Betrayals (Cainsville Book 4) (35 page)

I sputtered a laugh. “TC? You’re
really
stretching for justifications with that one.” I moved into the front parlor and sat on the sofa, which was remarkably comfortable for a boxy davenport. “I’m surprised you’re encouraging me to move in.”

“Because
the house triggers visions? Not significantly more than other locations, and I have come to accept that the elders may be correct—that it could be helpful for you to work through the visions rather than avoid them. However, I would ask that you do not stay alone until we’re certain it’s safe. I can spend the night—there’s a second bed. Or Ricky or Rose, once I have properly educated them on how to deal with your fevers.”

“You’ve worked it all out.”

He walked to the window and looked across the yard. “Last night, we talked about frivolities. I don’t believe I’m the only one who avoids them. You wouldn’t even drive the Maserati until your other vehicle was disabled.”

“By persons unknown.”

“The point, Olivia, is that all practical justifications aside, you want this house.”

When I said nothing, he looked over and after a moment said, “You want it, yet you will not accept it.” Before I could respond, he said, “Is it Ricky?”

“What?”

He walked to the corner of the Oriental carpet and bent to straighten it. “You have been together for months. I understand that, after a certain amount of time, it becomes impractical to continue moving from apartment to apartment, and cohabitation is a natural progression. Clearly, Ricky would not be comfortable living in Cainsville, nor would I advise it. His apartment is hardly suitable for two, and he is graduating this term and must give it up. If you had plans, then, to find a more permanent residence …”

“Move in together? No. That’s not happening.”

He glanced over. “Is there a problem?”

“No. We just don’t plan to move in together. That would add pressure, and it’s just … It’s not what either of us wants. We take it as it comes and take it for what it is.”

He frowned slightly, as if he didn’t understand, and I suppose a lot of people wouldn’t. If you’re in love, you should want to live together and begin that trek toward a wedding and babies. I’d been on that road before, and I was happy to step off it and just enjoy what I had, while I had it.

“So the house is simply … too much?” he said finally.

“I’m worried about the message it sends to the elders, and I’m worried about getting too comfortable.”

“That making Cainsville your home would influence your ultimate decision.”

I nodded. “Otherwise, I’d take it in a heartbeat.”

“Let’s talk about that, then.”

A
s
they walked up the stairs, Gabriel struggled to prepare his defense. Normally, that wouldn’t be a problem. Even in a prison visiting room with his client in tears, Gabriel could pretend to listen while mentally composing his opening arguments. Now, though, he was distracted. By two things.

First, he had not, evidently, committed a grievous error in preparing the house for Olivia. He knew a comment on that would be forthcoming, once she’d settled distractions in her own mind, but it did not seem it would be negative. His goal was to show Olivia that he could be what she needed in a partner. In knowing that she wanted this house, he’d proven he understood her. In readying it for her, he’d proven—he hoped—that he could be considerate and anticipate her needs.

Second, the matter of Ricky. He hadn’t considered that Ricky and Olivia might be moving toward cohabitation until she’d hesitated at the thought of moving in here. They’d been together for months. They spent most nights at one apartment or the other. Cohabitation was the next logical step. Followed by …

He tried not to consider the “followed by” part. He’d spent the last few months trying not to consider it. Yet Olivia had no intention of moving in with Ricky, much less anything else.

That gave him hope.

So why was his stomach tightening and twisting with every step up those stairs? Because hope was a dangerous thing. It said the failure would be his own fault alone.

He should be fine with that. That’s how he lived his life: control all factors and thereby accept the blame for failure. But here? Yes, here, if he failed, he wanted to be able to say he’d had no chance of success—

“Bedroom?” Olivia asked, pulling him from his thoughts. They were at the top of the stairs, six closed doors surrounding them—four bedrooms, a bath, and the attic. “I’m guessing not that one?” She pointed at the rear corner room, with the triskelion.

“Definitely not.”

“I wouldn’t want to trigger visions stumbling to the bathroom at night.”

He noticed she didn’t add
if I do move in.

He motioned to the front right door. “That appears to be the master bedroom.”

She passed him, threw open the door, and said, “Oh my God,” and ran inside, the door swinging behind her. By the time he opened it, she was in the middle of the room.

“The tower,” she said. “Obviously, I knew there was a half tower … but wow.”

There was indeed a half tower, extending up from the bay windows in the living room. In the master bedroom it formed a cupola, a semicircle of cushioned window seats with windows that reached to the ceiling, decorated with stained glass along the top.

“Reading seats,” she said. “A table for my tea. Even pillows.”

She scooped one up and surreptitiously sniffed it, as if checking for mildew.

“They’re new,” he said.

“The elders bought me pillows?”

He started to say yes, they must have. Because that was the safe answer. He was not a man who bought pillows. He was not a man who noticed that someone liked pillows. But if he was trying to show her a better side of himself, it did not behoove him to pretend the elders had bought Olivia pillows. Still, it was with no small amount of trepidation that he said, “I picked them up in the city earlier today.”

“So you
weren’t
working all morning?”

“No.”

“They’re perfect.” She turned toward the huge sleigh bed, the wood gleaming.

“You’ll want to replace the mattresses,” he said. “But that set will do for now with new bedding.”

“Which you also bought,” she said, walking over and checking through the pile, still in the plastic. “Your taste is a whole lot better than mine.”

“My budget is a whole lot higher than yours. Temporarily.”

She looked around the room, the fading sun suffusing it with a warm glow. “Wow. Just wow. I’m going to keep saying that. In case you’re wondering about the thank-you part, I’m waiting until after the tour, or I’m just going to keep saying that, too, and making you very uncomfortable.”

Which was not untrue. His thanks came from her expression and the glow in her eyes.

“There are bookshelves in the attic,” he said, “but I thought you might prefer them in whichever bedroom you choose as an office. I’d suggest the one with the triskelion. It has the best light.” She popped back into the hall and waved at the other front room. “That’s your room, then?”

“The spare bedroom,” he corrected.

“The only person who’d sleep in it is you. Unless I kick Ricky out of bed.”

She laughed at that, suggesting the number of times that had happened—or was likely to happen—was zero. Regrettably.

Olivia zipped into the spare room. Gabriel followed, more slowly this time. He had considered taking another, perhaps the small, dark one beside it. The second front bedroom, while it lacked the half tower, was still big and airy, with oversized windows and stained glass. It seemed, yes, frivolous to put a bed in there.

He could tell himself he was selecting a guest room—not
his
room—and that’s why he’d chosen the better one. But Olivia was right that no one else would use it, and he’d decided that if it seemed not to matter which he took, he might as well take what he wanted. Which should be easy. He spent his life taking what he wanted. Olivia was correct here, too, though, that there was a difference between buying his greystone office because it best suited his needs and buying it because he liked it. Practicality versus frivolity. Logic versus emotion.

“The other two rooms are unfurnished,” he said. “There is furniture in the attic, if you decide to stay. The elders say it all comes with the house. I’ve put the table and chairs in the dining room and added basics to the kitchen—a set of dishes and cutlery, pots, a coffeemaker.”

“Gotta have the coffeemaker.”

“I thought so.”

She turned to him. “All right, then, counselor. Convince me I won’t be shooting myself in the foot if I move in temporarily.”

He gave her his argument, namely that the elders understood the purchase of the house in no way indicated she was leaning in their direction, no more than living at Grace’s did. It was the
safest arrangement. It was also a balanced one. Cainsville provided Olivia with shelter, and her living there provided the town with greater access to her than the Cŵn Annwn had.

“Do you want it?” he asked as he finished.

“Yes, but—”

“Do you honestly believe that a house, however much you like it, would make you side with the Cainsville fae if you did not believe it was the right decision?”

“No.” She took a deep breath. “I guess that answers my question.”

“It does, and having decided, I suggest we put that coffee-maker to use and step into the garden.”

“Which is going to need some serious elbow grease.”

When he said nothing, she looked over at him. “No …”

He shrugged, and she hurried down the steps, through the house to the back window. What he heard then was not quite a girlish shriek, but very close to it.

“It’s only cleared,” he said as he walked up behind her. “It’s too late for planting, but Rose said the garden ought to be put to bed properly.”

She turned and gave him a wide grin, a bouncing-on-toes, little-girl-at-Christmas grin. Then she put out her arms and said, “Can I? Just say no if—”

“You can.”

She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him, fairly strumming with excitement, and he thought,
I did it.
Also
Top that, Ricky
, and yes, he did feel a twinge of guilt, but it was a very small twinge, and really only because it was not quite sportsmanlike to compete against someone who didn’t realize there was a competition.

But Gabriel hadn’t gotten where he was by being sportsmanlike. And he did respect Ricky enough that he would never try
to seduce Olivia away in any more overt way. Which wasn’t, to be honest, a moral choice so much as the admission that, there, he would probably fail. But there was some degree of—if not morality—personal respect, the same quality that knotted his stomach when he thought about the river tunnel and the kiss. He did feel guilty about that. He really did … even if that guilt took a while to arrive, following well after other emotions that accompanied those particular memories.

“Sorry,” Olivia said. “I’ll stop hugging you now.”

You don’t have to
, he thought, but in the time it took for him to realize he could have said that, at least with a smile, she’d already backed off and the moment had passed, which was probably best. For now.

“Okay, so coffee …” She turned slowly, as if in a semi-daze, still glowing with excitement. “Is that—? That’s not a coffee-maker, Gabriel.”

“It makes cappuccinos as well, which I’m told can be used for mochas.”

“That’s … You didn’t need to …”

He tensed. Here he’d crossed the line. Here it was too much. Too extravagant.

He’d wanted to say, in the most unmistakable way,
I hear you.
That he paid attention. That changing the locks and having furniture brought down was the least she needed. The bedding and towels and dishes took it a step further, but were still basics, as a host might provide for a guest. The rest was where he really said what he wanted to say.
I know you’ll want that cupola for a reading room and you’ll want pillows. I know you’ll want to sit out in the garden while you can, without fretting that you should be clearing it for winter. I know you’d like a mocha when you sit outside or up in your reading nook. I know all this. I know you.

But
the coffee machine went a step too far. It was not merely an act of consideration. It was a gift that, while easily covered by a trip to the bank machine, was more than one friend ought to give another, and now, seeing it and thinking of all the rest, she seemed to realize that.

“First you save my life,” she said. “Now this. Racking up your side of the tally, huh? I owe you big-time now.”

His insides chilled. “You owe me nothing, Olivia. I was merely preparing the house for your possible arrival.”

She flushed. “Right. Sorry. There’s a bill. Of course. I knew that.”

More chilling, settling in the pit of his stomach. “No, this is a gift. I would hardly purchase items for you, without your consent, and expect you to repay me.”

She reddened more, stammering out an apology.

For God’s sake, Gabriel, stop being an ass. Get your back down and apologize.

She’d been smiling when she said she owed him. Teasing him, in a way that wasn’t entirely teasing because she wasn’t entirely sure. That was how relationships worked with him. Take nothing and owe nothing. Keep the balance firmly in his favor.

When he got snippy and said he was only preparing the house, she’d presumed he meant he expected her to pay, and had flushed in embarrassment at her mistake. Could he blame her for that? Before she’d come to work for him, he’d charged her for his time, a bill to be paid when her trust came in. Of course she would think he might have only been showing consideration in buying the items, to also be repaid.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“No, I—”

“I overreacted, and I was unclear regarding the nature of the gesture. It is a gift. I appreciate everything you’ve done.”
He knew he should say more, but here he struggled.
I appreciate the work you’ve done for me, at the firm?
True, but that said he’d done this for her as an employee.
I appreciate your friendship.
Also true, but when he opened his mouth to say that, the words wouldn’t come out. They were still too damning an admission.