she decided to call home, getting an earful about the interesting criminal dynamics to be found there.
I looked through all the knick-knacks scattered around Melody's home, hearing little stories about which countries she'd bought them in, what job she'd been on when she picked them up.
It was much like back in Zagori. But instead of tiptoeing around the budding feelings between us, we were openly facing them, talking about them, analyzing them.
There was nothing sexy about calendars and work schedules, but there was something undeniably exciting in sitting down and hashing out the details on how we were going to make this work. How much time we would spend in New Jersey, how much in Greece, what would happen if she was called on a job.
"You're going to need to relax that jaw," she demanded when she brought up the topic. "Like it or not, I am going to keep working. If you wanted a woman barefoot in your kitchen until the end of time, you shouldn't have decided to catch feelings for me."
To that, my lips curved upward a bit.
I appreciated her drive.
I respected her desire to have a career, even if it wasn't necessary for her anymore. She wouldn't need to work once that check cleared for her most recent job for me. But I understood that work could become a part of you, that you wouldn't feel like yourself anymore if you didn't have it.
Even if the idea of her particular job put a pit of uncertainty in my stomach.
Especially after having heard how dangerous some of those jobs had been.
"What happens if, some day down the road, you decide you are ready to have children?" I asked. If it were up to me, we'd start immediately. But she was younger. She had time to decide.
"Obviously, I would not be putting myself in dangerous situations if I were pregnant. And, well, after that... I would have to give that some thought," she admitted. "I don't foresee myself ever not working. But I can see slowing down, or only taking jobs I knew would be safe."
"Like getting Fenway out of some new international mishap?"
"Exactly," she agreed, giving me a smile. "I still haven't figured out how I am going to make him pay for his involvement in kidnapping me."
"No?" I asked, reaching up to grab her, pulling her down onto my lap. "Because I think I am going to deliver him an entire lifetime supply of that Greek wine he was looking for."
I would never stop owing him and Bellamy.
But I figured we had a lifetime to pay them back for getting us together.
Miller - 2 weeks
"Go home," I demanded, leaning out the front door, calling to Lincoln who I knew would much rather be home with Gemma than babysitting me.
"We still haven't been able to put a pin in Chernev," he objected, shaking his head. "Until we find him, this is necessary."
It was overkill.
Seeing as I was sleeping with Greece's scariest man.
"Are you sure about that? Because I hear Gemma is making that soup you like so much." I knew it because I overheard him on the phone with her earlier, begrudgingly telling her he wouldn't be home to enjoy it. "And homemade bread," I added, digging the knife in. I left out the fact that I was also making that same bread since texting Gemma to ask for the recipe.
"You're evil, Mills," he declared, voice sounding pained. If there was one thing I was starting to understand about men, it was that Cora was right; they were happiest when they were fed.
"Go home, Lincoln. We are eating dinner and then turning in too. We will set the alarm. We have weapons. We're fine." He was wavering, but only a little bit. "Quin left early last night too," I told him, shrugging.
"He did?"
"Yeah, Aven wanted him home. He knew we had it covered. Go home to your woman."
Half an hour later, he did just that, while Christopher and I ate our homemade bread that we used to sop up the sauce on a baked macaroni dish I had found on Pinterest to try out.
"What's the matter?" he asked as I stood at the sink, rinsing off the plates before sticking them in the dishwasher, making me realize I had let out the grumble I had felt on the inside.
"There's one very serious matter we have forgotten to discuss," I informed him, voice grave as I turned to face him, leaning back against the counter.
"What's that?" he asked,