up. âPetty, jealous thoughts. You donât want to hear âem, Kenna.â
Oh-ho-ho? I blinked at this and stopped on the sidewalk so I could loop my arms around Christopherâs waist. Two months this man had been my boyfriend, and he was still surprising me. âWait, what? What in Godâs name do you have to be jealous about?â
Christopher humored me, wrapping his arms around me in turn, though the gaze he turned down to meet mine was an unhappy one. âHe clung to you like you were his last hope,â he said, âand I didnât care for that, much.â
My face fell as I went still in Christopherâs embrace. âNeither did I,â I admitted. With that gaze of his upon me, dark against the wan October morning, I could offer nothing less than absolute honesty. âHe scares me. Showing up out of nowhere like that, and who knows what the Queen did to him? And then Melisanda shows up out of the blue, andââI flailed one hand about, seeking words that refused to let me voice them, and I had to finish weaklyââand everything else happened. And all I can think is how theyâre Momâs people, how I got that blood, and am I going to turn out like that someday?â
âIf you can ask that question, lass,â said Christopher, âIâm thinking itâs not a problem.â His expression gentled, and he tipped his head down towards me, brushing his lips across mine. He did no more than that, since we were standing on a public sidewalk with early Sunday traffic trickling past us, yet that relatively chaste contact played havoc with the rhythm of my pulse. That he was in fact old-school in our relationship wasnât something I really wanted to push, since I wasnât done savoring its charm, not in the slightest. But when he made those sorts of overtures, with intriguing little presses from his hands⦠well. Iâm as healthy as the next fey-blooded girl. Iâm sure you can work it out.
Still, though, my smile was crumpled. âYou
donât
have anything to be jealous about,â I murmured. And, retro charm of Christopherâs courting me aside, I wasnât done with honesty either. âFor the record? The wrong guy was in my bed last night. Just so you know.â
A certain speculative gleam lit his eyes at that, and a grin I couldnât call anything but
male
tugged at his mouth. âGood to know,â he murmured back. I had just enough time to wonder if my Boy Scout of a Newfoundlander was aware of the one-two punch of that smile and the dimple in his chin before he leaned in to kiss me againâand this time, because the street was momentarily clear, with quite a bit more zest.
Go Team Honesty
. All at once the morning was looking up.
Which, of course, was the exact moment my phone had to buzz in my hip pocket.
Distracted, we sprang apart without quite breaking our embrace, and while Christopher didnât lose his grin, it turned distinctly sheepish. âYouâd best answer that.â
He was right, of course, but Team Honesty issued a collective sigh of disappointment in the back of my brain while I fished the phone out of my pocket. A text message was waiting on the screen for my attention. I almost sagged with relief when I saw it was from Jude.
Chica I know youâre on your way here donât bother Iâm okay really! Go about your business. I need to resume mine from last night. Hasta!
âShe seems okay, or at least as much as I can tell from a text,â I said, blowing out a deep sigh and turning the phone around so Christopher could see what our friend had written. Which was nice and all, except for the part where I couldnât quite manage to rid myself of my disquiet. Part of it was yet another stab of guilt as I remembered Jude had been dressed better than was normal for her the night before, and I couldnât help but wonder if our phone call for transport had pulled her