Page 27 of Blood Gift

9

Vanessa

Going to visit Mom this morning. Meet for coffee beforehand? 10:00.

I beamed, reading the text again and again. He wanted to see me.

Holden hadn’t completely scared him off.

Of course. See you then.

I kissed the screen before tossing it aside to get ready and laughed in spite of myself. If Old Me had been asked to get up and be presentable by ten in the morning, she would’ve thrown a fit and gone back to bed just on principal.

But Old Me didn’t know Gentry, either.

Then again, neither did New Me. But I wanted to. And if he looked for excuses to meet up with me, he felt the same way.

Holden was dressed and waiting when I got out of the shower.

“Coffee again?” he called out as I passed by, clutching my towel closed.

Not that I knew why I felt so self-conscious. He was nothing. He might as well have been a Ken doll, just molded plastic below the belt.

“Yes. Coffee again. And you’ll be on your best behavior.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he growled, but at least he went back to the other side of the penthouse so I could have a little privacy while I got ready.

I wondered if I could trade him in for another model. One a little less opinionated. And a little less pissy.

It was another beautiful day. Maybe it seemed more beautiful than it was because I was on my way to meet Gentry. Even the Halloween décor didn’t bother me the way it had less than a week earlier. What a shame he hadn’t shown up sooner.

He was already waiting for me when we got there, and I noticed how he pointedly ignored Holden.

“I’m glad you could make it over on such short notice,” he smiled as he leaned in to brush his lips against my cheek.

I shivered a little and hoped he didn’t think I was a fool for blushing.

“I had to clear my calendar,” I joked as we got in line.

Holden waited by the door, looking for all the world like a bouncer.

“Does he even have eyes?” Gentry muttered with a grin.

“Shh. Please. Don’t talk about him.”

Because he can hear you and he already wants to tear your throat out and throw you in the river. How do I know? Because I can feel his feelings and they’re pretty nasty.

“Oh. You’re right. It’s not my place. He’s your brother.”

“I didn’t mean it that way—but I guess you have a point,” I added. “He’s only trying to help me.”

“Understood.”

Our hands brushed against each other, and he wound his fingers around mine. I didn’t stop him. Nothing had ever felt so right. We chatted about nothing in particular as we waited for our drinks. I wanted to ask about his mother but held back, telling myself we didn’t know each other well enough yet. He would tell me about her when he was ready.

He checked the time when our drinks arrived and winced. “I’m already running a little late. I promised my brother I’d be over there at 10:30. Would it be too much if I asked you to walk to Mt. Sinai with me?”

“No, not at all.” I was glad I hadn’t worn heels, though the hospital was only two blocks away.

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