“Yeah, but that means she knows…” I trail off, chewing on the edge of my thumbnail. “In the last four days, I’ve gone from a handful of people knowing my secret to, like… ten.”
“Ava, babe, I know we drafted an NDA for Mark, but I think you’re going to have a very hard time keeping the lid on this one now that you’re bonded. I mean, I’m assuming you are.”
“We are,” Iadmit. Anxiety churns in my stomach, and I close my eyes. I wish I could have stayed in my little bubble with Mark for a while longer.
“Hey,” she says softly. “Do you want me to come over and we can start brainstorming? You always feel better when you have a game plan.”
“Yes, but I think I want to do it at home. This heat has been wonderful, but riding one out without a nest has me feeling some kind of way.”
She makes a sympathetic sound. “I bet. And being freshly bonded, you’ll want him in it quite a bit. You two won’t be able to stand being apart for very long for the next couple of weeks.”
I glance at the time. “I think Mark just ordered us food. So maybe meet me at the penthouse in like… three hours?”
“Of course.”
We hang up, and I come out to the living room. “Apparently, your neighbor has a bag of my clothes and has been playing heat security.”
“Mrs. Choi?” Mark asks, brows furrowed.
“That’s what Shelby says.”
“Guess we were sorta loud, huh?” He chuckles, seemingly nonplussed by it until he sobers again. “You feel anxious through the bond. What’s wrong?”
“I think the bubble popped,” I say quietly. “I didn’t have any real control over your neighbor finding out, or even the beta driver that drove me here, and it’s crashing in that we have to go out in the real world tomorrow and deal with everything.”
He comes around the couch and gathers me in his arms. “And we will face every bit of it together. You’re right, though—we do need to have some serious conversations.”
“Shelby is going to meet us at the penthouse in a few hours to start making battle plans.”
He presses a kiss to my forehead. “Suppose that’s first on the agenda of conversations, hmm? Where do we want to live?”
I try not to stiffen and to keep a mature, level head to have an open discussion about this. Of course Mark wouldn’t automatically want to give up his apartment. Yet the idea of leaving my penthouse and my nest when I’m already feeling this vulnerable and exposed makes me extremely anxious.
He laughs. “I’m kidding, little cereus. I like this place well enough, but I have no real attachment to it. Your place is larger, and I’m assuming you own it instead of renting, right?”
I nod.
“So, yours makes the most sense. Though you will have to concedesomecloset space to me,” he says.
There’s a knock at the door, and Mark drops his arms from around me to go answer it. I have the strongest urge to hide, and even though I know it’s just habit, it’s something I’m going to have to work on. I don’t want Mark to ever feel like I’m ashamed of us, because I’mnot. It’s just that a lifetime of hiding doesn’t magically get better overnight.
He stands in the doorway talking for a few minutes, and I stand on tiptoe trying to peer around him. Except he fills the frame, and I can’t see a thing. Finally, he turns and kicks the door shut behind him, juggling what looks like a large donut box and one of my overnight bags.
“Food and supplies from Mrs. Choi,” he says, holding both up. The scent wafting from the box has my interest. He opens the box, revealing neatly lined rows of what appear to be round rolls of bread. Inside the lid of the box, there’s a labeled grid.
“What are those?” I ask, perching on one of the chairs.
“I’m about to change your whole life,” he says with a grin. “These, my dear, are called a kolache. This half of the box is filled with sweet fillings like apple, blueberry cream cheese, and chocolate hazelnut. The other half is savory, like sloppy joe, breakfast burrito, and uh—” He looks at the grid. “—mac ‘n cheese.”
“That’s a lot for just the two of us,” I say, chewing on my bottom lip.
“I wasn’t sure what you’d like, so I ordered a variety.” He cocks his head to one side. “Where’re you at in that head of yours?”
I sigh. “I’m anxious and feeling out of control. And…” I hesitate, but we’re bonded now, which means no secrets, so I continue, “I’m in recovery for an eating disorder. I haven’t had a relapse in several years, but feeling like I do right now is a trigger I have to really fight to overcome.”
There’s no judgment or pity on his face, just concern. “How can I help you feel less anxious? Or support you in general with this?”
“Talking about it helps. And I think once we get home, I’ll feel a little less on edge. Shelby said part of it is that we are newly bonded and I’m away from my nest.”
