Page 24 of My Blind Date is a Demon

“I know enough to know what a miserable old shrew you are,” he says. “And that has nothing to do with my abilities as a demon. It’s written on your face.”

His words cut, and I know it’s because they are true. I am miserable. I don’t think I’m old or a shrew, at least, I didn’t use to be. I used to be happy. I used to have fun. My husband’s death aged me a hundred years I feel like sometimes. Maybe that’s why my best friend is a three-hundred-year-old ghost.

“Hey, if you don’t like my face, don’t look at it,” I tell him. “Just get back in your cookie jar and stay there until I figure out what to do with you.”

“Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? For all your problems to just disappear.”

“Umm, yeah. Yeah, I would.”

“Well, the world doesn’t work like that, Tamzin. If you want your life to change, if you want it to get better, the only person who can do that is you.”

“I know,” I say, breathing hard, seething. “You think I don’t want to change?”

“No, I don’t,” he says. “I think you like being miserable because it’s familiar. It’s what you know. And it’s weirdly comforting.”

I stomp up to him, my finger at his chest. “You’re weirdly comforting!”

Both of us blink in surprise at my words. I didn’t mean to say that. I don’t know why I did. I was grasping for a comeback of some kind, I guess.

“I mean…” I tug on my shirt to make sure it is straight and point at him again. Will someone please let me end this argument with some amount of dignity? “You know what I mean.”

He can’t hold back his laugh. “Actually, I have no idea what you mean.”

“Yeah, well…neither do I,” I admit, exhaling and almost literally feeling the wind go out of my sails. His laughter is infectious and after a minute of laughing, I forget what we were even arguing about.

“This is so weird,” I finally say. “Have you ever had to live with humans before? Not, like, possessing them, but more like roommates?”

Damon shakes his head. “Not like this. I mean, when I’m not possessing them or torturing souls in Hell, I have spent a lot of time observing them. It makes you a better torturer if you know your subject well.”

I stop laughing and have to gulp. “Okay, well, that’s a terrifying thought. So, Hell is real?”

“Don’t worry, you have to be, like, really, really bad to get sent there. And it’s not always forever. I think the only residents there right now are Hitler and a few serial killers.”

“Umm… Thanks for the comfort?”

“Hey, that’s something you can do,” he says. “Whenever you think you are a bad mom, just remember, you aren’t bad enough to go to Hell.”

“Thanks.” I give him a light punch to the arm. “You really are weirdly comforting.”

“Thanks…I think,” he says. “So, what now?”

I check my watch. “That meeting took much too long. I have to go get Bella from school in like half an hour. Not enough time to go see Beckett at the police station.”

“Just have to take her with us, then.”

The way Damon says “us” makes my heart thump hard in my chest. It’s been a long time since I’ve been in an “us” situation with a man. I haven’t even been on a date since Mark died. I’ve never gotten through the “just talking” phase with a guy. And I get it. I mean, it’s not like I’ve recovered from the death of my husband. I have way too much emotional baggage to actually date someone new. Even just for fun. For companionship. I’m not too proud to admit that it’s because I’m afraid. I’m afraid to fall in love again. Afraid that they, too, might die. And worse—that it might be my fault. Some of my friends have suggested dating a vampire. But just because they are immortal doesn’t mean they are invincible. They can still be killed, even accidentally. What if they are building a porch swing and trip and fall onto a sharp plank? Bam! Right in the chest. And it would be my fault for asking him to build the porch swing in the first place because, let’s face it, no man is going to build a porch swing without a woman asking him to do it.

“Tamzin?” Damon snaps his fingers in front of my face to bring me back.

“Huh?” I ask him.

“You drifted off. What are you thinking about?”

“Umm… Nothing. Porch swings.” I walk past him down the stairs and gather up my stuff to pick up Bella from school.

“But, you don’t have a porch swing,” Damon says, following me.

“I know,” I say. “That’s the problem.”

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