Page 96 of Grim Tidings

Mine.

“Okay,” he agrees.

I don’t know what else to say, so I don’t say anything at all. We’re a doomed, tragic pair. Two souls caught in the wrong place at the wrong time with not enough of it left between them.

But it doesn’t matter. The minutes I have left belong to him.

So I sit in his chair in his kitchen draped in one of the flannels I stole from his closet, and I smile like a fool.

He smiles back, then glances over my shoulder at the clock hanging on the wall. “It’s almost ten. Do you want breakfast? I can probably find something—”

“Oh, shit!” I stand quickly, hitting my knee on the underside of the table. I hobble barefoot toward the bedroom, shucking Gabriel’s shirt as I go. I reach for the black sweater I left at the edge of the bed instead, forcing it over my head while Gabriel leans back in his chair, watching from the kitchen.

“Is it something I said, or—”

“I have plans with Frank. I was supposed to be over there at nine.” I rush back out of the bedroom and grab a wayward boot, hopping on one foot while I slide it on. “He said he’d show me how to make a crescent arrangement.”

Gabriel looks unimpressed. “I literally just told you I want all your time.”

“And you’ll have it. When I get back from flower arranging.”

He huffs. “Should I be worried you’re blowing me off for an octo-genarian?”

“He’s seventy-eight, so. No.” Sweater on. Boots on. Bag … somewhere. I spin around wildly and then find it, halfway beneath his dresser. “I’ll bring an arrangement back for the bar.”

Gabriel does a poor job of hiding his wince.

“What? What’s that about?”

“Nothing,” he answers quickly.

I narrow my eyes and Tater Tot growls from his nest of blankets in the corner.

Gabriel sighs and scratches under his ear. “It’s just, you’ve been bringing a lot of them back. Don’t you think you’re running out of space?”

That’s fair. The town house I’ve been squatting in is filled to the brim with fresh florals. If that Ghost of Christmas Past ever comes back, he’s going to have some questions. Every flat surface is covered with daisies and dahlias and black-eyed Susans. “That’s why I’ve been bringing them over here. You have plenty of space.”

His mouth twitches in a grimace.

I prop my hands on my hips. “What?”

“Nothing.”

Tiny flames appear at the tips of my fingers. “Gabriel. What?”

He looks at my hands and sighs, resigned. “I hate the way the lilies smell. It’s like being in a funeral parlor.”

I stare at him. “Was that a joke?”

He winces. “Shit. No. It wasn’t.”

I have to bite my bottom lip to keep from smiling. “I’m leaving now, and I’m not bringing you back any flowers.”

“Darcy, listen—”

“I’ll give them to someone who appreciates them. Like maybe the funeral parlor down the street.”

Gabriel stands from his chair and strides across the room, gripping the front of my sweater to tow me into him. He presses a firm kiss against my mouth.