“When we’re grown-ups.” She kissed him with the sun playing through the curtains, made it count. “The best part, right now, is you’d ask if I wanted you to ask. I love that you’d do that.” She wrapped him up again. “I really love you for doing that. Ask me again, one day down the line.”
“You could ask me.”
“Uh-uh.” She drilled her finger playfully into his belly. “You.”
He dug his fingers into her ribs. “Why not you?”
“Because you started it.” She giggled her way into the kiss. “Crap,” she muttered when her com signaled.
She angled back, reached over to slide it across the table. “Text from Dallas. She says to meet her at the morgue.” She calculated the time, grinned. “We’ve got fifteen minutes.”
She popped up to race him to the bedroom. Fifteen minutes with the guy who loved her enough to ask if she wanted him to ask?
Even better than a cherry Danish.
Eve walked down the white tunnel of the morgue. She’d long ago gotten used to the smell of death coated with lemon-scented industrial cleaner. She’d stopped thinking that the men and women at Vending or heading to an office had recently lifted the internal organs out of a corpse, or were going to after the next hit of coffee.
She no longer wondered how many occupants resided in the cold drawers, or how many gallons of blood washed down the gullies of the tables on a daily basis.
But when she passed through the doors of the autopsy room and saw Harris on the slab, the resemblance to Peabody gave her a hard jolt.
Chief Medical Examiner Morris turned away from a comp screen. He wore a navy blue suit with razor-thin lines of silver. He’d twisted his ebony hair into a ladder of sleek tails at the back of his head.
Some sort of gritty, back-beating rock played at low volume, and a vending cup of coffee steamed away where he’d set it down on a steel tray.
His exotic eyes skimmed past Eve, then back. “I’d hoped Peabody would be with you.”
“She’s on her way.”
“It’s a … I’m not sure what to call it.” He walked to the body, naked on the slab, the Y incision tidily closed. “Really, the resemblance is only surface. And yet.”
“I know.”
“I’ll admit I’m grateful Carter was on last night, and did the work here.” He tapped a finger to the screen to bring it on. “I would have found working on her very disturbing. You didn’t request me.”
With a shrug, Eve slid her hands into her pockets. “It was late.”
“No.” Now those dark eyes softened a bit as he looked at Eve. “You thought because I’d lost Amaryllis, that we’d had to bring her here to my house, even this surface resemblance to a friend would cause me pain.”
“There wasn’t any point in it.”
“There’s a point in thanking you for your consideration. I miss her.” He brushed his fingers over his heart. “I think I’ll always miss the potential of what we could have been together. But I’m better than I was.”
“That’s good.”
“When I came in here this morning, looked at her, it made me unspeakably sad. People who do what we do, who work with death day after day, we can still find it unspeakably sad. I think it’s important we do, from time to time.”
“I barely met her, and I didn’t like her. I’ve made a point in picking out all the physical differences between her and Peabody. And still, it hits a spot.”
“I think, after all this time, all this death, it’s good we still have a spot that can be hit. Coffee?”
“That?” She glanced at the steaming cup, could smell the raw bitterness from where she stood. “Pass.”
“It’s foul,” he agreed with a bit of cheer. “I don’t know if it’s a good thing or bad that I’ve gotten used to it.”
“I could hook you up with some real.”
“If I had real coffee in here, there’d be a stampede. Even the dead might rise like zombies. I’ll stick with foul, avoid the horror.”