Page 69 of Grumpy Puck

“Yes,” Michael says when we’re alone again.“I do want you to move in.”

I squeeze my breakfast quesadilla so hard a glob of Monterey Jack Cheese drips onto my plate.Wolfgang swoops in and wolfs it down.

Meine Liebe, tell him you’ll move in if he can guarantee that every day will start with this much premium cheese.

I clear my throat.“Don’t you think us shacking up is moving our relationship—or whatever this is—a bit too fast?”

He frowns.“Who says ‘shacking up’ these days?”

“Moving in is a serious step,” I say, ignoring the jab.

“I’m not asking you to move in because we’re dating.”He picks up his spoon and stabs it into his unappetizing-looking bowl of plain oats.“It’s to keep you safe.”

Huh.Did I misunderstand?My pits begin to sweat.“So… we’re not dating?”

His eyes gleam.“Of course we are.Didn’t we establish that last night?”

Whew.That would’ve been embarrassing to get wrong.And more than a little disappointing.“You said ‘exceptions can be made,’” I remind him.“That’s not exactly?—”

“Calliope,” he says somberly.“I have a big announcement I’d like to make.Pay attention, please.”

I blow out my breath.“Okay, okay, I get it?—”

“Will you do me the honor of dating me?”he says in that same tone.“For real this time?”

Fuck.Now that the question is out, I feel a full-fledged panic, which is very stupid, considering how badly I wanted it a second ago.

“I’ll date you under one condition,” I blurt.“You meet my family next Friday.”

The logic—if there’s any to this madness—is that if he can’t handle the lunacy that is my family, it’s better to know now.It’s early enough that my heart won’t be in danger.Too much danger, at least.

Yes.I can’t believe I didn’t think of this idea sooner.

Michael stares at me.“Isn’t ‘meeting the parents’ also a step that happens much further on in relationships?”

“Sometimes,” I say.“In our case, my family thinks we’ve been dating all this time.Except for my sister Seraphina, who knows the truth—but she kept saying we’d end up together anyway.Meeting them all will clear the air.”Or put a nail in the coffin of this relationship.

“Okay.I’ll meet the Klaunbuts.”He pronounces my last name in the German fashion I invented.

I sigh.“It’s fine.You can say ‘clown butts.’Even to their faces.That’s what they go by.”

He nods, then looks out the window, eyes widening.

At first, my heart sinks as I picture the stalker spelunking into our room.

But this isn’t that.

It’s a bird sitting on a windowsill.

A gorgeous specimen with a blue-gray back, white underpants, and a black head.

“That’s a peregrine falcon,” Michael says reverently.

Ah, right.He’s a bird watcher.But… “What’s it doing here in Manhattan?”

Until now, I thought big cities only had two types of birds—pigeons and sparrows—but this is neither of those.

Michael fishes out his phone and takes a picture.“I’ve heard of people spotting them here.We’re very lucky.”

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