He remembered how the walls had calmed almost instantly, the swinging chandelier slowly coming to a stop overhead. House had grown still and warm again, the chill in the air lessening with every breath. It felt like it was waiting. Or maybe thinking?
“It calmed down eventually.”
“So you think House hid your phone?” she asked carefully.
Although Gavin didn’t want to tell her that his phone had been with him one moment—in his back pocket; he was sure of it—and gone the next, he did. He hadn’t thought much of it at the time—more concerned with calming everyone down than checking for texts—but he had later, when he’d climbed the stairs for bed and found it sitting there, waiting for him in the center of his pillow. Like it had been there all along.
“That’s weird, Gavin. That’s not normal.”
He tried to ignore the way those two words together made him feel, distracting himself with the lid to his water bottle instead.
“Wouldn’t your parents take your phone away if they were upset?” he asked.
Delilah opened her mouth to speak before she stopped, considering. “Well, it’s not the same, is it?”
“Why? House is the closest thing to a family I’ve got, which is why I wonder if we’ve been doing this wrong.”
“Wrong?”
He reached across the table, taking her hand in his. She had ink on her fingers, orange and blue and smudged black. He wanted to ask what she’d been drawing and if she would show him.
“When you said you were walking me home, it got me thinking. What did couples do in the old days before they started dating?”
“The ‘old days’?” she said, cracking a smile. “Exactly how far back should we go? Should I still be able to vote?”
Gavin rolled his eyes but smiled. “You know what I mean, smart-ass. Like your parents’ age.”
Her brows drew together, and he wanted to lean across the table and kiss her. He frowned. Another time.
“Ugh, I don’t think my parents ever dated. They were just dropped here, fully coupled.”
“Be serious, Lilah.”
“I don’t know,” she said with a shrug. “Meet their parents?”
“Exactly.”
“But I’ve already been there. It knows who I am.”
“Sort of. Parts of House are new, but its foundation is old, really old. Maybe we should do it the old-fashioned way and introduce you properly.” He squeezed her hand and gave her the most charming smile he could manage. “I can explain how wonderful you are, and my intention to court you.”
“You’re a dork,” she said, but he noticed she was the one blushing now.
“There’s no way it won’t love you if given the chance.” Butterflies exploded in his stomach. “It’s impossible not to,” he added.
“So you want me to come over again?”
“Yeah. Let me make you dinner.”
“Me? At your house? Maybe you missed the way I sprinted from there like I was on fire last time.”
“Lilah—”
“I barely made it out and you want me to go back?”
He ran his fingers up each of hers, rubbed little circles into her palms. “I think it’s possible you might be exaggerating a bit.”
She chewed on her bottom lip, her eyes watching the way he touched her. “Maybe. . . ,” she acknowledged.
“House is. . . It is what it is. I can’t change that. But it’s part of me. We’re sort of a package deal.”
“It’s just so. . . How did it not creep you out before?” she asked, surprising him.
“It didn’t creep you out at first,” he reminded her.
“Yeah, I guess. It’s just”—she took a deep breath—“odd, is all.”
“Did you miss the last eighteen years where I’m odd?” he asked a little sheepishly. “House is strange and different, but it’s mine. It fits me.”
Delilah laced her fingers with his and squeezed. “Okay,” she said finally. “But I expect dessert.”
He nodded, already grinning. “Dessert, got it. That shouldn’t be too hard.”