He nodded. “Do you want me to come with you?”
I grinned, but shook my head. “You’re my comfort zone, Greid, and the point is to get out of it a little. I can’t make you give up a day of work every time I want to leave the house. And that would be weird anyway.”
Even though his ears had twitched with pleasure when I called him my comfort zone, I worried that I might have upset him or made him feel rejected, but he simply gave me a tiny smile and a nod.
“I get it.” His long fingers fidgeted around his coffee cup. “You’ll be fine, Beryl. You don’t need to talk to anyone if you don’t want. But maybe… maybe stick to the busy streets?” he added worriedly. “Don’t go wandering down alleys or anything. Some parts of the city are kinda rough, even around here.”
“I won’t. And I’m not going yet.” I picked up my coffee. “I want to have breakfast with you first.”
“Okay.” He turned for the kitchen. “What do you feel like?”
“I’ll make us some eggs.”
I’d started teaching myself how to cook after Greid showed me how to look up recipe websites on my phone. So far, I’d mastered eggs, but my one attempt at making breakfast muffins had been a disaster. Greid had choked down one of the sad, dense little discs—that looked nothing like the fluffy-topped muffins in the pictures—and told me in a strained voice that it was delicious. When I’d bitten into one, I’d had to spit it back out.
“Scrambled?” Greid asked hopefully, already nibbling on a slice of leftover pizza from last night even though I was about to make him breakfast. I knew he’d eat it though, so I didn’t care. Greid’s stomach was a bottomless pit.
“Sure.” I pulled out a frying pan. “You go wait in the living room. I’ll bring it out.”
I always said it because I knew he was sensitive to the hum of the appliances in here, and he always refused, just like he did now.
“No, it’s okay.” He leaned back against the counter and finished his pizza, then gulped down some more coffee. “So where do you think you’ll go today?”
“Um… I’ll probably just wander around here. Get to know the area a bit better. Could you grab me the eggs?”
“Sure.” Greid practically tripped over in his haste to reach the fridge. I smiled up at him when he passed me the carton.
“It’ll be nice just wandering around,” I said as I cracked a ridiculous number of eggs into a bowl. I knew how much Greid could consume. “Especially as it’s a weekday, so it won’t be too busy.”
“Yeah.”
I could sense Greid’s mind churning as I whisked the eggs, so I glanced over at him. He was worrying his lower lip with his sharp teeth, and I knew that meant he wanted to ask me if I needed any money so I could buy things while I was out.
He was fully aware that I’d refuse, so instead, like a little sneak, he said, “Hey, maybe you could grab us some lunch while you’re out. Unless, um, you plan on being out all day. But I’ll give you some cash for it. And, uh, if there’s any left over”—he shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant—“you can just get whatever with it. You know, if you spot anything you like.”
I shot him a look that made his face spikes twitch. Deciding to mess with him a little, I solemnly asked, “Greid, are you trying to slyly give me money?”
“What?” His ears went crazy, their frondy tips fluttering against his hair. “No. What? I just—Lunch,” he finished lamely.
He was the worst liar in the world. And I wanted to hug him so, so bad. He looked so warm and inviting in his big, soft tent onesie, clutching his coffee cup like it was some kind of shield that would hide his terrible lying skills. His hair was mussed from sleep, and one of his thick white socks was slipping down his ankle.
His ex is an idiot, I thought as I turned back to the eggs.
Chapter Eighteen
Beryl
“I’ll have my phone with me upstairs, so call me if you need anything,” Greid said anxiously as he watched me put on my boots and coat. “Like, if you get lost and want me to come meet you. I don’t mind.”
“Okay,” I said, keeping my head bent as I laced up my boots to hide my smile. He was so sweet.
Straightening up, I buttoned my coat and gave him a big grin. “Wish me luck.”
“Good luck,” he croaked, shifting in place. “You’ll be fine. You’re—” His ears fluttered. “You’re brave, Beryl. You can do this, no problem. Just punch anyone who looks at you funny.”
I laughed, but my throat closed up from his sweet words. He thought I was brave? I didn’t feel it. I didn’t feel like I’d done a single brave thing. Even when I’d left the cult, I’d had Greid as a safety net. I hadn’t truly done it alone, and I couldn’t have been more grateful to him.
The urge to hug him was near overwhelming. We stared at each other in silence for a few seconds, my hands gripping my key and phone, and his stuffed in the big front pocket of his onesie. Quashing the intense desire to stay inside and bury myself against his tall frame, maybe get under that onesie with him, I cleared my throat and turned for the door.
“See you soon,” I said cheerfully, refusing to acknowledge the nerves swirling in my belly.
Why was I nervous? I did this every morning. The only difference was that I wouldn’t go straight to the coffee shop. But I just planned on walking around, looking in shop windows. This was easy. It shouldn’t feel so scary.
My shoulders relaxed a little as I began walking my familiar route toward the main street. I’d probably only be out an hour at the most, and then I could go home and read my book or maybe keep Greid company while he worked.
The street was even quieter than it had been when I’d gone to get coffee, so I walked slowly, looking in shop windows. This time, I walked right past Deep Brew and kept going, further than I’d walked before. I passed the nail salon I’d noticed on my first day here, as well as the fancy wine shop, which I paused outside of.
Could I work at a wine shop? I had expert knowledge of how wine was made, but I hadn’t ever drunk it. I did know all about the bullshit vintners used to describe their wines. Words like “robust” and “full-bodied”. I’d helped make that stuff up for the cult’s wine.
There wasn’t a vacancy sign in the window, but I found myself reaching for the handle and stepping inside. It was cool and dim in here, the walls covered floor-to-ceiling with stocked wine racks. It even smelled like wine, and I wrinkled my nose as I looked around.
“Can I… help you?”
The snooty, unimpressed voice made my shoulders stiffen as an older demiurgus stepped out from the back office, already giving me the stink eye over his wire-framed glasses. In that moment, I knew without a doubt that I didn’t want to work here, even if they were looking for someone.
Giving him a tight smile back, I shook my head and said, “No. Thanks,” then turned for the door.
Back on the street, I sighed and kept walking, feeling a little dejected. Maybe I should go back and just ask. A job was a job. Maybe he’d actually be really nice, or sympathetic, or even impressed if I told him I’d spent years making wine.
I stopped and glanced back at the wine merchant uncertainly. I needed to get a damn job. I couldn’t keep letting Greid buy us dinner every night and pay my share of the bills. I should go back and ask. I had to go back and ask. It was the one thing I actually had a modicum of experience in.