away since he hasn’t, then backtrack to the foyer. “Want to see the bedrooms?”
“Thought you’d never ask, Mademoiselle de Morel.”
I roll my eyes even though he can’t see me doing it since I have my back to him.
Since Adrien’s still on the phone, it’s just Slate and me traipsing around.
“You should really put your coat back on.” I peel it off my shoulders and try to hand it back, but he moves off, his gaze scouring every inch of his parent’s bedroom, from the bare mattress to the carved headboard, to the wooden trunk at the base of the bed bearing the initials E.H.
He lifts the lid, and dust puffs out. Coughing, he swats the air until it clears. Inside are neat stacks of yellowed linens hemmed with fancy embroideries.
“Want to grab dinner after this?” I don’t know where that came from. Just popped out of my mouth while I was scrutinizing a black-and-white picture of the university.
The lid of the trunk bangs shut. “Are you asking me out on a date?”
Heat flares anew through me. “Not a date. Just a friendly dinner.”
He chuckles. “At the tavern?”
“Or at my house. I’m sure there’s a hot meal waiting for us.”
“I really need a house elf.”
“House elf?” I spin around, and the beam of my phone scrapes across his throat and black button-down.
“Nothing. And yes, I’d love to go out with you, Cadence, but let’s go to La Taverne. Not in the mood to dine by candlelight with your papa. Three’s a crowd.”
“It’s not a date.”
He smiles at me. “Uh-huh.”
“You are so—”
“Alluring?”
“Don’t make me regret suggesting dinner.”
He slings his arm around my shoulders and pivots me back toward the hallway. “I noticed one more door on this floor.”
I know where it leads. “Why don’t you save it for another visit?”
He grips the knob and twists it, and since his arm is still around my shoulders, when he comes to a stop, so do I. His phone’s light splashes over the navy crib with the planet mobile, the four hand-painted wooden letters sitting on a shelving unit full of colorful board books, and the purple-and-blue galaxy wallpaper that’s bloated on one wall from a recent leak.
I crane my neck to look at him. Only his eyes move. The rest of him has turned solid. Even his lips, usually supple, are pressed into a firm line. I thread my fingers through the hand he’s set on my shoulder and squeeze. The gesture brings him back to life. The lines on his face soften first and then the rest of his body follows.
“Is it weird that I’m jealous of this kid?” His voice is so scratchy it makes my heart churn.
I shoot him a smile, which he doesn’t catch because he’s staring at the R, E, M, and Y on the bookshelf. I let him look his fill and then squeeze his hand again before releasing it. “Come on. Let’s go shower the ghost gunk off ourselves and get some food in our bellies.”
His Adam’s apple jostles as he gazes around the bedroom one last time. “Are we talking shared bathing?”
I duck out from underneath his arm. “You just never stop.”
“There are two surefire ways to get a woman: wooing her and wearing her down. Since you keep objecting to being wooed, I’ve elected to wear you down.”
I raise an eyebrow. “I have so much to say about that, but first, when and how have you tried to woo me?”
“I bought you dinner.”
“You mean, after you called me a teenage librarian and left me sitting alone at a table?”
“You looked like you’d rather have been sitting with someone else.” He’s asking me about Adrien and my unrequited crush. A question I obviously can’t answer when the man in question is standing a floor below us, tapping his powered-off phone against his thigh and staring up.
“You two ready to go?”
I nod slowly. “We’ll be out in a minute.”
Still drumming his phone, he jets out of the house.
I turn on Slate, my hands slipping onto my waist. “Okay . . . so let me spin that question around. Why would you hit on me when you’re into someone else?”
He crosses his arms in front of his chest, creasing the black cotton. “I’m into someone else? Who am I into?”
“The girl you saw in the well. I know you keep saying you don’t love her, but you obviously feel strongly about her if she’s the person who appeared.”
A thick curl falls into his eyes.
“Is she the type you