Sherry frowned, considering her thoughts. As far as she knew, she didn’t run around having insulting thoughts.
“You are shaking your head. You cannot think of anything insulting you might have thought?” he asked, and when she shook her head again, he nodded. “We are often not even aware of it.” He hesitated for a moment and then said, “Okay, you walk into the office, or in your case, your store, one of the girls comes in looking a little peaked, gray-faced, bags under their eyes, etcetera . . . Have you really never thought, ‘Wow, she looks like hell’?”
Sherry bit her lip. She actually had thought that. She never would have said it, of course, but she had thought it.
“Or you have never looked at someone and thought they have put on a couple pounds, or those pants make their behind look huge?”
Sherry grimaced. Yes, she’d thought that.
“Or, you are training a new employee and she seems slow to learn, you briefly lose your patience and think, ‘Good Lord, she is so dense sometimes,’ before you take a breath and try again?”
“Ah,” Sherry breathed on a sigh.
“Or you think someone’s laugh sounds like nails on chalkboard. Or someone is humming off-key and you think they are tone deaf. Or—”
“I get it,” Sherry interrupted, and grimaced as she admitted, “Yes, I guess I probably have thoughts that could be considered insulting, and more often than I realized.”
“You do not mean them as insulting. They are your thoughts, after all, no one can hear them,” Basil said quietly.
“But immortals can,” Sherry said on a sigh. “I guess that would make it hard to live with one.”
“It is a little more complicated than that,” Basil said quietly. “Younger immortals usually cannot read older immortals if we are guarding our thoughts, but it is impossible to constantly guard your thoughts. Well, not impossible, but it is stressful and that guard can slip. And of course, mortals cannot read immortals, but they also do not guard their own thoughts at all, and being constantly bombarded with stray thoughts, insults, and fantasies can be exhausting.”
“I can imagine,” Sherry said quietly, bit her lip anxiously and then asked, “But you cannot read my thoughts, right? Or can you now? Stephanie can now.”
“No, I cannot read you,” Basil assured her. “Which makes you the most restful person in Casey Cottage.”
“Restful?” Sherry asked with a wince. That sounded about as sexy as snot.
Basil chuckled at her expression. “Believe me, it makes you the most attractive woman in the world. I can relax with you, Sherry. Usually the only time I can relax is when I am alone, but being alone is . . . well, lonely,” he said dryly. “It is nice to be able to enjoy company without having to be on my guard. I have not enjoyed that since Acantha.”
“Acantha?” Sherry asked. “Where is that?”
“Acantha is not a place, she was my first life mate,” he said quietly.
“Your first life mate?” she asked with surprise. “So I’m not the first?”
“No,” he said solemnly. “I was fortunate enough to meet a life mate while I was quite young. Sadly, I did not have her long.”
“What happened to her?” Sherry asked.
“Atlantis fell six months after we were mated. She did not survive.” He was silent for a moment and then added, “Acantha was a teacher. The school where she taught exploded during the first quake that hit. She was caught in the flames and . . .” He swallowed and then explained, “For some reason the nanos make us very flammable. She did not have a chance.”
“I’m sorry,” Sherry said quietly.
“As am I,” he said solemnly, and admitted, “At the time, it felt like the end of the world, and I am ashamed to admit it, but I basically sat down and . . .” He shrugged. “I was not exactly motivated to struggle to survive. I would have died there with everyone else, but for Lucian. He basically dragged me out of Atlantis, me and our brother Jean Claude both, though I do not know where Lucian found the will or desire to live himself. He lost not only his life mate in the fall, but his children as well.”
“That’s awful,” Sherry murmured.
“Yes.” Basil sighed the word and then glanced her way with a wry smile. “And this is some terribly depressing conversation. Besides, it all happened a very long time ago. We have all had more than three thousand years to grieve the loss of Atlantis and all those who died with it, family and friends, home, a life that can never be replicated.”
Sherry nodded and peered down at their entwined hands, trying to think of another topic, something less depressing to discuss. After a moment she said, “If Atlantis was that advanced back then, imagine how much further ahead it would be now.”
“Hmmm,” Basil murmured, and then pointed out, “On the other hand, they might eventually have found a fix for the nano issue and then I would not be here to meet you.”
She nodded silently at that, acknowledging it was true. She hadn’t known the man long, but she was definitely glad to have met him . . . so far.
“So . . . why a kitchenware store?” Basil asked suddenly.