world was so protected that just being in the car with a stripper was a big deal. For her sanity's sake, I hoped her world was bigger than that.

"But, I don't understand, why can't he"--she made a waffling motion with her hands--"perform tonight?"

Richard saved me the lecture. "Remember that once in animal form you have to stay that way for six to eight hours."

"I thought that was just because I was new."

Richard shook his head, winced as if it hurt, and said, "No, most shapeshifters spend their lives tied to a cycle of six to eight hours in animal form, then two to four hours of being passed out once they shift back to human form."

"Sit down," Dr. Lillian said, and her voice indicated she expected to be obeyed.

He eased himself into the same chair he'd vacated. There were lines at his eyes and mouth, those tight pain lines you get sometimes, if something really hurts. How much damage had Damian done to him?

Clair tried to help him into the chair but seemed unsure where to grab him, since he used his good arm on the table to brace himself. She sort of hovered uncertainly by him, as if she wanted to help but wasn't quite sure how. "But you don't have to stay in animal form for eight hours, and you don't pass out when you shift back."

"He is your Ulfric," Fredo said, "no one's king is that weak." His voice was deeper than his chest was wide.

Clair gave him quick eye flicks, as if he made her nervous. Maybe it was the knives. "Do you pass out when you come back into human form?" she asked in a voice that matched the nervous eyes.

"No," he said.

"I do," Nathaniel said. He smiled at her. "Don't ask the rest of them, they'll all make you feel bad, because they don't pass out either."

"How long have you been..." Her voice trailed off.

"A wereleopard," he finished for her.

She nodded.

"Three years," he said.

I did quick math in my head. "That means that Gabriel brought you over when you were seventeen."

He nodded. "Yes."

"That's illegal," I said.

"It's illegal in most states to contaminate anyone willingly with a potential fatal disease, regardless of age," Richard said.

I shook my head. "I guess I'm starting to treat lycanthropy the way the law treats vampirism. If you're eighteen you can choose."

"The law doesn't treat it the same," he said.

I knew that, but I'd spent so much time among the shapeshifters, that I just sort of forgot. Careless of me. "I guess I forgot."

"And you a federal marshal," he said, but the biting comment lacked snap, because he hunched with pain at the same time.

"How hurt are you?" I asked.

"I'll answer that," Dr. Lillian said. She smiled, but her eyes were serious. "If he were human he'd stand a very good chance of losing the use of that arm. Maybe he'd regain 50 percent, maybe less mobility. Your vampire severed muscles and ligaments all through the shoulder and upper chest region."

"But he's not human," I said, "so he'll heal." I let the "your vampire" comment go. I liked the doc, and I didn't want to fight.

"He'll heal, but it will take days, maybe weeks, if he refuses to shift."

"I promise that I will shift to wolf form when I get home."

She looked at him like she didn't believe him.

"Just because I can shift back to human form almost immediately doesn't mean that it doesn't come with a price. I'd rather not be exhausted for the rest of the day. If I shift and stay in animal form for a couple of hours, it will be less of a drain when I go back to human form." I think he was lecturing more for Clair's sake than anyone else's. She really was new. "So I'll wait until I get home, so Clair won't have to explain why she's driving around with a werewolf in the car." That last sounded a tad bitter.

"He won't say it, so I will. I'm new enough that if one of my pack switches form, sometimes it brings on my change, too. And I'm not trustworthy when I first turn animal." She looked down, not meeting anyone's eyes.

Richard took her hand. "It's alright, Clair, everyone has problems at first."

Everyone nodded, some said "yes." That seemed to cheer her a little. She looked younger than I'd thought at first, maybe twenty-four, twenty-five, maybe a little younger. If she hadn't been Richard's new girlfriend, I would have asked. But it seemed like prying and none of my business.

"Even if you shift at home, I've never seen you heal this much damage in forty-eight hours," Dr. Lillian said.

"So?" he said, sounding defensive. Had I missed something?

"If you go to school on Monday with your arm useless and then by Friday it's usable, don't you think some of your fellow teachers might wonder about your remarkable recovery?"

"I'll make up a less traumatic injury, something that could heal that fast."

She shook her head. "If they find out you're a werewolf, they won't let you teach children."

"I know that," he said, voice fierce, and the first thread of his power trickled through the air like a line of heat.

Clair's breath came out in a quiver. She looked dizzy. Micah put a chair under her, and helped Richard ease her into it.

"How long has she been a werewolf?" I asked.

"Three months," he said.

I looked at him, and he wouldn't meet my eyes. "Three months, and you took her outside a safe house less than a week before the full moon?"

"Doesn't your house qualify as a safe house?" he asked.

"You can come here to shift form, but I don't have a reinforced room." Most true safe houses had a room with a steel door and reinforced concrete walls. Most people put the rooms down in their basements and just told those who asked it was storage.

"We were supposed to have a picnic today," Clair said in her small, uncertain voice.

I had to turn around so Richard wouldn't see my face. You did not take a brand-new shifter out for a picnic, if she was having this kind of trouble.

"She was fine this morning," he said.

I turned around when I was sure my face would be blank enough.

"She's responding to your anger, and your beast," Micah said.

"I know that," Richard said, a hint of a growl in his voice.

She swayed in her chair.

"Richard," Dr. Lillian said, "you have better control than this."

He just nodded.

Lillian sighed. "If there was a way to heal your arm before Monday, your secret would be safe."

"No," Richard said.

It took me a moment to get the hint. "If you're suggesting what I think you're suggesting, not only no, but hell no."

She put her hands on her hips and actually stamped her foot. "You are both being childish."

We said no simultaneously.

"Fine, then I've done all I can for your arm. I will stay until we are certain that the vampire isn't going to rise and cause more havoc."

"His name is Damian," I said.

She nodded. "Damian, then, but if you won't let her help you, then I think you and Clair need to go to your house. I would suggest that you take her to the room in your basement, before you shift. She seems very swayed by your power." She said the last as if she wanted to say something different, but thought better of it.

"I'll stay until Damian is down for the day."

"I think you've done your part," Lillian said.

"They needed my help before," he said.

I couldn't argue that, but... "How did you happen to be Johnny-on-the-spot this morning?"

"Gregory couldn't get anyone here to pick him up. He got worried. On his way over, his car broke down. I was next on the list at the coalition help line."

I hadn't actually known Richard was helping staff the emergency calls. "Why didn't he call AAA?"

"He was more worried about why no one was answering your phone than his car."

"I didn't think Gregory cared that much."

Fredo said, "All your leopards are very serious about your and Micah's safety."

I looked at him. "I wasn't aware of that."

He grinned, a brief flash of teeth in his dark face. "You don't like being babied. They know that." The smile faded. "You are their safe harbor; they value that."

I don't know what I would have said to that, but Lillian interrupted and saved me.

"You need to go home, Richard."

"Micah is here now, and Fredo," she said, "I think you can leave it to us."

He started to shake his head again and stopped in mid-motion. "I'll stay until we're sure."

She sighed and shrugged. "You are a very stubborn man. Fine, stay, stay and be in pain." Then she turned to me. "Is there coffee to spare?"

I had to smile. "I think Nathaniel can fix you up."

"I'll just bet he can," she said, and did a polite leer.

Nathaniel took it in stride, with a laugh.

I don't know what the look on my face was, but it caused Lillian to say, "I'm over fifty, Anita, not dead."

"No, it wasn't that." I wasn't sure how to put it into words, but it was more like you didn't say things like that about someone's boyfriend, not in front of them, anyway. There was that word boyfriend again in my head, with Nathaniel attached to it.

She was looking at me, sort of narrowly. "By the look on your face, I stepped in something. Is he more than just a member of your pard?"

I said, "yes," and Richard said, "no." Which left the two of us looking at each other. "I don't think you get to answer questions like that for me, Richard."

"You're right, I'm sorry, but he's not your lover, or your boyfriend."

"No, he's my pomme de sang."

Richard shook his head and had to stop again. I don't think he knew how often he made that motion until today. "I thought, we all thought, he was your live-in, but now I know he's not."

"He does live with me," I said.

Richard started to shake his head, but actually caught himself before he'd begun the movement. "I know that, but he's not your live-in lover."

"And that matters, how?"

"Alright, children," Doc Lillian said, "I made a careless remark. I didn't understand what a pomme de sang means to its, his... owner, master." She sighed. "I didn't mean to offend anyone, let's just leave it at that."

"You didn't offend me," Nathaniel said, and handed her coffee in one of the colored mugs he'd purchased for Furry Coalition meetings. He'd thought it would be nice if we had enough matching mugs to serve our guests. I'd agreed, if I didn't have to shop for them, so he shopped for them. They were all either a deep, rich blue or a dark, forest green. Nice.

He handed me my baby penguin mug with coffee nearly to the brim, just the color I liked it, pale brown. By the color alone, I knew it would be perfect. "Drink," he said, "you'll feel better once you've had some coffee."

"I feel fine," I said, but I sipped the coffee. Perfect.

He'd also already plugged in the coffeemaker. I was right about the French press not making enough coffee at a time to satisfy this many people. Hell, it barely made enough for my early morning needs. "We've got enough for one more cup, who wants it? There'll be more in a few minutes." He smiled at the room in general, getting more of the blue and green mugs out of the cabinet.

"He acts like it's his kitchen," Richard said.

"He cooks in it more than I do," I said.

Richard made a visible effort not to shake his head, though he wanted to. "No, I mean... Jason is Jean-Claude's pomme de sang, but he doesn't move around the Circus of the Damned like he owns it. Nathaniel acts like this is his home."

Nathaniel had his back to the room, but he was close enough to me that I felt his sudden stillness, as he poured coffee and tried to pretend he couldn't hear.

"It is his home," I said.

I was standing close enough to him to hear the slight sigh of his breath, as if he'd held it waiting to hear what I'd say. He was careful not to look at me, but he was smiling as he puttered with the coffee.

"Jason lives with Jean-Claude, but he isn't..." Richard seemed at a loss for words.

Lillian helped him out. "Jean-Claude wouldn't have minded me remarking how cute Jason was, you minded when I said something about Nathaniel. If they're both pomme de sangs, then I think Richard and I are both confused about how we're supposed to act around them. Not boyfriend, not lover, it can get a little confusing."

Nathaniel was very carefully not looking at me, or anyone, but especially not me. I don't know how I knew that he wasn't just busy getting real cream out of the fridge to pour into an honest-to-God cream pitcher. The little pitcher was blue, and the sugar bowl was green, so the mugs matched everything. I knew his favorite color was purple, and had asked him why blue and green, and not purple? His reply was that blue was my favorite color, and green was Micah's favorite color. The answer seemed to make sense to him. It didn't really make sense to me, but I was beginning to learn that things didn't have to make sense to me if it made the people around me happy, and the new dishes seemed to make Nathaniel very happy.

He set the creamer and pitcher on a little tray, along with little tongs for the sugar cubes. Why sugar cubes? Because Nathaniel seemed to get a kick out of asking how many lumps people wanted. He was like a kid playing house. No, that wasn't fair. He was like a new bride that had never had a house, or a kitchen of her own, and was really enjoying the hostess stuff. But it was like he didn't know what real people did in a house, so he was taking it from movies, books, or magazines. I mean nobody serves cream and sugar anymore on a little tray with little tongs, right?

Nathaniel was wearing one of his favorite pairs of blue jeans, so faded that they were turning white in places. They fit his lower body like they were painted on, and it was a nice paint job. His shoulders had broadened since he moved in with me. He was filling out, developing the body he'd have for the rest of his life, if he took care of it. A "late bloomer," my grandmother would have called him. He'd looked younger than he was for years, a delicate body to match the eyes and hair. It had made him popular with a certain kind of clientele that his old Nimir-Raj had pimped him out to. Muscles moved in his arms, shoulders, and back, as he set the tray on the table and began to pass out mugs of coffee. I watched him asking, "How many lumps?" and "Do you want cream?" He moved gracefully around the table on his bare feet. He'd thrown his hair over one shoulder like a cape, so that it was out of the way. I'd have never been able to keep that much hair out of the way without help. Nathaniel made it look effortless.

I sipped coffee out of my penguin mug, and watched him play Suzy Homemaker. I waited to be irritated, but I wasn't. In fact, I was somewhere in the middle of amused, proud, and pleased. He was so cute when he did this.

Richard tensed whenever Nathaniel got close to him, as if he'd have moved back if it hadn't hurt. He didn't take coffee, because he didn't drink coffee. Nathaniel offered to fix tea, but Richard said he didn't want any.

Richard looked at me. "Jason never does this for Jean-Claude."

"Does what?" I asked.

"Play hostess."

"Nathaniel isn't playing," I said. "He's the closest thing we've got to a hostess. It's not really my gig."

Richard looked down at the floor as if looking for inspiration, or counting to ten. Since I hadn't done anything to piss him off in the last five minutes, I wasn't sure where all the tension was coming from. He looked at me with those solid brown eyes, and I still missed his hair. The sad remnants of curls were beginning to grace his head, but it wasn't even close to what he'd had before he got mad at himself and butchered his own hair. "He acts like your wife."

Nathaniel moved back to the coffeemaker, and since I was still leaning nearly in front of it, that put him beside me. He was very careful not to meet my eyes, almost as if he were afraid where the conversation would go.

"And that seems to bother you, why?"

"You're not sleeping with him."

"Yeah, I am, almost every damn night."

"Fine, you want to split hairs, we can do that. You aren't fucking him."

I shook my head. "You always were a sweet-talker when you got pissed."

"I'm not pissed, I'm trying to understand."

"Understand what?" I asked.

Micah wasn't watching Nathaniel or Richard, he was watching me. His chartreuse eyes were very serious, as if he were afraid of what I was going to do. I tried to give him a reassuring smile, that I wasn't going to blow this, but I'm not really good at reassuring smiles. So his eyes went from serious to a little worried.

"You and Nathaniel and Micah."

What I wanted to say was, Why do you need to understand it? But I was trying to be nice, or nicer. "What's to understand, Richard?"

Nathaniel began to pile his hair up into a high, tight ponytail. It was a style women wore more than men, that high, bouncy ponytail that moves when you walk. But his hair was long enough that, to keep it out of the way for cooking, he had to either braid it or do the bouncy ponytail. Once he figured out that I actually thought the bouncy ponytail thing was cute, he'd started doing it more. He washed his hands and went for the fridge.

"How can you watch him like that, when you aren't fucking him?" Richard asked.

By the time I looked fully at him, I knew my face wasn't friendly. "If you want to play rough, we can, Richard, but you won't like it."

"What are you talking about?"

"Fine," I said, "we'll play it your way. Why don't you watch Clair the way I watch Nathaniel, if you've fucked her?"

His face darkened. "Don't talk about Clair like that."

"Then don't talk about Nathaniel," I said.

Nathaniel seemed to be blissfully unaware of us. He got the big marble board out of the cabinet and put it down beside the sink. The marble was only used for one thing--baking of some sort. He moved to the fridge, getting out the dough that he'd made yesterday before we had to get ready for the wedding. Apparently, we were still going to have homemade biscuits, as planned.

"What is he doing?" Richard asked.

"I think he's making biscuits," Micah said.

Nathaniel nodded, making the long fall of auburn hair bounce like it was on a string. "Who's having biscuits, so I'll know how many to make?" He turned peaceful eyes to the kitchen, as if we weren't fighting. Of course, I'd seen what his memory of "fighting" entailed, so maybe by his childhood standards this wasn't a fight.

"I want some," Fredo said.

"Homemade biscuits?" Doc Lillian asked.

"From scratch," Nathaniel said with a smile.

"In that case, yes, please."

Nathaniel looked at Richard and Clair. "Do you want some? I know Gregory will."

"We're only staying until we're sure Damian is safe," Richard said.

He turned his lavender gaze to Clair. "Do you want a biscuit?"

She looked at Richard, sort of nervously, then nodded. "Yes, please." She patted his shoulder. "We didn't get breakfast."

Richard scowled.

I was willing to let the fight go. Nathaniel was right, without saying a word he was right, it hadn't been much of a fight. Of course, just as it takes two people to fight, it takes two sides to call a cease-fire.

"Why do you care what I say about him? He's nothing to you."

I sipped the last of my coffee, put the mug down carefully on the cabinet, and smiled. I knew without a mirror that it wasn't a good smile. It was the smile I got when I finally got to do something violent, when people had been making me behave. If I'd had any doubts about the smile, Fredo pushing himself upright, hands loose at his sides, clinched it. He knew it was trouble. The look on Micah's face said he knew it was trouble, too. Even Clair looked worried. Nathaniel had gone back to smoothing out biscuit dough. No matter what happened, we'd need breakfast, so he was going to make breakfast. In his own way, Nathaniel could be as practical as I was.

Richard scowled up at me, and I knew in that moment that he wanted to fight. And strangely, I didn't.

"Even if he was only my pomme de sang he wouldn't be nothing to me, Richard."

Micah had moved around to stand beside me. I don't think he was sure what I'd do, but, for once, I was okay. I took his hand, partly to reassure him, and partly because he was close enough to touch.

"If he's more than just food to you, why..." Again he seemed at a loss for words.

"Why aren't I fucking him?"

Micah moved me in against his body, so that he was spooning me and had his arms around me. Almost as if he thought he'd have to restrain me and give Richard time to get to a door. My temper wasn't that bad, honest. Well, most of the time. Well, some of the time. Oh, hell, I guess I couldn't blame him for being nervous.

I leaned in against Micah, let his body hold me like it was a favorite chair. I could feel tension I hadn't even known I was carrying seep out of my muscles.

"I thought you were screwing them both," Richard said.

"Such a nice turn of phrase," I said, and the tension just seeped right back in.

"You won't let me say sleep. I'm trying to avoid saying fuck."

"How about sex, or intercourse, those are nice technical terms."

"Alright," he said, "I thought you were having intercourse with both of them."

"Now you know different," I said.

"Yes," he said it, and his voice was softer, less angry.

I felt like I was missing something here. "What difference does it make whether I was having sex with one, or both?"

He looked down then, and wouldn't meet my eyes. "Could everybody leave us alone for a few minutes? Please."

Clair got up a little uncertainly. Dr. Lillian got up, and Fredo moved to follow her. Nathaniel had rolled out the dough enough that he was shaping the individual biscuits. The oven dinged, indicating it was preheated. He looked a question at me.

I wrapped my arms around Micah's arms, pulling him around me like a coat. "You can't kick Nathaniel out of his own kitchen, Richard, and I don't want Micah to go either."

"It's not his kitchen," Richard said, and he was angry again.

"Yes," I said, "it is."

Nathaniel turned back to his baking with a small smile on his lips. He'd already greased up the pans, so he began to arrange the thick doughy circles on them, ignoring us again.

Richard stood, and even though he had one arm bandaged up, I was suddenly aware of how tall he was, how broad his shoulders were. He was one of those men that never seemed as big as they are, until they got angry. "No, it isn't. It isn't even Micah's house. It's yours."

"They live with me, Richard."

He shook his head and grimaced, and made a low sound, not a growl, just frustration. "Micah is your Nimir-Raj, you had the same reaction to each other that Marcus and Raina had. Instantaneous melding, but Marcus didn't move into Raina's house. They couldn't help being attracted to each other, but Raina saw other people. They weren't a couple, not in that way."

"Raina wouldn't have known what monogamy was if it bit her on the ass," I said.

Dr. Lillian and Fredo were making for the door. Lillian grabbed Clair's arm as she went past, and took her with them. Richard didn't even seem to notice.

"Don't you dare talk about monogamy to me," Richard said.

"You may have gotten a peek inside my head, Richard, but I saw into yours, too. I'm not having sex with everyone you thought, but you're having sex with almost anyone that will have you."

"I'm looking for a new lupa," Richard said.

"Bullshit," I said.

Micah's arms were tense against my body. He laid his cheek against the side of my face, but he didn't say anything. He knew better.

"You always screw around when we aren't dating," I said.

"At least I wait until we aren't dating to do it. You always manage to fuck someone else while we're still an item."

I started to move away from Micah, but his arms tightened just enough. He was right. I didn't trust myself not to get more physical than was wise. Slapping Richard right that moment sounded so good. I stayed where I was, but it wasn't relaxing anymore.

"I can't argue that," I said.

"I don't mean Jean-Claude," he said.

"You broke up with me before I was with Micah the first time," I said.

He shook his head and then screamed, partly pain, and partly anger, I think. "Once I calmed down, I could have forgiven you about Micah. I'd seen it with Raina and Marcus, but you moved him in here. Even that, I would have let go, or tried to, but I thought you were screwing Nathaniel. I thought you were fucking him before you broke up with me."

"One, you broke up with me." I needed not to be held when I was this angry. "Let me go, Micah."

"Anita..."

"Let me go, I'll try not to do anything stupid."

He sighed, but he let his arms fall to his sides. I walked out just far enough not to be pressed to his body.

"Like I said, you broke up with me, Richard, not the other way around. You broke up with me, because, quote, you didn't want to love someone who was more comfortable with the monsters than you were, unquote."

He actually looked embarrassed. "That was really unfair of me, and I'm sorry."

He'd finally got me in the mood for a good fight, and he was apologizing, what kind of a fight was that? "Sorry about what, that you said it, or that you believe it?"

"I'd really rather this was just the two of us, Anita. Please."

I shook my head. "You had your chance to be alone with me, and you didn't want it. These are the hands that held me while I cried over you, they've earned the right to stay."

He nodded. "I guess fair is fair," he said, "but there are some things that you deserve to hear that they don't. If you ever let me be alone with you again, I have things you need to hear, but today in front of them, this is all you get. I thought you were cheating on me with Nathaniel before Micah ever came along. Now I know that wasn't true."

"What on God's green earth made you think I was doing Nathaniel that far back?"

"The way you looked at him. The way you reacted to him." He looked at me, and his expression asked, Why wouldn't I think that?

"I'm attracted to a lot of men, it doesn't mean I'm having sex with them." In my head, I added, just because you never pass up a piece of tail, doesn't mean I don't, but I didn't say it out loud. First, it wasn't entirely true, and second, the fight was winding down, I didn't want to wind it back up.

"I know that now, and I'm sorry." He glanced at Nathaniel, who must have put the biscuits in the oven while we were arguing, because he was starting to get plates down, and the pans of biscuits were nowhere in sight. "You asked me why if I'm having sex with Clair, I don't look at her the way you look at Nathaniel."

"I'm sorry, I had no right to say that, especially not in front of her."

"I started it," he said, "but the answer is simple. I don't feel for her what you feel for him."

I shook my head. "Why is everyone so determined that we're a couple?"

He smiled, and it was sort of sad, wistful, and bitter all at once. It reminded me of Micah's smile when he'd first come to me. "Because you're more of a couple right now without the sex than I have been with anyone that I've been sleeping with."

I didn't say, including Clair, because it was none of my business, and it would have been mean. I didn't want to be mean.

"Sex doesn't make you a couple, Richard, love makes you a couple." The moment it left my mouth, I would have taken it back. I was just sort of frozen there, afraid to look anywhere but at Richard's face, because I didn't know what my own face looked like, I didn't want to show shock to Nathaniel, but I didn't know what else to show. I hadn't meant to say it.

"You always do that," Richard said.

"What?" I asked in a small voice, that didn't sound like me at all.

"Fight, rail against it."

"Against what?"

"Love, Anita, you don't like being in love. I don't know why, but you don't."

I had no idea what to say to that.

"I'm going to check on Gregory. Either Damian's asleep, or he ate him." His words tried to make light of it, but his face and eyes couldn't pull it off. But he turned and left, vanishing into the dimness of the living room beyond.

The kitchen was suddenly very, very quiet. If Micah was still standing behind me, no noise betrayed it. I knew he was still there, but he must have been holding his breath, waiting for me to say something, do something. The trouble was I didn't know what to do.

Nathaniel walked past me without a word. He had an armful of plates, green glass, blue glass. He started laying them out on the table in front of the chairs. First a green, then a blue. He went around the table away from me, then laid the last one back at the head of the table within touching distance of me. I'd stayed like some kind of idiot, rooted to the spot, not sure what to say. I couldn't declare undying love, because it's not what I felt. It wasn't.

He moved that small step from the table, and he was suddenly standing right in front of me, close enough that I got a faint whiff of vanilla, and it wasn't the baking. His face was serious, but his eyes held a hint of a smile. He leaned in and laid a kiss on my cheek, while I stood there like an idiot. I was afraid. Afraid that he'd demand that I tell him I loved him, or something equally ridiculous, or equally impossible. But he didn't. He just kissed me, then leaned back with a smile. "I've had hundreds of people tell me they love me, but they didn't mean it. They just wanted to use me. You may never say the words out loud, but you mean them."

The timer buzzed on the oven, and he turned with a smile. "Biscuits are ready." He used a dish towel for a pot holder and took the biscuits out. They were golden brown, and the smell of them filled the kitchen. He took out the second pan, closed the oven, turned it off, and looked at me. "I know how you feel about me now, because you'd have died before saying it in front of Richard, unless it was true. If you never say it again, I'll always value that I heard it once."

He started toward the darkened living room. "I'll tell everybody that breakfast is ready." He stopped at the door and turned back, with a grin on his face that I'd never seen before. One accidental confession, and he was suddenly cocky. "But I still want intercourse." He vanished around the doorframe, trailing a sound of masculine laughter.

Micah came to stand beside me. "Anita, are you alright?" When I didn't answer, he gripped my upper arms, and said, "Look at me."

I blinked too fast and too often, but I looked at him. Things were moving too fast for me. I grabbed his arms and said the first thing that occurred to me. "If I faint, Richard will think I did it because of him."

"You're not going to faint. You never faint." He started easing me into a chair as he finished saying it. I let him, because I was feeling fuzzy around the edges. I didn't want to sit here and have breakfast with these people. I needed some time to think, and the only way to get it was to hide in my bedroom. I couldn't bear to hide. Damn it, for the first time in my life I wished I was a little less stubborn, a little less brave.

My head was between my knees when everyone trooped back in. I didn't faint, but I don't know how, because sitting across from Richard and watching Clair butter his biscuits made me wish I had.

Nathaniel laid out silverware, fetched more coffee, made sure we had at least six kinds of jam, jelly, and preserves. When had there ever been red currant jelly in my refrigerator? I looked at this man bustling about my kitchen, and knew the answer, since Nathaniel had been doing the grocery shopping.

Part of me wanted to run away, but the other small part of me that usually saves me from being a total pain in the ass was wondering if they made those white frilly aprons wide enough to fit over Nathaniel's shoulders. I mean if he was going to play Suzy Homemaker, didn't he need an apron, and maybe a string of pearls? The thought made me giggle, and I couldn't stop it, and I couldn't share it. I ended up having to excuse myself from the table to let the laughter have its way with me. By the time Micah found me, the laughter had given way to tears again. Nathaniel didn't come looking for us. I was glad, except for a small part of me that kept expecting him to come through the door. I was ready to be angry if he came, and disappointed if he didn't. Some days I don't make sense, not even to me.