His brow furrowed. Something about what I’d said bothered him, though I couldn’t imagine what it might be.
“Over the past two weeks I’ve discovered that in this city of millions, you are one of a kind.” His words carried a quiet intensity I could feel in the pit of my stomach. Suddenly, there was no one in that noisy place but the two of us. The din of the room dropped away, inaudible over the sudden rush of blood in my ears. My eyes dropped reflexively to the table.
The Galaxy-sized coffee mug he was cradling looked positively tiny in his hands.
I cleared my throat. “I’m sure that’s not true, Frederick. I’m—”
“Do not think for one moment that you are replaceable, Cassie Greenberg,” he said. He sounded almost angry. “For you are anything but.”
* * *
I turned my conversation with Frederick over and over in my head all the way back to Sam’s place.
The apartment was dark when I let myself inside. I vaguely remembered Scott mentioning an event that night at his university for faculty and their partners. That must be where he and Sam were.
Given how muddled my thoughts were, I was grateful to have the apartment to myself. I wouldn’t be able to handle it if Sam were there with his nosy but well-intentioned questions.
If I was being honest, I was already leaning towards moving back in with Frederick. But I didn’t want to rush this decision, no matter how badly he seemed to want me to live with him. If I said no, he’d be fine. Regardless of what he’d said, he’d easily find someone else just as qualified to do . . . whatever this was.
He was distraught when I suggested it, even though it was true. Because of that, I owed it to him to give him an answer as soon as I had one and not just sit on this decision.
I glanced at my phone. It was nearly eleven at night. Frederick wouldn’t think it was late if I called him, though. Eleven at night was basically late morning for him. He might think I was being a bit pathetic and overeager, though, since we’d just said goodbye an hour ago.
Then again, maybe he’d be glad I’d made up my mind so quickly.
I took a deep breath and closed my eyes.
On the train ride back home I decided that if he could reassure me about one very specific thing, I’d be satisfied. The rest of my questions could wait.
I counted to ten, willing my racing heart to slow. Then I called him.
He picked up on the first ring.
“Cassie.” His voice was bright with surprise. “Good evening.”
“I have one more thing I want to go over with you,” I said, leaping right in. This was not the time for small talk. “If we can agree on a few parameters now, I can agree to move back in.”
The sound of street traffic—a honking car horn, someone laughing—filtered in from Frederick’s side of the phone. He must be out, doing . . . whatever it was he did at night.
I didn’t want to think about what that might be.
“What is it?” he asked, unable to hide the eagerness in his voice.
I closed my eyes again, trying to steel my nerves.
“We need to discuss food,” I began. “Specifically, your food.”
“Yes. I had assumed you would want to discuss this eventually.”
“You assumed correctly.” I bit my lip, trying to think how to phrase what I wanted to ask him. “I believe you when you say you don’t feed from living humans—”
“Good,” he said, emphatically. “Because I do not.”
“You get food from blood banks, then?”
A pause. “Usually, yes.”
I made the intentional decision not to think about what usually meant. Or about the ethical dilemma stealing from blood banks raised. Drinking blood meant for human patients who needed it would also lead to human deaths, even if indirectly. But I supposed Frederick was just doing what he needed to do to survive in as humane a way as possible.
“I think I can handle the fact that you drink blood, given how you limit yourself.”
“I am very glad to hear that.”
“But,” I continued. “I cannot handle another experience like the one I had the other night. Where I open the fridge and, bam—blood.” I paused, trying hard not to think about the sickening smell of all that blood in the place where I kept my food. The way Reginald had sucked it down like a kid digging into a juice box at recess. “If anything like that happens again, I’m gone for good.”
“I understand,” Frederick said, very quickly. “You neither want to see blood in the apartment nor see me eating it.”