SAGE: That’s the most ominous thing you’ve ever said to me
SAGE: What kind of complicated? Good complicated? Bad complicated?
SAGE: “I’m falling for my fake boyfriend” complicated?
SAGE: “He’s secretly married” complicated?
SAGE: “He’s actually a vampire” complicated?
I nearly choke.
ME: You’re spiraling
SAGE: I’M CONCERNED
SAGE: Your silence for 14 hours followed by “it’s complicated” is NOT reassuring
ME: I promise everything is okay. Just wedding stress and stomach issues.
ME: I’ll video call you tonight and explain everything.
SAGE: Everything?
ME: ...mostly
SAGE: POPPY
ME: Trust me. Please. Two more days.
SAGE: Fine. But I’m staying up tonight. The SECOND you can call, you call.
SAGE: And if you’re dead I’m going to kill you.
ME: That’s fair.
I set down my phone and look at Julian. He’s watching me with that expression I’m starting to recognize—the one that means he’s been paying attention to every word I typed while pretending to read his tablet.
“She’s worried about you, isn’t she?” he says.
“She’s always worried about me. It’s her love language.” I push myself out of bed. “What time is it?”
“Just after eight. My associates arrive in an hour.”
“Associates.” I head toward the bathroom. “That sounds very mafia.”
“They prefer ‘old friends.’ Though the comparison isn’t entirely inaccurate.”
I pause at the door. “Should I be nervous?”
“They’re here to help.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Julian sets down his tablet. Crosses to me. Gently, he tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear—which somehow grounds me.
“They’re going to be curious about you,” he says. “You’re the first person in a very long time who’s learned what we are and chose to stay. That’s... unusual.”
“Unusual good or unusual ‘they might eat me’?”
