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“Attempt to sound nothing like the Romans?” I countered.
“No, I was actually in Rome, and I was saying, ‘y’all,’ “ he said. “It was hard to blend into the crowd. While I was traveling, I did my best to get rid of my accent—and the use of ‘y’all.’ Happy now?”
“No, there’s still stuff that I don’t know about you, like what was your dog’s name when you were a kid? What was the first book you can remember reading? What was your favorite food before you were turned? Did you like pancakes? What’s your favorite movie made after 1970? Don’t say Scarface. Please don’t say Scarface.”
“Bridges of Madison County.”
“What?”
“Fine, that was a lie. I enjoyed Edward Scissorhands.”
“Really, a loner with a dangerous condition that keeps him at arm’s length from most people,” I teased. “Don’t see that at all.”
“Would it have made you happier if I said Rocky?” he groused. “What’s your favorite movie, oh, protector of cinematic integrity?”
“Whatever is readily available and has Gerard Butler in it,” I told him. “Except for P.S. I Love You. Even I have standards. Well, the incompatible movie choices cinch it. Gabriel, as a couple, I’d say we’re doomed.” I shook my head sadly.
“I hope that’s not true,” he said, grinning. “I have long-term plans for you.”
“Really?” I asked, and immediately cringed at the astonishment in my voice.
“Of course I do,” he said, his eyes narrowed. “Don’t you think of me when you imagine where you’ll be in the next century or so? Don’t I factor into your plans?”
I ducked my head and concentrated on the patterns in the rug. “Yeah, but it’s different. I’ve never been a vampire without you. But you, you’ve been at this for so long. You know how vampire relationships play out. I don’t. And you know how to get along without me. Sometimes I wonder …”
“Wonder what?”
“I wonder when you’re going to get tired of me,” I said. “I mean, this can’t last forever, right? For me, nothing this good lasts forever. And we don’t have any sort of … we haven’t really talked about the long term … I’m going to stop talking now.”
Gabriel opened his mouth to protest, then snapped it shut. After a few moments’ consideration, he blurted out, “Is this because I haven’t said that I love you?”
“No,” I said, caught off guard enough to gape at him a little. “Are vampires even capable of love?”
“Jane, that hurts me,” he said.
“It shouldn’t. I honestly have no idea. I love my parents, I love Zeb. I love Aunt Jettie. But I had those emotions before I was turned. How do I know they aren’t just residual echoes of what I felt when I was human? I was never in love with a man as a human. I’m not sure I would recognize the feeling. I really like you. Does that help?”
He made a face.
“Have you ever been close to getting married?” I asked. “Do you want to get married?”
He grinned down at me. “Is that a proposal?”
I ignored him. “Are we even able to get married? Legally?”
“No, not yet,” he said. “If a vampire was married before being turned, and the spouse is still human, the marriage is still legal and valid. It took the council nearly two years of lobbying Congress to accomplish that. We’re still working on establishing after-death rights for vampires. We are technically dead, so the hard-line conservatives insist that we don’t have the right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Marriage, adoption, voting—”
I gasped. “We can’t vote?”
“You didn’t notice that in November? During the election?”
“Of course I did, because I vote …” I protested. “OK, fine, I didn’t even try to vote. I forgot. I’m a horrible person.”
He shrugged, patting my head. “Well, you had to have flaws. You don’t vote or have tact or have control over most of your gross motor functions—”
“OK, stop that,” I said, pinching his arm. “And stop trying to get out of talking about your marriage feelings. Have you ever been close to getting married?”
“Yes,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “Her name was Mary Louise Early. Her parents were dear friends of my parents. My father wanted access to their pasture land. It was a good match.”
