Every other weekend I flew home to New York, and every third week I spent the entire week there. It wasn’t all just fun and hot sex, mind you. I had a job to do within the pack, and also had to keep up my work with the FBI in a visiting position with the New York office.
They loved my former connection to the East Coast Tribunal, because it meant they had an in with the most powerful vampires in New York.
Desmond wasn’t a big fan, since it involved semi-regular visits with Holden, who was now on the Tribunal. Though my romance with Holden was over, he had told me once in no uncertain terms that he would love me until I was nothing but a fading memory to others. So yeah, I could see how my hubs might not like me spending time with a guy who would probably try to steal me away at any opportunity.
Thing is, in a case like that, you have to want to be stolen. I had loved Holden painfully, and I loved him to this day, but I had made my choice, and that choice was Desmond.
Still, jealousy isn’t a logical monster.
I left the FBI building and headed out into the buttery-yellow light of the Los Angeles morning. I could go home, but right now I wanted a coffee, some sunlight, and the sound of my man’s voice.
After pulling out my phone, I ignored a missed call from—speak of the devil—Holden Chancery himself, and dialed Desmond’s cell phone instead. His was the only voice I wanted to hear at the moment. Holden would have to wait, and he was asleep right now anyway, it being morning in New York.
The line rang twice, then Desmond picked up with a deeply sexy sounding, “How’s my girl?”
“Missing you something fierce,” I said.
“You know, you could solve that by just moving home.”
I clucked my tongue at him. This was a long-standing argument between us, and one of the only things that roused real fights. He wanted me to work in New York permanently, and I didn’t think the Los Angeles unit was ready to function without me.
I also didn’t think I was ready to function without Los Angeles.
“Let’s not go there.” I tried to keep my tone light. He gave a small sigh, and I suspected he would very much like to get into it right now, but I would be home in a week if he wanted to make a big deal out of things.
“How’s your morning?” he asked instead.
“Oh, you know, the usual. Just got off work, stopped an apocalypse, unleashed a demon prince from Hell, wearing Tyler’s shirt.”
“Why are you wearing Tyler’s shirt?” Leave it to my husband to start with the really important details first.
“Because mine had a bunch of holes burned in it. From the hellfire.”
“I can’t tell if you’re being literal or hyperbolic.”
In fairness to him, this was a weird job and I was prone to hyperbole. “No, unfortunately it was the literal kind.”
“Wouldn’t Emilio’s shirt have fit you better?” Ah, there we go. He was having fun with this now, bless him.
“Yes, it would have, but he was off covering our asses with the Secretary of State, and I think his office is probably booby-trapped.”
“Care to tell me more about this demon-prince scenario?”
“I’d rather not at the moment.” I walked into my favorite café a few blocks from the office. I was often in here on phone calls, and the barista had learned to go ahead and make my order without waiting. She gave me a friendly nod, slipped an already warm cheese biscuit across the counter to me on a plate, and started making my latte.
I left a twenty on the counter and smiled, then took my biscuit to a table over by the window and sat in a puddle of light like a house cat.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Burned, was briefly worried the jump off the roof might have re-broken my arm, but the dumpster got the worst of it.”
There was a drawn-out pause, then he said, “You know, I haven’t brought this up in awhile, but you said after the thing with your mother we would talk about it again, and I think it’s time.”
“Desmond…”
“No, you need to listen to me for a minute before you just say no. This isn’t about moving home.”
“Well, it sort of is, isn’t it?”