kitchen, began to consolidate rice boxes and toss the empties.
“Yes, I can tell by your relaxed tone and chill manner.”
She looked up, misery in her eyes, and it broke my heart a little. I went to her—taking boxes on the way—and put them on the counter.
“Lulu. Talk to me.”
She looked at me for a minute, then took my hand. “Come with me,” she said and pulled me through the kitchen, the dining room, into the small front parlor with its fireplace and bookshelves. “Look.”
She hadn’t given me the chance to object, but I had no idea what I was looking for, or ought to have seen. “The couch is nice?” It was low and boxy, covered in emerald-green velvet.
Lulu muttered, stalked to the bookshelves, pointed. “Look,” she said again.
Confused, but trusting, I walked closer, looked at the books, the titles. They included The Care and Feeding of Vampires and The Official Guide to Vampire Etiquette.
Connor had been reading about the care and feeding of vampires. And since that had been on his screen, he must have had both electronic and paper copies of the book. While I knew there was no chance in hell he’d willingly follow formal vampire etiquette, that he cared enough to look into it made my heart flutter a little.
But I didn’t think that was the point, so I looked back at her, watched as she settled onto velvet cushions.
“I think Connor might be loaded,” I said quietly, sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of her.
“Shifter money,” Lulu said. “They’re quiet about it, but they’ve got plenty. They rarely buy anything but beer, bikes, and leather.”
Saving plenty for lush town houses, I thought, but didn’t say it aloud. “So what’s wrong?”
It took a moment of silence, another wiping of tears I knew she didn’t like to shed around people. “I feel like life is just . . . moving around me. I’m scraping by to make a living as an artist, and you’ve got this legitimate OMB job—or did before they put you on leave. Connor, the prince of werewolves, is mad about you, and I just got dumped.”
She crossed her arms. Not petulance, but protection. A shield. Lulu had always been more private than me. More gregarious, but still holding something back. That was, I thought, the reason she cut her hair the way she did. The shoulder-length bob, one side always falling across her face. It was another shield.
“You guys have your own vibe, and I feel very much apart from it.” She held up a hand. “That’s not a complaint about you. It’s fine that you have people, and I know you’d include me more if I wanted to be part of the shenanigans.”
“I would.”
“But I don’t have that kind of group. Growing up, I was too Sup for the humans, not Sup enough for the sorcerers. And Mateo . . . That was new and exciting and I really like him. And he’s part of this cool art collective, and I’m thinking, ‘These are my people!’ And then he dumps me, and there goes my plan for community building and gallery openings.”
I sat with that for a minute. “Is that why you wanted to have the potluck? For community building?”
“Yeah,” she said with a sigh. “It was.”
“It was a good potluck. A good party. I’m glad your artsy friends were gone before the vampires showed up.”
“No shit.”
“As to the rest of it, do you want comfort, commiseration, or contradiction?”
She half laughed, which I thought was better than nothing. “Right now, commiseration.”
“So, when I came back from Paris, I was lost. Everything I was going to be, everything I was supposed to be, was back there. I had to find myself all over again—and still am. You gave me a place to stay—a home,” I amended. “The OMB gave me a job. Connor gave me . . . understanding.”
“And Hot Boy Summer.”
I snorted. “And Hot Boy Summer. And then I got fired and someone tried to kill Connor today. Someone who thinks we’re friends, that I’ve maybe never met, tried to take Connor’s life to win some kind of favor with me.”
“This commiseration is becoming depressing.”
“Yeah, this week has been a lot.” I looked over at her, found her looking back, and offered my hand. “Circumstances are going to be shitty as long as people exist on this planet. But you’ve got family to help you through. You’ve got me.”
She took my hand. Squeezed. “Okay,” she said. “You can move to comfort.”