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“If I go, will you be here when I get back?”

“Do you want me to be?” His voice was softer, more hesitant.

“Yes. Very much.” And I felt my face heat at my admission.

Tristan shook his head, bewilderment writ large on his lovely face. “I understand why I want to be near you, Emily. I don’t understand why the hell you want my loathsome company,” he whispered.

I gaped at him astonished. He wanted to be near me, this beautiful… um… boy… man.

Why?

“Soup, Emily,” he prompted.

“Oh, yes.” I scrambled up from the chair and packed my cello into her case. I needed to find the stand among all the packing crates. Tristan didn’t take his eyes off me. “You’ll stay?”

“I said I would.”

I smiled. “In a moment, then.”

“Yeah. A moment.”

Reeling, excited, and mentally compiling a list of questions, I ran downstairs.

“I’m going to cancel my meeting this afternoon,” Dylan said as he finished his minestrone, eyeing my empty bowl with suspicion. I’d bolted through my soup.

“Why?”

“I’m not sure about leaving you on your own. You’re still very up and down.”

Ah… the roller coaster.

“I’m fine. You go. I’ll behave myself.”

“Are you? Are you fine?” he asked. His tone was one of quiet desperation.

Oh, Doctor Dyl.

“Yes. See? I’ve even eaten all my soup.”

“That’s what’s really worrying me,” he said with wry humor.

“Dylan, please. Stop with the guilt trip. I don’t want to hold you back from things you need to do. I mean, you’ve given up your job for me.”

“I’ve taken a sabbatical for two months, Emily. There’s a difference.”

“I’m going to move my things into my new bedroom. Unpack the crates, move my clothes. I’ll be busy. It’s easier when I’m busy,” I added, realizing it was the truth. The pain was more manageable when I was occupied. Be it decorating, unpacking, or interrogating wayward, handsome ghosts.

“Okay,” he answered, but his uncertainty remained. “Call me. Use your phone, which I never see you do. If you feel troubled, you must promise to call me and I’ll come straight home. I’ll be in Kensington. It won’t take me long to get back.”

I nodded, collected our empty bowls, and put them in the dishwasher.

“I’ll cook supper as well.”

“Deal,” he said, and his whole face lit up when he smiled.

I vaulted back upstairs, anxious to see Tristan. He was standing at the window when I came charging into the room.

“Where’s the fire?” he asked, amused.