“I’ll take care of it when we get back from our walk.”
He waits outside my door, his own coat slung over his arm, while I head inside to get mine. I study myself in the mirror as I button it up, then put on the matching hat, gloves, and scarf. When I emerge, Rupert’s brows rise to his mane.
“It looks wonderful on you,” he says in a low voice. He reaches out and lifts the very end of the scarf. “Great choice.”
I suck in a breath when blood rushes up to my face. “Thank you.”
We head to the back door, and here, Rupert puts on his own jacket, an old-fashioned black wool coat with brass buttons. It doesn’t quite fit him, given the massive size of his body, but the man who wore it in life must have still been rather large.
“You look good,” I say.
“Vintage,” Rupert answers as we head out into the cool air. “Used to belong to a captain in the British military. My grandfather. He was in the Royal Navy.”
“Really?” I’m fascinated. I didn’t think he would broach his past or his family yet. “He was a captain?”
Rupert opens the gate to the garden, and I could swear he sniffs me as I walk past.
“I come from a long line of military people. I was the first one to decide not to walk that path. My father and mother were not happy with me.” His shoulders hunch a little as he continues. “They were especially not happy when I wanted to go into cooking. I dropped out just before graduation at the Culinary Institute. I had internships lined up at good restaurants, but my father fell ill.”
Without thinking, I reach out and put a hand on his arm. Rupert looks at me from the corner of his eye, and his lip quirks up.
“I’m sorry about your father,” I say.
Rupert nods appreciatively. “It’s been years since he passed, but I still think about him often.”
“Are you in touch with your mother?”
It might be a sensitive question, but he seems willing to open up about his vulnerabilities right now.
With a sigh, Rupert shakes his head. “Not since… this happened.” He gestures downward at his body. “We spoke a few times, but as soon as she began asking when she could come to visit, or when I would visit her, I realized I had no excuses.”
“So you stopped calling her?”
“And I stopped answering her calls.”
When I let out a surprised gasp, Rupert hunches forward, burying his hands deeper in his pockets.
He doesn’t even speak to his own mother. She must worry about him and wonder if she did something wrong. I’m just as sorry for Rupert as for her, because he feels he has no choice in it.
“Do you miss her?” I ask, winding my scarf tighter around my neck. I’m glad I have it and the hat, or else my ears would freeze off.
“I suppose I do. There are many things I miss about my old life. But that’s just what it is.” He looks straight ahead, his feline mouth set in a firm line with his front fangs showing. “My old life.”
I think I understand even more now. It’s as if that version of him died when he became this.
Unsure how to answer, I decide to say nothing and simply enjoy the outdoors together. At the other end of the garden, Rupert opens the next gate. As I pass him, he sets a gentle hand on my shoulder.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you with talk of my mother.”
“I won’t say it doesn’t affect me.” I look up into his unusual face, the one that is already becoming familiar to me since last night. “But it doesn’t upset me. I want to know, Rupert. And sometimes the truth can be difficult to bear.”
He cocks his head, returning my steady gaze.
“There may be more things like this.” His tone isalmost… warning. “More moments where my truth will be painful to hear.”
I think he knows what I want to ask him next. And I hope he’ll be willing to tell me, even if it’s difficult.
“I’m tougher than you think,” I say in a joking tone, trying to lighten the mood. I flex one arm, patting my bicep. “I’ve seen some shit.”
