Page 87 of My Vampire Plus-One

“That’s one way of describing them.” He let out a long-suffering sigh. “ItoldReginald that if he kept behaving the way he did in the late nineteenth century there would eventually be consequences. But did he listen to me?”

He paused long enough that it felt like he was waiting for me to respond. “I’m guessing he didn’t?”

“He didn’t,” Frederick confirmed, sounding like a disappointed parent.

“And do you think they followed him here? That that’s why he disappeared?”

“I’m not certain,” Frederick said. “But I believe it is entirely possible his strategy of using your fake relationship, and Wisconsin, to hide from his pursuers has stopped working.”

Frederick’s words were a punch in the gut. I reminded myself it made no sense to be hurt. Why did it matter that he’d had an ulterior motive for going along with this fake dating ruse? Hadn’t the whole point of my suggesting it in the first place been to hide, too?

But somehow, thisfeltdifferent. I’d never misled him about why I was doing this. Or jeopardized his safety, the way it sounded like he may have jeopardized mine.

Frederick must have picked up on something in my silence because his next words were conciliatory. “He cares about you,” he said. “He’d probably stake me on the spot if he knew I was telling you this, especially since I don’t think he’s even admitted it to himself. But I have known Reginald for over three hundred years. Whatever his reasons for beginning this arrangement with you might have been, it is obvious to me it has become so much more.”

I closed my eyes, letting Frederick’s words wash over me. My emotions were a complicated tangle, with joy that Reggie cared for me jumbled up with fear over his safety—as well as some mild panic at the realization that I cared for him, too.

“I firmly believe everything will eventually work out just fine,” Frederick continued, his tone gentle. “The buffoons chasing Reginald have been at it on and off for nearly one hundred and fifty years. It’s taken them all this time to find him, despite the man being as inconspicuous as a fireworks display. They are delusional, ineffectual idiots.” And then, as if he’d sensed the earlier direction of my thoughts, he added, “Additionally, please know that you’re in no danger. You’re not who they’re after. Even if you were, they cannot enter your home if you don’t invite them inside.”

That was reassuring. “If Reggie gets in touch with you, please call me right away.”

“I will,” Frederick promised. “In the meantime, try not to worry.”

So much easier said than done.

•••••••

Time slowed to a crawlafter I got off the phone with Frederick. I tried distracting myself by catching up on work emails, but to my immense frustration, I was way too frazzled to focus on the latest missives from the Wyatt Foundation. How was itpossiblethat the last foreign return they’d filed had been for an ironworks in Milan in 1923?

I’d have to figure that out when I got back to Chicago. I didn’t have the wherewithal to think about it right then.

In the meantime, I checked the weather forecast. It often took days for snowplows to dig out this part of the state, but when I saw that the forecast had temperatures rising into the fifties by thenext afternoon, I breathed a huge sigh of relief. Warmer weather wouldn’t melt all the snow overnight, but the major streets would likely be drivable by tomorrow.

That meant I could hopefully be out of there soon, and go to wherever Reggie might be.

I ran to my bedroom and started throwing the handful of things I’d unpacked back into my suitcase. I’d keep an eye on road conditions online and leave the second it seemed safe enough to drive.

When night fell and there was still no word on Reggie, I was so frantic for distraction that I started reading an e-book Sophie had gifted me shortly after Reggie and I entered our arrangement. It was calledThe Date Who Was Fake—until He Wasn’t, by an author I still couldn’t believe wasactuallynamed Vixxen Stampede. When Sophie sent it, I’d rolled my eyes at how obvious she was being, but right then it seemed a good alternative to anxiously pacing the cabin.

I had just gotten to the part of the book where Cynthia and Rafe, the two fake dating protagonists, had finally kissed for real, when my phone rang. I leapt for it.

“Reginald is fine,” Frederick said right away when I answered. “He sent word through secure channels that The Collective found him outside your parents’ cabin, but that he succeeded in giving them the slip.” He cleared his throat. “He told me to tell you that, quote,I left to lure those assholes away from you and your house and have been losing my fucking mind trying to find a pay phone to call you ever since, end quote.”

Dizzying relief swept through me. He was okay. He’d wanted to let me know why he left, but couldn’t. “Did he say anything else?”

Frederick hummed his assent. “Reginald also wants you toknow that he is incredibly sorry for leaving you alone without saying goodbye, and that he only did it out of concern for your safety.” A long pause. “He also said that leaving you when he did is one of the hardest things he’s ever done. He placed special emphasis on the wordhardest, but out of concern for my own sanity, I refuse to analyze why that might be.”

My cheeks flamed at the double entendre. “Is he hurt?”

“He’ll eventually be fine,” Frederick said. “Most of the harm done to him was to his ego. There was an in-air run-in with a flock of Canada geese that he didn’t say much about, but I suspect they’re what kept him from reaching out sooner.”

“So he really can fly, then?”

“Yes,” he confirmed. “I’m surprised Reginald hasn’t boasted about what an excellent flier he is. When The Collective accosted him, he simply took to the air.”

Wow. It must be incredibly convenient to be able to do that. Realizing I still had almost no idea what was normal for vampires, I asked, “Can all vampires fly?”

“No,” he said tersely. “I cannot fly.”

---