Page 36 of The Gargoyle's Gift

His smile was becoming easier to tease out. “Is it? Is it presumption to ask where my mate is going to allow me the honor of enjoying her company after such a productive night’s work?”

“It probably is.” I threaded my fingers through his and led him toward his hut, the stairs to my apartment feeling somehow like more work than the extra walk to his door. “But I don’t mind.”

He snorted, squeezing my hand tightly. “I have something for you,” he said as we stepped into his little hut.

“For me?”

“A bit early, but I’ll miss the actual day once they start me at the outpost.” He frowned a bit.

“My birthday?”

“Yes.”

“I thought we agreed that nothing significant happens after about a century.”

He scoffed as he guided me to the table. “I never agreed with what you said.” I sat in the terrible little chair despite his protests that I should take the more comfortable one. Before sitting himself, he pulled a small basket from under the bed and placed the contents in front of me.

“Gaius,” I gasped, finding a pillowy meringue pie in front of me. “Is it…”

“Yes. Lemon and lavender.”

Tears prickled. The depth of the gesture slammed into me like a boulder. “How did you know? About either the pie or my birthday?”

“I shouldn’t give away my very reliable source, but the credit belongs to Imogen. She’s been very helpful giving me ideas where you’re concerned, Little Dove.”

He turned to pull silverware out of the basket as well, and I realized what he meant. “She told you about the chocolates and the tea.”

A grin spread across his face. “She did. I would love to claim that I guessed that well, but I did not. For days I wondered what she was talking about since she threw random things out in conversation. But then when I realized, I appreciated the insight. Very much.”

I accepted a fork and wasted no time cutting a slice, opting to just scoop out a bite instead. “It was a good apology, Gaius.” The fluffy meringue top melted on my tongue, sweet to the sharp lemon and earthy lavender. “And this is perfect,” I sighed.

He copied me, filling his fork and rolling the bite around thoughtfully in his mouth, his brow furrowed as though he was trying to decide whether or not he liked the flavor.

“It’s unusual. But not bad.”

“Like us?” I teased. My bond pulsed in my chest, and I couldn’t help but smile at this frustratingly handsome, stubborn man the fates had given me.

He snorted, revealing a charming lopsided grin I was growing incredibly fond of seeing and said, “Yes. Just like us, Little Dove.”