“The bakery,” I add. “If you had it, what would you name it?”
They share a look and Dean grins but Declan looks sheepishly away.
“You can tell me,” I assure them.
“We’re undecided,” Dean says, eyes sparkling like he wants to laugh but won’t. “I want to call it Sweet On You but Declan has a better idea.”
I wait but Dean only continues to eye his brother with a teasing grin while Declan stares down at a loose thread in the blanket like it’s the most interesting thing he’s ever seen.
“Dec,” I prompt, curiosity eating at me now.
Declan glances over at me and there’s a challenge in his dark eyes. “Seriously Dough,” he says in a flat voice.
Like he’s daring me to laugh at him.
The moment he says the words, Dean lets out a snicker.
Declan glares at him. “Your idea isn’t any better, asshole.”
“I know but hearing you make a joke--a pun at that--with that murderous look on your face is just the funniest thing. People will come from all over just to hear you say the name.”
“Fuck off,” Declan says and I press my fingers to my lips as a smile forms.
Dean’s right. Declan’s non-humor with that punny name would be hysterical and now that I’ve pictured it, it’s hard not to laugh.
Declan catches my eye and grumbles, “Not you too.”
“I’m sorry,” I tell him quickly, grabbing for his hand. I squeeze it, still trying not to laugh. “But Dean’s right. It’s like one of those restaurants where the staff is mean to you on purpose--for entertainment. You’d be so perfect.”
Declan’s eyes lose some of their heat. “Is that a thing?”
“It’s a thing,” I assure him.
His expression lightens and there’s a new gleam in his eye now. He punches Dean in the shoulder. “That settles it. My idea should win.”
“Uh-huh, we’ll see about that,” Dean says but he’s laughing.
And then Declan is laughing too and then we all are.
It feels good to laugh. Lighter somehow.
Finally, we settle back into the show.
We are halfway through the third episode when someone at the door interrupts us again, and Sir barges in.
Unlike his first visit, he looks ready to snap. I think I've just bargained away bad for worse.
Declan and Dean both tense, Declan's arms tightening around me.
Sir glares at us. "Celeste, the doctor will see you now."
His words make it sound as if I’ve requested an appointment, which I haven’t, but I don’t suppose I have a choice either.
"It's okay," I say, peeling myself out of Declan's embrace, and reluctantly pulling my feet from Dean's lap. "I'll be okay."
I shrug into a sweater and slide on slippers, then follow Sir down the hall. I don't ask which doctor I'm seeing, but I say a silent prayer it's Livingstone and not Cutter.
"Where are we going?"
Sir doesn't answer or slow down, so I pick up my pace.
After a few more minutes, I realize where we're headed, and I can't help the excitement bubbling in me.
When the door is pushed open, I suck in a breath of fresh ocean air and smile.
In the distance, sitting on a bench under the sliver of moonlight in the cemetery, staring into the horizon, is Dr. Livingstone.
I half expect Sir to follow me out, but he gives me one sharp glance, then retreats behind the door, closing it after him.
Dr. Livingstone is lost in thought when I join him, our thighs grazing each other's in the narrowness of the bench.
“I didn’t expect another visit outside so soon,” I tell him.
"It seems you've negotiated with Dr. Cutter," he says with a guarded voice, his gaze still locked on the rolling waves before us.
"What do you know of this place?" I ask, using his own trick against him, diverting the conversation rather than responding directly.
Finally he looks down at me, his silver blue eyes glowing softly in the darkness. I feel a mesmerizing pull towards him and wonder if that's his vampire powers or just him. Either way, the doctor has an intoxicating effect on me that's disorienting, and I feel my pulse pick up speed at the way he looks at me.
"Le Rêve is an asylum for the supernatural, a place to heal and to cure the ailments of those cursed," he says in his clipped British accent, repeating what he’s told me before.
"That's the party line, yes. But is that really what you still believe?"
He sighs and glances down at my hand. With a tenderness that nearly breaks me, he takes my hand in his and turns