My flush deepened. Because of course I’d checked Tim’srelationship status.Single. “That doesn’t mean anything. He hasn’t posted on Facebook since before the pandemic.”
Reeti tapped her nails. “Did you search for a dating profile? Tinder? Bumble?”
“No!” Tim had made it clear he liked me. I trusted him. I wasn’t trawling the Internet for bits of him, the way I had with Gray. “If I want to know something, I can ask,” I said with dignity. “Like a normal person in a healthy relationship.”
“Good luck with that,” Reeti said.
My sister smirked. “Go ahead. I dare you.”
So of course then I had to.
“Are you seeing anyone?” I asked that night over dinner.
We were at a restaurant. In public. Tim had called to ask if I were free, as if we hadn’t spent every one of the last six nights together, and afterward—being Tim—he’d probably insist on picking up the check. That was some serious boyfriend stuff right there. If I’d needed evidence. Which I didn’t.
Two parallel lines appeared between his brows. “Dating someone else, you mean?”
“Yes, Tim. Dating, sleeping with, in a relationship.”
“No.” A pause. “Are you?”
I shook my head.
He continued looking at me, his expression unreadable in the flickering tea light. “So we’re exclusive.”
“I... Yes?”
“Very good.” The warmth in his eyes, that smile tugging his lips, almost knocked me off my chair. My heart hammered.
So... Yeah. Unofficially, I was feeling all the feelings. Officially, we were... Exclusive. Committed, without the label.
But I wasn’t going to throw myself into another relationship only to crash and burn. I didn’t need to grasp at every sign ofattention or affection. I wasn’t about to ruin the moment by projecting too far into the future. What we had right now was good. Very good. Great, in fact.
Over dinner, we talked about my story. Or rather, I talked and Tim listened.
I broke off after I’d gone on for a bit about Oscar Diggs’s suggestion that I throw poor Rose under the bus. I’d upped the role of the antagonist—an evil witch—and I was still figuring out her motivation. “Am I boring you?”
“No.”
“You’re not saying anything.”
“Because I’m interested.” He refilled my wineglass. “Go back to the little girl. Rose. What’s her motivation? What does she want?”
“To defeat the witch.”
“Why?”
“Well, because she needs to get home.”
“But why wouldn’t she stay in the magic world? She’s happy there.”
“Because if she doesn’t go back to the real world, she’ll never see her mother again.”
“Why not?”
Because her mother is dying. A flash, like an opening door. I slammed it shut. “She’s twelve. She needs her mother.”
“I think she’s stronger than you give her credit for. Look how far she’s come already.”
