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Having Darien pay was probably for the best, though, given how many shifts she was missing. She would need to call Mordred and Penny soon and let them know she was okay. It was strange to think that her life was completely on pause back at home. She wondered what everyone thought of her absence—how much they knew.
When they walked out the door to the apothecary, under a sky that began to sprinkle with rain, Darien said, “I hate how everyone looks at us like that.”
She peeked up at him. “Like what?”
“Like I’m wrong for being with you. Like I’m somehow hurting you by being your boyfriend.”
She took his hand, loosening his fist and lacing their fingers. “You’re the one who always says it doesn’t matter what people think,” she said softly, watching as a muscle feathered in his jaw. “And it doesn’t.”
“I know.” He sighed. “I guess I just get my back up about it because I’d never raise a finger against you.”
“They don’t need to understand, Darien. Besides, we’re kind of in our own private club this way, and…” She shrugged and tucked a lock of hair behind an ear. “I like it.” It was true—she liked what they had. She never wanted it to change.
Darien lifted their twined hands and kissed the back of hers. “Let’s cross here,” he said, using their hands to gesture to the crosswalk. “There’s this place I want to show you.”
“Okay,” she said, walking now with a skip in her step.
It turned out to be a bakery with what Darien claimed were the best cinnamon buns in the world. When they picked a table by the windows and sat down to eat, Loren knew from the first bite that Darien had not been exaggerating. These were amazing. Melt-in-your-mouth amazing.
Just like the Darkslayer sitting across from her.
This right here—this life with Darien—felt like home. It didn’t matter that Angelthene was miles away. The city didn’t matter—he was her town, her home. Darien was all she needed. And when he leaned across the tiny table to kiss the sugar off her lips, she melted just like the icing.
Singer and Bandit were sprawled under the table by their feet, eating Murktreats. Bandit scarfed his down faster than Singer ate his, then proceeded to stare at Singer in challenge.
When Loren was finished, she sat back in her chair and rested her hand on her stomach. “That was so good. I’m so full.”
Darien pushed their paper plates aside and folded his arms on the table, his eyes briefly dipping to the hand that was resting on her stomach. “Do you think you’ll ever want kids?”
“Whoa there, Daredevil,” she breathed. “The only baby bump I want right now is from a cinnamon bun.”
He fought a smile.
She leaned forward to rest her arms on the table. “Where is this coming from?”
“Just a question,” he said quickly. “I don’t mean anything by it, but I think about our future a lot. And…” He inhaled. “I just want you to know how much you mean to me. And that I’m in it with you for the long run. No matter what you want in life, no matter what comes our way, I’m with you.” His use of the term ‘long run’ made her heart give a painful thump.
Long run…as if they had all the time in the world. As a hellseher, Darien did, but a mortal like her…
She swallowed, staring down at the checkered tablecloth. Now that all her memories were back, she couldn’t help but recall one in particular.
Her conversation with the Widow. The spider had told her that she was not meant for Darien, had urged her to leave and stop breaking her own heart. Had told her they were fighting against chains unlikely to be broken. Perhaps the one thing the Nameless beings were good for was their honesty. Anything they said, a person could trust. But the truth was not always kind.
Darien dipped his head to try and catch her eye. “Baby?”
She lifted her gaze to his face. “Do you want to be a dad?” she wondered.
His expression turned grave, his eyes filling with warring emotions. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I’m scared I wouldn’t be any good at it.” To hear Darien say those words—‘I’m scared’—was so…bizarre. There wasn’t a lot that scared this man. “Especially if I had a son,” he added.
“Because of Randal,” she said quietly.
He gave a stiff nod, his eyes as cold as glass.
She leaned forward and reached for his hands, and he gave them to her, the tension in his left melting under her touch. “Just for the record, I think you’d be an amazing dad.”
Darien’s gaze softened. “And I think you’d be an amazing mother. You’re kind and selfless. Patient. Mild.” He smiled a little. “And utterly perfect.”
She snickered. “You’re the perfect one.”
