"The smell didn't disturb you, did it?" she asked. "I shut the door and tried to keep quiet."
He said nothing.
"So...breakfast?" she said. "Even if it's the opposite of actual breakfast time."
He checked the clock on the microwave. Dim light filtered through the window, and he realized the sun was setting, not rising.
"Is everything okay?" she asked, concern creeping in.
He turned and saw her again. Olivia naked, wearing his shirt. She'd said something about breakfast, but he hadn't quite caught it. He nodded and walked toward her. She set down the spatula with a growing frown.
"Is everything okay?" she asked.
He put his hands on her hips and boosted her onto the counter. Then he stepped between her knees, his fingers going to her hair, murmuring, "Everything's fine," before showing her how fine it was.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
After breakfast, we went outside. Yes, it was a December evening, and in Illinois that is not "take your coffee into the garden" weather. We didn't care. We had blankets and a garden fireplace, and the fenced yard kept the wind at bay.
It also gave me the excuse to get close to Gabriel, followed by the realization I didn't need an excuse. Whenever I'd thought of a relationship with him, I'd always presumed there'd still be a barrier, that he'd be the kind of guy who didn't encourage intimacy outside the bedroom. Yet even before tonight, I'd seen signs that maybe his general distaste for physical contact no longer extended to me. Now, he was the one settling in on the ground with the blanket, his arm lifting for me to curl up beside him, his arm around my waist, holding me close.
I buried my feet under Lloergan's warm bulk. "If I buy this place, I might replace the deck with a conservatory. It would give me winter sun and semi-outdoor living space. What do you think?"
As usual, he didn't point out that it was my house and I could do as I pleased. It was like when we went shopping for his new living room suite and after we chose one, the clerk handed me the paperwork, presuming we were a couple. Which we had been, in our way, long before tonight.
"A conservatory would be a better use of the space," he said.
"We could--" I bit off the words. "And I should stop there, or it'll make it that much harder to say no to the Tylwyth Teg."
"I've been compiling a list of alternatives."
"Ways to keep the house if I turn down the Tylwyth Teg? That won't work. For them, it'd be like having your future executioner living down the street."
"I don't believe it would be quite so dramatic, but I meant a list of alternative houses, in Chicago and the surrounding area. The same basic style, with the elements you like. I have three possibilities so far."
"Let's just hope they're still on the market when I make my decision."
"They aren't on the market. In one case, the current homeowner is elderly and finding upkeep difficult. In another, a young couple took on too heavy a mortgage and are struggling with payments. The third has recently suffered a serious financial blow. With a generous offer, any of the three would likely sell."
Because all three were in a position where, even though they might not want to move, a good offer would be too tempting to refuse. One might say that was predatory. To Gabriel, it was simple practicality. He'd done his research and found me these alternatives. It was another gift. If he proposed cheating these people out of their homes, I would argue. But he wouldn't. He'd suggest a fair--if cold--bargain that would push the homeowners to a choice they'd have to make eventually.
So I said, sincerely, "Thank you. That helps. But I do need to make that choice soon. The problem is that I don't even know how to begin."
"You shouldn't have to."
I shifted under his arm. "I keep thinking that, and then I feel like a two-year-old stomping her feet and shouting that it isn't fair. Why me? Why Matilda? What did she do to deserve this?"
"Gwynn caused the problem, and Matilda is forced to resolve it."
"I don't mean--"
"The schism began when he made the pact with Arawn and then broke it, only to worsen matters by not confessing to either wronged party."
"They all shoulder their share of the blame."
"But not equal shares. By far the smallest portion goes to Matilda, whose only fault seems to lie in the fact she chose a lover. Which is her right."
"Maybe it's not that she was wrong to choose--it's that she did choose and so she needs to do it again. Not a punishment but a responsibility. I--"