Page 36

The smell of burning bread finally caught my attention.

"Oh, damn it!"

I grabbed the spatula, attempted to flip the sandwich, and sent it sailing out of the pan. It landed on the tile, splitting open and depositing a generous amount of melted cheese across the floor.

I stared at the mess, still holding the spatula.

"Oh, for heaven's sake!"

Then I looked toward the ceiling.

Considering what I'd learned about Heaven tonight, perhaps I needed to reconsider some of my favorite expressions.

I retrieved the roll of paper towels from beside the sink and crouched to clean up the mess. The cheese had already begun cooling against the tile, forming an unpleasant orange puddle beneath the overturned bread. I scraped it up with the spatula, dropped the remains into the trash, and gave the floor a thorough wipe.

By the time I finished, I was more annoyed with the sandwich than the situation warranted. It hadn't stolen anything from Heaven or deceived me at a masquerade. It had merely suffered the misfortune of being entrusted to a woman whose concentration had deserted her.

I washed my hands and opened the refrigerator again.

There was leftover pasta from Sunday, along with a container of roasted vegetables and enough cheese to supply a small restaurant. I put the pasta into a bowl and heated it in the microwave, which seemed considerably less likely to result in another culinary disaster.

While I waited, my phone vibrated against the kitchen counter.

Taryn's name appeared on the screen.

I considered letting it go to voicemail. Explaining that I'd discovered angels were real and had accidentally slept with one seemed likely to provoke a rather enthusiastic response from my best friend.

But I needed to talk to somebody, and there was nobody I trusted more.

"Hello," I answered.

"Finally! I was beginning to think you'd fallen asleep. You practically disappeared after work, and I wanted to make sure everything was all right."

I leaned against the counter, watching the microwave count down.

"I'm home. It's been a rather extraordinary afternoon."

"Extraordinary how? Please tell me Martin hasn't decided to reorganize the entire client services department. I thought you looked ready to strangle somebody when I saw you earlier."

"Martin's innocent, for once. It's something else."

Taryn lowered her voice. "Everly, are you all right? You're worrying me."

I looked at the microwave, where the pasta was revolving beneath its little glass window.

"Remember the man I met at the masquerade?"

"The gorgeous one with the black wings? I should think so. You spent most of yesterday trying to avoid telling me what happened after you went upstairs with him."

"I found out who he is."

"Did you?" The concern vanished from her voice, replaced by immediate interest. "Well, that's wonderful. Who is he?"

I drew a breath.

"Cillian."

The silence that followed was so complete I wondered whether the call had disconnected.