Page 125 of The Beast's Heart

He gives me an impish grin. “Nope, but you did.” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

At least Zane seems to be feeling more himself.

“Oh, you’re looking for Adam?” Elam says, coming around to serve me my omelet. “Yeah he was up pretty early. Said he had to go get some things sorted.”

Zane gives me a nudge. “I’ve got his number if you need it.”

Usually that would be delivered in a suggestive way too, but Zane’s switched from playful to kind, as he so often does. I’m so glad that Dad found Zane. I can’t imagine going through this nightmare without him.

I dig into the omelet, finding myself more hungry than I thought. Or maybe it’s just Elam’s excellent cooking. Charles comes downstairs, carrying a laptop, with his phone tucked beneath his chin. He’s mid conversation with a client. By thesound of things, he’s reassuring them about something to do with their portfolio. “No you don’t want to sell. I promise. This is actually a good time to buy…”

Zane nudges me again and shows me a post on his feed. It’s a still of Adam showcasing one of the rare volumes from Lloyd’s collection that went on auction. “Looks like your event went well,” he says, scrolling down. There’s one of the clips of Alisha interviewing the boys. It has a ton of reactions, most of them hearts with a few caring and applause reacts too. There’s a still of Enrique with his face covered in chocolate, grinning from ear to ear. A lump forms in my throat.

“Cute kids,” Zane says.

“They’re wonderful.”

He lowers the phone and eyes me knowingly. “You want to talk about it?”

I shrug. “What’s there to say? I’m in love with them all. I want to adopt them.” I dash at my eyes, frustrated that I’m tearing up yet again. “Adam already has, by the way. And he didn’t tell them. And I was so furious. Am still furious, I think.”

Zane blinks at me. “He adopted the kids anddidn’t tell them? Why?”

It’s one thing for me to be angry with Adam. But I find I don’t want other people to be. I don’t want anyone to think badly of him. It’s strange, this protectiveness I feel.

“He had his reasons,” I tell Zane simply. “Besides…” I spear the last bite of omelet. “I think his heart was in the right place. He’s just clueless. Or, was, at the time. You should have seen him when I started there. He had no idea how to interact with them. I think he was scared of them. But over the past few months… he’s a good father.” I swallow hard. “A great father.”

Zane sighs and places a hand on my shoulder. “So, love’s just a chemical reaction, huh?”

I side-eye him. He’s not helping.

Charles settles at the table with his laptop and Elam swoops in with their breakfast. I don’t want to continue the conversation, so I ask Zane to share more of the posts about our auction.

That it did well is an understatement. Some of the items went for double what I expected and there were hundreds of people on the stream. I guess Geoff really did know what he was doing.

Zane scrolls past one of the talking head clips that Meredith recorded. I make him go back and I take the phone from him. In the background, a little out of focus, Adam and I are waltzing. My heart trips at the sight of it. The way Adam is holding me, how he’s looking at me with such devotion. I’m not the only one who’s noticed. There are a few comments on the post wondering who I am.

“That’s cute,” Zane says, looking over my shoulder.

Elam wants to see too and he coos over the kids and their outfits. When he reaches Meredith’s clip, he also pauses. He’s a professional ballet dancer so I expect he’s watching our steps. But no, he gives me a conspiratorial look and passes the phone to Charles.

Charles chuckles. “Caught red handed.”

“Caught red handed being adorable,” Elam says. “He looks like he wants to eat you up.”

I can feel my ears heat as visions of last night flash across my memory.

I was going to ask if maybe you wanted to stay.

I stand abruptly. “I should— I need to go meet with the surgeon.”

Hospitals are always unsettling, but a hospital during a pandemic is doubly so. The staff are all wearing gowns, masks and googles. New York is past its infection peak, so visitors are permitted, but in reduced numbers and for a limited number of hours. The corridors are empty and echoey and the antiseptic scent seems stronger, despite my own face mask. I see the surgeon in a plush office, where he shows me scans of Dad’s brain and tries to explain exactly what he’s going to do, including the risks.

It’s a dangerous procedure, but not acting is even riskier. Besides, after all we’ve done to be here, I’m hardly going to tell him not to do it.

Dad is scheduled for surgery at 10, which is the earliest that they were able to fit him in, and it will take about six hours. I don’t feel up to being around people, so I text Zane an update and go for a long walk.

The summer heat is oppressive and everything feels… wrong. There’s no traffic and very few pedestrians. I always wanted to visit New York, but never like this. It’s like the city is also on the brink of death.

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