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I knew I should probably leave him to get ready for the day or go back to sleep, but I didn’t want to.
“Hey, I saw Corva in Deep Brew,” I told him. “She invited me out for drinks sometime soon.”
Greid set the candle on his nightstand and smiled at me. “That’ll be nice.”
“She said she’ll invite some of her other friends, which makes me a little nervous.”
He frowned. “Why?”
I shifted uncomfortably. “Because… I don’t know, they’ll be all sophisticated and worldly like her. I don’t want them to think I’m a bumpkin.”
Greid’s face grew uncharacteristically hard. “If they treat you badly because you don’t eat at fancy restaurants or wear designer clothes or whatever, they’re not worth your time.”
I could tell I’d hit a nerve, so I shook my head. “No, I didn’t mean that. I don’t think Corva is like that. I can’t speak for her friends, though. I just meant, like… I can’t contribute any stories of wild exploits when I was younger or past long-term partners or even going to high school or college. Unless I want to tell them about living in a sex cult that worshipped demiurgus for most of my life, it’s like I materialised out of thin air at thirty-five and have never experienced anything.”
Greid’s yellow eyes softened as he reached out to squeeze my knee with long fingers. “You don’t have to tell them anything you don’t want to, Beryl. You could just say you were homeschooled and had strict parents. Or… I don’t know, you were a deep-sea fisher so spent years living on a boat.”
I laughed, covering his hand with mine. Greid always managed to make me feel better. “Yeah. I’ll think of something.”
“I don’t think…” Greid flipped his hand to lace his fingers through mine. “I don’t think many people would judge you, Beryl, if you did tell them the truth. You didn’t join the cult of your own free will. You were forced to grow up there. No decent person would blame a child for the circumstances they had to endure.”
I swallowed thickly, squeezing his hand tighter. “Maybe. But I don’t think I want people to know. I still stayed there when I could have left.”
Greid shook his head. “Beryl—”
“I don’t want to think about the cult,” I interrupted, tone overly cheerful. “Shall I make us some breakfast?”
“It’s okay, I’ll do it.” Greid yawned and let go of my hand to pick up his coffee cup, pouting when he realised it was empty.
I laughed. “You’re going to cook breakfast?”
He gave me a mock glare. “I’m capable of toasting bagels and spreading cream cheese over them.”
“Are you though?” I said dryly, remembering the other morning when I’d gone into the kitchen and found crumbs and cream cheese smeared over the counter beside the container, which had been left uncovered and out of the fridge. A cream cheese-coated knife had been poised over the edge of the sink, which Greid did when he wasn’t sure if he’d want to come back and make more.
He narrowed his eyes at me, then adopted a big, bright smile. “Hey, you know how we were talking about pets last night?”
“Uh, yeah…” I said slowly, confused by the abrupt topic shift.
He grinned at me wider. “I was thinking. I’ve always wanted a pet tarantula.”
I went perfectly still. “Don’t you dare.”
“You said you like cats, right?” He snickered. “Well they’re basically just like cats, but with more legs. Still furry and cute.”
“They’re not ‘furry’, they’re hairy. And if you think they’re like cats, why do you want one? You don’t trust cats.”
He made a face. “Well, they’re like if cats stayed in an enclosure and didn’t do anything annoying.”
“They can bite.”
“Cats can bite.”
“They… they move too fast.”
“Cats move fast.”
“Greid, if you keep a tarantula in here, I am never coming back in your room again.”
