“Oh, my God, why are you making this worse?” I cried. I didn’t know whom I felt more sorry for at that point, myself or poor, unsuspecting Wilbur. “I do not need that image in my head. And as much as I appreciate your intentions, don’t ever do this again. It’s weird.
Wait, wait, if you thought we would be all naked and blissful by now, why are you calling?” I asked, ignoring the way Gabriel’s eyebrows shot up at that comment.
“Well, even vampires have a recovery period.”
I scrunched my nose. “Ew. That’s a conversation ender. I’ll call you later.” I hung up the phone and turned on Gabriel. “I’m going to take a shower. Maybe you shouldn’t be here when I get out.”
Leaving a trail of discarded lingerie in my wake, I stomped toward the bathroom. I turned the water to the white-hot range, slid into the shower, and fought back tears. Oh, how was I mortified? Let me count the ways. One, I put on strange underwear collected from my doorstep without knowing whom it was from or what they could have done to it. Two, my boyfriend blew off Valentine’s Day. Three, my girlfriend was so sure this might happen (and rightly so) that she provided me with a pity present to get me laid. Four, I had images of a teddy-clad Grandma Ruthie doing some sort of fan dance in my head. And five, my boyfriend blew off Valentine’s Day.
I thought that bore repeating.
I soaped my hair, deliberately avoiding the almond-scented antifrizz shampoo Gabriel liked in favor of plain old Pantene. I heard the bathroom door open. Gabriel came in and sat on the bathroom counter.
“Jane, we’ve talked about this,” he said softly. “I’m your sire and your lover. My bond to you is very strong. I won’t share you with another man, even if he does have impeccable taste in lingerie.”
That was sort of a confession of love, right?
I snapped the shower curtain open, glaring at him through the soap bubbles slipping down my face. “Why is it that your first assumption is that it’s another man? What about me makes you think I would cheat on you?” Then I snapped the curtain closed.
Somehow, his voice lowered even further, his tone worn thin. “I don’t know if I can make you happy, Jane. That makes me sick inside. I see the regrets you have. I see the longing in your eyes when you talk about your life before, the things you miss. I don’t know if I’m good for you. There are times when I wonder if you’re really happy as a vampire, whether you wish I’d never met you that night. If some part of you would be happier as a human.”
This time, I slung the curtain so hard the rings popped off the curtain rod. “Well, of course, some part of me would be happier as a human, you dumbass!” I yelled. “For one thing, I wouldn’t spontaneously combust when I wanted to, say, take a walk before sunset. I wouldn’t have to put up with my mother’s undead denial issues. I wouldn’t have to worry about people shrinking away every time I walk into a room. And I’d be able to eat. I haven’t eaten in months, do you realize that? No carbs, no fats, no chocolate.
Nothing! I mean, do you know what it’s like for someone like me, not being able to get chocolate?”
Gabriel was obviously unprepared for the level of anger (or volume) in this wet, naked outburst. Looking slightly dazed, he closed what was left of the curtain. He was barely audible over the sound of the shower spray. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were so miserable.”
“I’m not. I’m not miserable. But I’m not completely happy as a vampire. And it’s not fair for you to expect me to be. If you want a real, honest relationship, I can’t put on a happy fanged face for you. Were you thrilled with your new life after you were turned?”
“No, but my family did tie me naked to a tree to wait for the sunrise,” he pointed out calmly. “We’re straying from the point.”
I stuck my head under the rapidly cooling spray. “Which is?”
“That another man is sending you underwear.”
I could let him keep wondering, I mused, rolling my eyes. I could let Gabriel think I had a secret admirer, make him jealous. After weeks of wondering where he was, what he was doing, whom he was with, he deserved it. But I’d never been that girl, the game player, the girlfriend who played by asinine “rules” laid out in the self-help book of the week. And even though it would probably make me feel better, I don’t think Gabriel pushing a tree on top of some poor guy he suspected of being my suitor would help our relationship.
“It wasn’t another man,” I huffed. “It was Andrea.”
There was a heavy silence on the other side of the curtain. “Er … that wasn’t something I was prepared for. I thought maybe it was Zeb.”
“Ew!” I cried.
“Well, he’s been acting so strange lately,” Gabriel protested. “And I don’t see how Andrea giving you sexy underthings is any less disturbing. I don’t think anyone should be buying you sexy underthings but me.”
“Well, you didn’t.” I cut the water off and snapped the curtain open. I pushed past him and snatched a towel. He grabbed my hand and pulled me to eye level with him. “Andrea felt the need to step in for you. Instead of assuming the worst, you could just talk to me, Gabriel,” I said as he followed me into my bedroom. I yanked open a dresser drawer and pulled out my flannel cow pajamas.
“Not the cow pajamas, Jane, please, there’s no reason to let this ruin our evening,” hegroaned. “I’m sorry.”
“Beg pardon?” I asked, cupping my hand around my ear. “What was that?”
“You heard me,” he grumbled. “With our hearing, it’s impossible for you not to have heard me.”
“No, I don’t believe I did,” I said. “Because I’m sure the Master of Poise could not possibly have just apologized to little old me.”
“Smugness is not attractive on you, Jane.”
“Smugness is one of my best features,” I retorted, backing him against the footboard of my bed. “I’m really, really good at it.”
“I’ve noticed,” he muttered, nuzzling his nose along my jawline. Laughing, he slipped his hand through my hair and kissed my temple.
I shrugged him off. “Hey, I’m still mad at you, Valentine’s Day skipper. You are going to be punished. And not in the fun way.”
“I acquiesce to your demands,” he said solemnly. He nodded at my bovine sleepwear.
“Now, I think you should take this off.”
I snorted. “Not going to happen, my friend.”
And it didn’t. Instead of hot Valentine’s Day sex, I made Gabriel paint my toes lavender (he has incredibly steady hands) while we watched the most dreaded of all chick flicks, Sleepless in Seattle. I would say he learned his lesson, but I caught him wiping at his eyes toward the end.
“Are you crying?” I asked.
“No!” he exclaimed. I snickered and patted his shoulder. “It’s just, it was so unlikely, the two of them showing up at the Empire State Building at the same time after missing each other so often. And—”
“Do you want to sleep over?” I asked suddenly.
“Will I have to sleep on the couch?”
“No, you can sleep in the guest room,” I said sweetly as I secured the blackout curtains.
“I’d rather make a run for my house,” he muttered.
I pulled back the comforter for him. “Fine.”
He grinned and stripped down to his slacks. As a habit, Gabriel didn’t wear underwear. I guess he wasn’t feeling secure enough in my good humor to sleep in the nude. He fluffed the pillows on both sides of the bed and flopped down in giddy anticipation.
“What’s with you?”
“I’m just excited,” he said, grinning.
I rolled my eyes as I reached for the bedside lamp. “Just for the record, this is my first coed sleepover since Zeb and I were in fifth grade. And even then, Mama made Zeb sleep on a different floor of the house. I am the spoonee, by the way. You are the spooner.”
“I don’t spoon,” Gabriel said.
“Well, you do now,” I told him, wrapping his arms around my waist. “You don’t snore, do you?”