Page 64 of The Dragon’s Good Girl

"I want to tell you what I was trying to tell you before you left," I say. "You said red, so the conversation ended there. I'm not trying to undo that. I just want the chance to finish it now, if you'll let me."

Margot is quiet for a moment, then nods. "Okay."

"The woman in the parking lot was Monica. She was a regular client, and one of the last appointments I'd already committed to before I started stepping back from sessions. What you saw was exactly what you thought you saw in one respect: she left relaxed and cared for because that was what she came to me for. But she didn't leave with what you have, Margot."

Her fingers tighten slightly around the frame. "You said you're stepping back, what does that mean?"

"I stopped taking new clients and began transferring the existing ones before you came to see me the other night. I should have told you immediately, but I'd spent several days making certain the transitions were handled properly before I said anything to you. They trusted me, and I wasn't willing to simply abandon them because my circumstances had changed."

"And your circumstances were me."

"Yes."

I shift on the couch, stretching one leg out so I'm no longer folded into quite such an undignified shape. "You were right about something else that night. There are parts of what I gave you that began as my job. The heat, the praise, the aftercare, the space itself—I'm not going to rewrite our history and pretend none of that was professional simply because my feelings changed. I understand why seeing Monica made you question all of it."

Margot looks down at the flowers. "I thought I'd been an idiot. I thought I'd taken things you probably did every week and made them special because I wanted them to be."

"You weren't an idiot. The peonies were because I remembered your grandmother. I cooked because I wanted to feed you something I'd made myself. I walked you to your car because every instinct I had was demanding I stop you from leaving." I pause, watching her thumb move along the edge of the frame. "And Angel has never belonged to anyone else."

Her eyes lift to mine.

"I meant everything I told you that night. What I didn't manage to tell you was how far it had already gone. By the time you saw Monica, I'd cleared most of my calendar, and I'd already started making space for you in my rooms."

Her brow furrows. "Making space for me?"

"I cleared a drawer for you."

Margot stares at me. "You cleared a drawer for me after three sessions?"

"When you say it like that, it does sound slightly unhinged."

There are moments when six hundred years of life offer no useful preparation whatsoever.

"It is unhinged."

"I'm a dragon, Angel. We have unfortunate instincts regarding possessions and domestic arrangements."

A laugh escapes her before she catches it, and I feel my dragon stir at the sound.

"There was also your hair tie," I admit.

"My hair tie?"

"The one you left behind after your first session. It's beside my lamp."

Her expression shifts from confusion to disbelief. "You kept my hair tie?"

"Yes, and before you ask, I'm aware that this is not improving my case."

"Soren."

"And the robe."

She closes her eyes briefly. "What robe?"

"The one you wore after our second session. I removed it from the laundry before it could be washed."

Her eyes open. "You stole a robe because it smelled like me?"