The sketch of Beau hung on the wall across from the couch.
I’d drawn it on my sketchpad and handed it to him without thinking. I hadn’t known what it meant when I gave it to him. Standing here now, I understood that it had meant something before I’d had words for what we were.
I looked away before he could see my face.
The kitchen opened off the living room, just big enough for two people if they didn’t mind being close. A pot simmered on the stove, steam rising.
“What are you making?” I moved closer to peer at the contents.
“My grandmother’s recipe. Braised meat with root vegetables.” He stirred the pot, his attention on the contents rather than me. “I haven’t made it in years. It might be terrible.”
“It smells incredible.”
“Wait until you taste it.”
“That bad?”
“I forgot the herbs until twenty minutes ago.”
I bumped his arm with my shoulder. “I’m sure it’s perfect.”
He looked down at me, his expression softening. “You’re easy to feed.”
“Savina said that about me.”
“She was right.”
A paperback lay on the counter, face down to hold the page. History of something. The title too far away to read.
Beau circled our feet. Tolrek reached down and scooped him up one-handed, holding him against his chest. The size contrast was ridiculous, a seven-foot orc cradling a dog small enough to fit in a cereal bowl.
“He’s been waiting for you.” Tolrek scratched under Beau’s chin. “He sits by the window and watches your building.”
My throat tightened. “Really?”
“Every evening around the time you usually get home.”
“That’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“He’s loyal.” Tolrek set Beau back on the floor.
“Thank you for the frames, by the way,” I said. “They’re gorgeous. I love antique things.” He’d remembered.
“You needed them.”
“I did. I’ve been collecting sketches for years and they’ve been sitting in a portfolio.”
“When you fill them, let me know and I’ll get you some more.”
“How long until dinner’s ready?” I asked.
“Twenty minutes.”
“Can I help?”
“You can sit and keep me company.”
There was only one chair at the small kitchen table, so I perched on the counter instead, my legs swinging. Tolrek moved around the space with the ease of someone who’d cooked here often, checking the pot and adjusting the heat.
