Doctor Dunham eyes me as if to imply she will be the judge of that and takes the bouquet from Walker. “Let me hold these for you so you can go get changed, and I’ll keep Trey company.”
Walker glances between us in trepidation. I am being vetted, clearly, but I don’t mind. It means she cares for him.
I nod my acquiescence. After all, Walker does need to change before we go.
“We’ll be fine,” I say. “Take your time. Our reservation isn’t until six, but if we arrive early, they’ll still let us in.”
“Reservation?”
“You’ll see.”
Walker’s trepidation remains somewhat, but he hurries off with a hastily spouted, “Two minutes!”
“Full disclosure?” Dunham barely waits for Walker to be out of sight. “His last boyfriend was not great. And he deserves great.”
“I agree.” She is handling the roses delicately enough, so I decide she can continue to hold them. “I assure you, I want nothing more than to help Walker achieve greatness and to be something great myself to help him unwind when he needs that too. He is a singular individual to me, like no one I have ever met.” I look after where he disappeared, already missing him, which is a strange and yet welcome ache.
Doctor Dunham eyes me for a moment before answering, and really, she merely asks another question. “Profession?”
“Travel writer.”
“Wanderlust?”
“Only until Walker needs or summons me—to which I always answer.”
“Past relationships?”
“Fleeting and varied, but no one could hold a candle to Walker, and even so, none were left with complaints.” Aside from the one I killed, but she can’t complain either.
“Family?”
“Only my mother.”
“Close?”
“Very close.”
“Norman Bates close?”
“Appropriately close, and Walker has already met her.”
That gives some pause to my interrogation. “You know, Walker and I aren’t especially close,” she admits. “He’s often more the job than he has ever been eager for socializing. He needs more in his life though, something besides just this. He’s always seemed a bit like a lost puppy, oblivious in ways despite being exceedingly clever, and not often able to recognize what is and isn’t good for him.Heis good though. A real credit to ourprofession. He deserves just as much good in his off hours. I hope whatever he sees in you is right this time.”
I answer honestly when I tell her, “So do I.”
Walker must have rushed to change and gather his things, because he comes barreling back toward us at a brisk pace, shoulder bag slung across him, hair mussed. I can tell he was worried about leaving the two of us alone, but to me, he looks positively delectable with a slight flush to his cheeks, sweat on his brow, and a heave of his chest in faint panting. Not concerning panting, but I am ever on the lookout for whether he might need his inhaler or help coming down from a panic attack. I hope to help him avoid having any panic attacks in the future and will do everything I can to strive toward that.
He runs a hand through his hair when he reaches us, and I want to lick the drop of sweat sliding down from his temple. I resist and swipe it with my thumb instead before kissing his scar.
“Ready to go?”
“Yeah,” he huffs. “You two get through Laura’s very likely third degree okay?”
“I’d say so,” I answer and look to her for corroboration.
“For now,” she says, “but I’ve got my eye on you. If it’s necessary.”
“It isn’t,” Walker insists, but he’s smiling, taking her protectiveness in stride. “Even if I am usually a really bad judge of character, trust me…” He turns from her to look at me. “Trey is everything I want and need right now. Longer thanright nowif he’ll keep me around that long.”
