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I nodded. “Does anyone outside the family know about this pendant?” I asked. “What it really is?”
Izar blinked. “I—I don’t think so? I certainly never told anyone else.”
I nodded. “Then at least I know where to start looking.”
She looked up at me in surprise. “You—you think you can get it back?”
“I think I can try.”
* * *
CanI bring you something to look at from work?I texted Taavi at the end of the day.
Of course,he sent back.
Then I felt like a doofus for not asking if I could take him to dinner andthenask if I could show him something from work. Better late than never, right?
Can I take you out to dinner?
Then I stared at the little dots while Taavi wrote something that wasn’t just ‘yes,’ which raised my stress levels, at least until the message arrived.Can I cook for you, instead?
Oh. Well, that was good, right?
Sure. When should I come over?
More dots.Anytime you like.A pause, then more dots again.And stay as long as you want.
I wanted to stay the night. Well, I wanted to stay forever, but I’d start with the night. Even if it was a work night.Be there soon, I sent.
I swung by my apartment to feed Pet and pack a bag. Pet—who is not completely stupid, even if she is just a cat—was starting to figure out what me packing a bag meant and yowled at me repeatedly to make sure I felt nice and guilty about abandoning her, even though she had plenty of food and water and her litter was clean.
It worked, and I felt like a bad cat-parent, but I also knew I’d be back the next day. That, and my desire to see Taavi overrode my desire to make my cat happy, at least at the moment. It did make me think that next time I should offer to cook for Taavi, since then I got to both see my boyfriend and make sure Pet got plenty of attention.
I crouched down to scritch her head, earning a muffled meow into her food, and then headed out, oddly nervous, even though I’d just seen Taavi the day before.
As I made my way down the dingy hallway of his shitty building, I could smell what I assumed was his cooking, and I paused before knocking to sniff appreciatively—onions, chiles, something smokey, maybe beans and cheese? I was totally on board for more enchiladas. Taavi made fucking amazing enchiladas.
I raised my hand to knock, and the door opened, revealing Taavi in a bright purple t-shirt and jeans that hugged his hips.
He grinned at me. “I heard your footsteps,” he said, moving out of the doorway.
I stepped inside, letting my duffel fall to the floor as I pulled him to me using his belt loops, bending to kiss him. He stood on his toes and met my lips with his own, his fingers sliding to the back of my neck to hold me close as his tongue teased mine. I let out an involuntary little whimper, his hips pressed tight against me, both of us already halfway hard.
And then Taavi stepped back. “Dinner first,” he murmured when I made a sound of protest. Hunger for whatever he was making fought with hunger for the cook himself—I really could have gone either way. It did smell really good, though.
“Okay,” I agreed meekly, quashing the slight disappointment by assuring myself that I would kiss him—among other things—more thoroughly later. As Taavi returned to preparing dinner, I bent to pick up my bag and toss it beside his bed before going to lean against the doorway to the tiny kitchen. Taavi was standing beside the stove, stirring a dark sauce. “More enchiladas?” I asked.
“Enmoladas,” came the answer.
“Immoladas?” I wondered if that meant he had to set whatever it was on fire.
Taavi laughed. “En-mo-la-das. Black beans, green chiles, and cotija, wrapped in tortillas, covered inmolé negro, sesame seeds, andcrema.”
I blinked at him “I don’t know what like half of that is,” I admitted, which got me another laugh.
“Cotija is a type of cheese.Molé negrois a dark sauce, made with chilhuacle chiles, pumpkin seeds, chocolate, and spices. Andcremais… basically like a mix between sour cream andcrème fraiche.” His eyes sparkled. “I assume you know what the rest is.”
I nodded. Not that it mattered what he was making, really. It smelled fucking amazing.
