Somehow, miraculously, we came through it still friends. And I must admit, I learned a lot. I hadn't done much baking in the past and really didn't have an urge to start now - I preferred dodging a katana slash to pressing the lumps out of cocoa powder - but in the short amount of time we worked with her, Margot taught us a lot.
The timer sounded, and Margot pulled a dark cake from the oven. She set it on a cooling rack, then stepped back to admire our handiwork.
"Ladies," she said, "it doesn't look awful."
It wasn't much of a compliment, but I'd take what I could get.
"You are the best." I checked my watch. "I have to run an errand. I'll be back in about twenty minutes. Is that okay?"
"Absolutely. I'll prep the raspberry glaze, and you'll be good to go. I'll make it work," she promised.
I had little doubt. She always did.
I'd missed my last chance to provide Ethan with the best pasta Chicago had to offer. So when the opportunity came around again, I didn't miss it. I drove to Tuscan Terrace, picked up aluminum containers of pasta, and hightailed it back to the House.
I found Ethan in his office, the door open, the aura relatively mild.
I stepped inside and held up the paper bag of food. "Dinner?"
He didn't look impressed. "In a paper bag?"
But I kept smiling, because I knew this man. I knew what he'd enjoy, and I knew that even if the packaging didn't impress him, the food would.
"In a paper bag," I confirmed. I closed the door and carried the bag to his conference table, where I opened the contents and set out a meal for each of us. Pasta, bread, and olive oil for dipping.
"You're sure about this?" Ethan asked, sidling behind me and putting a hand on my waist.
"Absolutely positive. I didn't steer you wrong about pizza, and I won't about this, either."
Of course I was right.
Dinner was glorious. Because the food, even in aluminum pans, was delicious. Because Ethan moaned with joy nearly every time he took a bite. Because we shared napkins and laughs and bread at the conference table in his office. Because we didn't need thousand-dollar champagne or caviar to prove our affection or the validity of our relationship.
"There is something to be said about the satisfaction that comes from a full belly," Ethan said.
"Couldn't agree more. We'll sleep well after this feast. Or we'll have weird carb coma dreams. Hard to tell."
Ethan chuckled, wiped his mouth, and tossed his napkin into the pile.
"So, the GP," I said, when I'd taken my last bite. "What did they want?"
"A tithe," he said. "Darius, through Lakshmi, has requested that we donate a sum to the GP in penance for our bad behavior."
"Is it a lot?" Bankrupting the House seemed like something the GP would want to do.
"It is surprisingly little."
"Little?" I asked. "Why?"
"Because, apparently, that's only the first half of their plan for our contrition."
"What's the second half?"
"I'm not sure. But Lakshmi is traveling here to tell us in person."
Before I could dive into the paranoia that upcoming event was going to foster, there was a knock at the door, and Margot peeked inside. "Special delivery?"
"Oh?" Ethan asked.
She opened the door fully and wheeled in a cart.
"Margot, how thoughtful. But you didn't need to go to the trouble."
"Oh, I didn't," she said, putting her hands on her hips. "Merit made the cake."
Ethan's eyes went dinner-plate huge. "Merit made it?"
"Sir, your tone is not flattering," I advised him.
"She did. For you, on Valentine's Day, because she's got a thing for you, I think." With that, she winked, and rolled the cart out again.
Ethan looked over the cake. "It looks surprisingly delicious."
"I am not above hitting you, you know," I said.
He chuckled. "I have something for you as well. Put on your shoes."
"My shoes? But there's cake."
He gave me a look that didn't allow argument. "Just do it."
I slipped my boots on again, then followed Ethan silently to the door.
The rest of the House was quiet, and when Ethan opened the front door, the eastern sky was beginning to pinken with the first light of dawn.
But the sky was hardly the point.
On both sides of the front lawn, in the crisp, white snow, an enormous heart had been drawn in the snow with a thousand rose petals, a shock of crimson against the snowy ground.
"What is this?" I asked, putting a hand over my heart.
"A heart," Ethan said. "For you. My heart, which is very much yours."
He took my hand and led me through the snow, pausing at the edge of the heart. I picked up a petal and ran my fingertips across its surface, as soft as velvet, so soft it barely felt like I'd touched anything.
"I don't understand," I said, glancing back at him with wonder in my eyes.
"We aren't human," he said. "Nor are we average. We take on challenges and obligations that, arguably, are not our burdens to bear. We do it because it's right. Because it matters, and we've decided - you've decided - to stand for those who cannot stand for themselves. That means, unfortunately, that we don't always have the opportunity to enjoy human rituals."
"Valentine's Day?"
Ethan nodded. "Valentine's Day. But even if the rituals can't be the same for us, the symbolism is important." He cleared his throat. "You've asked about the tattoo on the back of my calf."
I smiled. "I have asked," I confirmed. "More than a few times."
"It was actually Amit's fault. We were in India, on a night train to Varanasi, and I lost a bet. A small bet, but a bet nonetheless."
I was stunned. That was so unlike him. "You got a tattoo because you lost a bet?"
"I did," he said, "and in Sanskrit, because those were the terms I'd agreed to. He graciously allowed me to select the phrase."
"What does it say?"
"Eternal life, undying passion."
"Oh, that's very nice." It was a beautiful phrase, and particularly appropriate for immortal vampires.
Ethan nodded and took my hands. "I had a sense of your passion when we met, Merit. When you first stormed into my House with fire in your eyes."
"That wasn't fire. That was sheer, unmitigated fury."
He chuckled. "Acknowledged. But a soul without passion doesn't feel fury. Or love. And there was definitely passion in your soul. I selected the phrase because I thought it lovely. Now, I feel lucky that I can deem it true."