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“If we had time, I’d tell you about that figure of speech’s origins in connection to gravedigging, but I’m not going to,” I said, picking up the phone. “No gift means no trivia.”
“And yet somehow I think I’ll survive,” Gabriel groused.
I gave him a meaningful look as I barked a greeting into the phone. A sly female voice asked, “Did you like the presents?”
“Who is this?”
“It’s Andrea.” The voice on the other end of the line sounded hurt.
“Hi. I don’t—I can’t talk right now,” I whispered. Gabriel’s eyes narrowed at the stress in my voice, and language that, after I thought about it, sounded awfully suspicious. “I’ll call you later.”
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
I turned away from Gabriel and tried to lower my voice even further, but let’s face it, my boyfriend had superhearing.
“I can’t really explain. Let’s just say the words ‘Happy Valentine’s Day’ are probably going to make my eye spontaneously twitch for years to come,” I grumbled as Gabriel stared at me, his expression annoyed and somehow helpless.
“What happened?” Andrea cried.
“I don’t want to talk now,” I told her through gritted fangs as Gabriel took a subtle but deliberate step toward me, his ear cocked toward the phone. I shot him a venomous look and started into the next room.
“But I left that package on your front porch to help things along. Seriously, that outfit was flawless, practically a foolproof recipe for the perfect first Valentine’s Day as a couple. How could you screw this up?” Andrea cried, using that tone my mama used when I’d butchered a recipe.
“That was you?” I demanded, keeping my voice low. “What—why? Wh—you and I are going to have to have a serious discussion about boundaries. What the hell were you thinking?”
Her voice lowered to a slightly more contrite level. “Well, I’ve known Gabriel for a while, and he’s just not the type of guy who puts a lot of stock in relationship milestones like a first Valentine’s Day. I knew you would freak out and read a lot into it if it looked as if he forgot. And I knew he wouldn’t ask for help or accept advice on what to get you, so I thought I’d help you out. I thought he’d be so thunderstruck at the sight of you in simply stunning underwear that you wouldn’t have time to talk about where it came from.”
If she wasn’t so depressingly right, it would really piss me off that Andrea had managed to figure out my relationship before I did. No, wait, I was pissed anyway.
“We have got to get you dating again, because you clearly have too much time on your hands,” I told her. “This is not normal behavior.”
“It’s very normal behavior to want your friend to have a nice Valentine’s Day. What’s not normal is you somehow turning this into some Jane disaster. Hell, even your grandma Ruthie knows to buy lingerie on Valentine’s Day. I saw her at Victoria’s Secret the other night. She said she was getting something special for her fiancé. I thought her fiancé died.”
“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?”
