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“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?”
“No, but my family did tie me naked to a tree to wait for the sunrise,” he pointed out calmly. “We’re straying from the point.”
I stuck my head under the rapidly cooling spray. “Which is?”
“That another man is sending you underwear.”
I could let him keep wondering, I mused, rolling my eyes. I could let Gabriel think I had a secret admirer, make him jealous. After weeks of wondering where he was, what he was doing, whom he was with, he deserved it. But I’d never been that girl, the game player, the girlfriend who played by asinine “rules” laid out in the self-help book of the week. And even though it would probably make me feel better, I don’t think Gabriel pushing a tree on top of some poor guy he suspected of being my suitor would help our relationship.
“It wasn’t another man,” I huffed. “It was Andrea.”
There was a heavy silence on the other side of the curtain. “Er … that wasn’t something I was prepared for. I thought maybe it was Zeb.”
“Ew!” I cried.
“Well, he’s been acting so strange lately,” Gabriel protested. “And I don’t see how Andrea giving you sexy underthings is any less disturbing. I don’t think anyone should be buying you sexy underthings but me.”
“Well, you didn’t.” I cut the water off and snapped the curtain open. I pushed past him and snatched a towel. He grabbed my hand and pulled me to eye level with him. “Andrea felt the need to step in for you. Instead of assuming the worst, you could just talk to me, Gabriel,” I said as he followed me into my bedroom. I yanked open a dresser drawer and pulled out my flannel cow pajamas.
“Not the cow pajamas, Jane, please, there’s no reason to let this ruin our evening,” he groaned. “I’m sorry.”
