that Fredward might slap me again. There was no bed, only a wide, soft, and inviting black leather sofa. The floor was covered from head to toe with a thick, tawny golden carpet, and the walls were hung well with heavy fabric in a slightly darker shade.
"Good acoustics?" I guessed.
He chuckled, picked up a remote and turned the stereo on. It was quiet, but the soft jazz number sounded exactly like Clair De Lune. I went over to get my mind boggled by his music collection.
"How do you have these organized?" I asked, unable to find any rhyme or reason to the titles.
"Ummm, by year, and then by the extent to which their musical features deviate from Clair De Lune," he said absently.
I turned, and he was looking at me with a peculiar expression in his eyes.
"What?"
"I was prepared to feel... relieved. Having you know about everything, not needing to keep them secrets from you. But I didn't expect to feel more than that. I didn't expect to like it. I didn't expect it to make me...happy." He shrugged, liking it.
"I'm glad," I said, smiling. I'd worried that he might regret telling me these things. It was good to know that wasn't the case.
But then, as his eyes dissected my expression, his smile faded into a crease on his forehead.
"You're still waiting for the running and the screaming, aren't you?" I guessed.
A faint smile touched his lips, and he nodded.

345

Chapter 16

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