With an exasperated sigh, I threw open the window and magicked the jar outside. Hopefully, by morning, the spiderswould have found new—preferably very outside—homes, and I could deal with the gloopy, spider-free marshmallow mess then.
“Something wrong with the marshmallows?” he asked, amusement lacing his tone as I passed him his sad-looking cocoa.
“Not if you like your mallows with a side of Creep’s specialty spider sacs,” I said.
Blaise’s nose wrinkled in disgust. “No thanks. Not a massive fan of spiders—or anything with more than four legs, for that matter.”
I snorted. “Better get used to them. Creep’s particularly fond of creepy crawlies.” I wiggled my fingers at him for emphasis.
“You mentioned there was a tent?” Blaise said lightly. “Maybe I should just sleep in that.”
Creep, who was evidently listening in, responded by rattling the windows violently in protest. Then, to my surprise, faintpopsechoed around the room. I glanced around, unsure at first what she’d done. It took me a moment to realize the kitchen was now suspiciously free of spiderwebs.Of courseBlaise got special treatment. I wondered if it would last longer than it took him to finish his first mug of cocoa? Because that’s how long it had taken for her to turn on me.
“Yeah, good luck with that,” I said. “Once Creep decides you’re staying, there’s really no negotiating.” It felt only fair to warn him that I couldn’t speak for Creep... or the unhinged lengths she might go to in order to make him stay.
We drank in silence. Blaise took in the kitchen with quiet interest, his gaze drifting over all the grimy clutter Creep refused to let me throw out—or clean—apparently with great enthusiasm. Meanwhile, I was mentally rehearsing how to tell him that I totally understood if he’d made a life for himself... and if that life happened to include someone else, I would—
I hadn’t quite figured out what I’d do after that.
Too soon, my mug was empty. I set it down a little too carefully, clasping both hands around it as I lifted my eyes to Blaise.
“Um... Blaise?” I said.
“Hm?”
My mouth went dry.
C’mon, Cat. You’ve got this.
“Nine years of being unsummoned is... well...” Oh no. I could feel a classic Myers word vomit bubbling up. “I mean, I didn’t summon you for nine years. Not intentionally, anyway. Technically, I didn’t summon you at all, because we just... kinda ran into each other—which isn’t to say I didn’twantto summon you, because I did, it was always something I planned to do eventually, just maybe not yet because I was trying to build a business first, which, okay, that part hasn’t exactly gone to plan, but that’s beside the point—”
I sucked in a breath. This entire conversation was veering wildly off course. Blaise’s brows had drawn together, his expression focused, like he was doing his best to untangle my rambling.
I inhaled again and forced myself onward.
“What I’m trying to say is... nine years is a long time. And if you’ve found someone else—”
“There’s no one else,” Blaise said quietly, his gaze dropping to his cup. He pressed his lips together before continuing. “I mean... of course there have been others I’ve had to feed from. But there’s no one I share mutual romantic feelings with.”
Phew. See, Cat? He didn’t—
A small, insidious brain worm wriggled free, and my stomach hollowed out all over again.
“And...non-mutual romantic feelings?”
Color flooded Blaise’s cheeks, spilling down his neck, but he didn’t answer.
“You don’t have to tell me,” I rushed on. “It’s not my business. I just—” My hands waved uselessly between us. “I don’t expect you not to have had a life before... this. And I don’t expect you to stay if... if you don’t want to...”
The words trailed off, dying pathetically on my tongue as my heart rebelled, threatening to split in two at the mere suggestion of him leaving.
“It’s not that I don’t want to tell you,” Blaise said gently. “I just need to work a few things out for myself before I’m ready to share fully. But... there was someone I thought—or rather hoped—might turn romantic, once.”
My heart cracked at the confession, shame pooling in my stomach. Therewassomeone else. Someone he might have imagined a future with.
“But the feelings weren’t mutual,” he finished, lifting one shoulder in a dismissive shrug. “It doesn’t really matter now.” He hesitated, then added softly, “What I can promise you is that I’ve spent most of the past nine years eagerly waiting for you to summon me.”
“You have?” I asked, my voice coming out quieter than I’d intended.
