“Yes,” Veronika said uneasily.
“Out of curiosity, I checked which you played the most. Then I bought my own copy.”
Veronika took a good look around Lycan’s living space. There were vases filled with flowers everywhere, frescoes of maidens in billowing dresses on the walls. “And then you had your home decorated to match it?”
Lycan swallowed, nodded.
This was too bizarre for words. Veronika resisted the urge to back out of the room and run away. They’d been treading that odd ground between friendship and intimacy for some time, and Veronika had been comfortable there. But this…
“Lycan this is… a little over the top, don’t you think?”
This was not a dinner planned for a good friend, or even for someone you were treading that odd middle ground with.
Lycan only shrugged, his big hands gripping the ornately carved arms of his chair, his foot dangling over his big knee, looking ridiculous in that white shoe.
She tried to entertain the possibility that that dopey shoe was on the foot of a man she could love. But she was in love with Nathan, and Nathan was single again, so there was hope.
Trying to set that aside, she imagined sitting in her kitchen drinking tea with Lycan on a Sunday morning. Or the two of them in bed on a Friday evening, Veronika’s hair brushing Lycan’s face.
No fireworks; pulse slow and steady.
Hey, hey, Nathan sent, interrupting her reverie. What are you up to? Free for dinner? On me.
Veronika felt a thrill, then surveyed the sumptuous spread the drones were laying on Lycan’s giant banquet table. The candlesticks on it were freaking works of art. Were they authentic eighteenth century? They sure looked it. Of course she had to stay, after Lycan had gone to all this trouble. The prospect of dinner with Lycan didn’t fill her with the mad, crazy excitement she felt at the prospect of eating with Nathan. On him? They always paid for their own meals. Had Nathan finally recognized what had been right in front of him all this time?
Can’t, she subvocalized. Having dinner with Lycan tonight. She knew what his reply would be: Bring him along. Make it a party. The more the merrier.
Can’t you reschedule? She was surprised. Nathan wanted it to be just the two of them. Definitely not like him.
Can’t do that.
She took the seat across from Lycan, lifted her spoon.
“Acorn Squash and Raspberry Soup,” Lycan offered.
It was terrific, though her attention was primarily on trying to sort things out rather than on the soup. She’d been the one who pushed Lycan to be bold, to take chances. Well, this was bold. Weird, but bold.
“Have you seen what’s going on with Bridesicle Watch?” Lycan asked. His forehead was sweating, his voice a stress-induced octave higher than normal.
“I haven’t checked the feeds in the past few hours. Anything new?”
“They’ve got ten thousand screens parked outside every entrance to the dating center, heckling anyone who goes inside—customers and employees alike. They’re ID’ing them, spreading their photos and info all over. Only guys wealthy enough to own copters can visit unmolested.”
“Sooner or later they’re going to have to agree to Sunali’s reforms. Skintight. And you deserve a lot of the credit. It took guts, what you did.” Veronika lifted her glass, and, after a moment’s hesitation, Lycan scooped up his as well.
He was a strange mix. He’d actually patronized the bridesicle center, yet he was risking everything to reform it. He’d been reluctant to help Rob visit Winter, yet he’d spent a fortune to impress Veronika with this dinner.
Across the table, Lycan ate his soup. Their spoons clinked in the silence. She should say something chatty and pleasant, but now that she was thinking about the Rob-and-Winter thing, it was niggling at her.
“Can I ask you something?” It was rude, but she had to ask. “When the rest of us kept pitching in to help Rob visit Winter, you never did, until I asked you. Was that because of your bad experience at the dating center or something?”
Lycan looked incredibly uncomfortable, as if the soup was caught in his throat. “No. I just, I don’t know.”
She studied Lycan. His eyes were pleading for something. Forgiveness. Understanding.
She smiled. Decided she should just let it be. “I’m sorry, that was rude. You’ve done more than anyone could possibly expect, and more.”
They ate their soup, talked about Bridesicle Watch, his research, her work. There was no witty repartee, no crackling insights about the relationship between cryogenics and existential terror.
They started on a vegetable soufflé.
Lycan cleared his throat, turned his head from side to side, as if he was trying to loosen it. “I hope I didn’t give you the wrong impression with all of this. I just…”—he struggled for words—“wanted to thank you for being such a good friend.”
Damage control. He sensed she was uneasy, and was trying to walk it back. How many times had she done that with Nathan, tossed something flirtatious out there and then laughed it off?
“No, no. I get it. It’s wonderful, it’s an absolutely wonderful gesture.”
Lycan smiled uneasily, nodded.
She didn’t love him. Not the way she loved Nathan. She kept checking herself for a spark, for that feeling she got on the first warm day after a cold winter, but all she felt with Lycan was… comfortable. Safe.
As the drones cleared away the dessert dishes, she hugged Lycan good-bye, squeezing tighter than normal, trying to convey her appreciation, to signal that everything was okay between them. She couldn’t help but see the disappointment in his eyes as the door swirled shut.
Is your invitation still open? she sent to Nathan as she rode the lift down. I’ve had dinner, but maybe drinks?
Absolutely, he replied.
She headed toward her Scamp, the first twist in Rainbow Tower almost directly overhead.
Lycan pinged her. She opened a screen back in his apartment. “What’s up?”
“I want to tell you something, but you have to promise you won’t ever tell Rob, or Nathan.”
“Sure, I promise.”
“I did give money to Rob. I’m not cheap, and I’m not selfish, I just have my own way of doing things.” There was a hitch in his voice. Her thoughtless question at dinner had wounded him deeply.
“I’m so sorry I asked about that. I know you’re not selfish. Not after what you did—” She stopped, considered what he’d just said. “Wait, you did give money to Rob?” She stopped walking, glided a few feet on her momentum before sliding to a full stop. “You were the anonymous donor?”
“Yes.” He sounded almost defensive.
“Holy shit. I thought it was Sunali. Why didn’t you say something?” Veronika felt as if she had something caught in her throat. Lycan’s stinginess toward Rob had always seemed unlike him. Now everything slid neatly into place.
“Then it wouldn’t be anonymous, would it?”
“Why did it have to be anonymous?”
“I don’t know. I don’t like to draw attention to myself. The old guy with the money. I wanted to fit in with you and your friends.”
Only half aware of what she was doing, she turned, headed back toward Lycan’s building. “You gave Rob, like, fifty thousand dollars.”
“It’s just money.”
The front door to Lycan’s building let her in. In the lobby, she stepped into one of the capsules and headed up.