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Din reached across the table, his fingers brushing hers where they curved around the cup. "I'm here to help in any way I can. Just tell me what you need, and I'll do whatever it takes to get it for you."

"I know that you are here for me." He was constant, steady, and patient in a way that made her feel both treasured and trapped. "It's just?—"

Her phone buzzed again, saving her from finishing that thought. This time it was Shira.

"Where are you? I have gossip that cannot wait."

"The café," Fenella said. "What kind of gossip?"

"The kind that involves Ruvon mooning around the library all afternoon, asking about Persian poetry. I'll give you three guesses who he's trying to impress, and the first two don't count."

It wasn't hard to guess who Ruvon wanted to impress, unless he had decided that the older ladies were an easier conquest.

"Are you home?" Fenella asked.

"Yes."

"We'll be there in a few minutes, so you can tell me all about it when we get there. We are just finishing our cappuccinos at the café. And by the way, I have juicy gossip for you too."

Shira squealed in delight. "I can't wait."

Ending the call, Fenella smiled at Din. "Apparently, we're needed for an emergency gossip session."

"We?" He raised an eyebrow. "I didn't hear her inviting me."

"Consider yourself drafted." She stood, downing the rest of her cappuccino in one go. "You like Shira, don't you?"

"I tolerate Shira," he corrected, standing as well. "There's a difference."

As they left the café, Fenella reached for his hand, threading their fingers together like it was the most natural thing in the world.

The walk back to Shira's house was comfortable, their joined hands swinging slightly between them. The village paths were busy with the late afternoon crowd—people heading home from work, others going to the gym, nearly all either nodding and smiling or calling out greetings.

Fenella realized with a start that she knew most of their names already.

When had that happened? When had she become a member of the community?

"What are you thinking about?" Din asked.

"I was just realizing that this place feels like home now, and that's new for me."

"New in a good way or a bad way?"

"Jury's still out," she said, but squeezed his hand to take the sting out of the words.

When they reached the house, Shira yanked the door open before they could knock. "Finally! Come in."

"Does this gossip require wine or hard liqueur?" Fenella asked. "Because if I'm working tonight, I should probably stick to coffee or tea."

"Coffee it is," Shira declared, dragging them toward the kitchen. "Sit. I'll make it while I talk."

"Not for me," Din said. "I'm all coffeed out."

"Tea, then?" Shira asked.

"Sure. Whatever tea you have is fine."

As Shira bustled around the kitchen, she launched into her tale. Apparently, Ruvon had spent his entire afternoon in the library, checking out books on Persian history and poetry and asking Shira for advice about romantic gestures that a young, shy woman might find acceptable.

"He actually asked if I thought roses were nice or too cliché," Shira said, setting mugs in front of them. "I told him yes, obviously they were overdone, but he looked so crestfallen that I had to suggest alternatives."

"Let me guess," Fenella said. "You told him to write her a poem."

"I told him to be himself," Shira corrected. "And just to be on the safe side, I told him to get chocolates. I don't know any woman who doesn't appreciate a box of quality chocolate."

Din shifted beside Fenella. "Isn't Arezoo a bit young for him?"

"She's nineteen," Fenella said. "That's adult by any standard.

And honestly? They might be good for each other.

He needs someone to draw him out of his shell, and she needs someone who's very patient.

I can't see Arezoo with any of the overconfident immortal males with all their swagger.

A shy guy is perfect for her. He would bring out her maternal instinct. "

"Listen to you, playing matchmaker," Shira teased. "Next, you'll be hosting dinner parties and setting up blind dates."

"People like to talk to bartenders, and I have a good eye for people. I'm uniquely qualified to do just that."

Shira pursed her lips. "And you really think that a geeky former Doomer and a sheltered Iranian young woman are a good match?"

Fenella shrugged. "Sometimes the unlikely pairings are the ones that work best."

She felt Din's eyes on her, but didn't look at him. They were certainly an unlikely pairing—the quiet, studious professor and the skittish bartender. But somehow, against all odds and her self-destructive tendencies, they worked.

"Speaking of work," Shira said, "I saw on the bulletin board that you'll be at the bar every night until you need to leave for your trip."

"News does travel fast here," Fenella muttered. "Atzil just asked me less than half an hour ago."

"He posted it on the bulletin board the second you hung up. The guy knows how to capitalize on a good thing."

She laughed. "I have to admit that I enjoy the attention, but all I do is pour drinks and make up ridiculous stories about people's belongings. It's hardly a transformative experience."

"It's entertainment," Din said. "And connection. People come to see you because you make them laugh, and for a few minutes, they get to be part of something fun and light. That's important. I bet that for some it's better than therapy."

Fenella looked at him, startled by the insight. Maybe there was real value in bringing levity to immortal lives that could become weighted down by centuries.

"Thank you. That was a very nice thing for you to say, and very smart."

"Must be all that time I spent with artifacts," he said with a perfectly straight face. "Wisdom through osmosis."

Shira snorted. "More like you've been reading my self-help books. That sounded like something from Understanding your Emotionally Unavailable Partner ."

Fenella's mouth dropped open. "You didn't."

Din's expression turned sheepish. "I needed a break from grading papers, and it was just lying there on the coffee table. I got curious."

"I've also noticed that you were leafing through the one about love languages," Shira continued mercilessly. "Did you ever figure out if Fenella prefers acts of service or gifts? Because that brooch suggests?—"

"Okay, that's enough," Fenella interrupted, though she was fighting not to laugh. "Why are you home anyway, Shira? It's too early."

"I was on the first shift today," Shira said cheerfully. "Which means I started early and finished early, and now I have all evening to embarrass both of you until you leave for the bar."

"Actually," Fenella said, standing, "I need to get some rest before heading to work. And shower. And possibly burn my clothes because they smell like Persian market and panic sweat."

Shira's eyes widened. "You said that you had some gossip of your own. Spill!"

"I'm surprised the rumor machine hasn't put that one into production yet." Fenella told Shira about the encounter at the market, and that Max had taken the man to the keep for interrogation.

"You are right. That's a lot of excitement," Shira agreed. "Poor women. They finally gathered the courage to leave the village, and that happened to them. I bet they won't want to leave for a long time now."

"I believe that I convinced them that living in fear was not the way."

Now Fenella only had to convince herself, and all would be good.

When she and Din headed to her bedroom, Shira made exaggerated kissing noises, which Fenella responded to with a decidedly rude gesture that only made their host laugh harder.

In her room, Fenella kicked off her shoes and sank onto the bed. The adrenaline from the day's adventures was wearing off, leaving her feeling wrung out and slightly shaky.

"You shouldn't work tonight." Din sat on the bed beside her. "Atzil would understand if you needed a night to recover."

"From what? Shopping?" She shook her head. "I'm fine. Besides, I function better when I'm distracted."

He studied her for a long moment. "You know that running toward something is just as much an escape as running away, right?"

The observation hit closer to home than she cared to admit. "Maybe. But at least I'm running toward something useful and beneficial. You've just said how I was helping people, uplifting their moods and all that crap."

"Fenella—"

"I know what you're going to say," she interrupted.

"That I don't need to keep moving, that it's safe to be still, that you're here and patient and all the other lovely things that make me feel like the world's biggest ass for not being able to just enjoy you the way I should and the way you deserve. "

Din pulled her against his side. "That's not what I was going to say at all."

"No?"

"No." He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "I was going to say that I'm glad you have something that makes you happy."

His acceptance undid a knot in her chest. "You're too good for me."

"Rubbish," he said. "We're exactly right for each other. It just took us fifty years to figure it out."

She turned her face into his shoulder, breathing him in. "I don't deserve you."

"You deserve everything," he said fiercely. "Love, happiness, safety, purpose. All of it."

"Din..."

"And I'm going to keep telling you that until you believe it," he continued. "Even if it takes another fifty years."

"God, I hope not," she muttered against his shirt.

His chest rumbled with quiet laughter. "Me too. My patience is legendary, but even I have limits."

She pulled back to look at him. "What happens when you reach them?"

"Then I seduce you with my vast knowledge of Neolithic pottery until you capitulate out of sheer boredom," he said solemnly.

"Your pillow talk needs work," she informed him.

"I'll add it to my research list," he promised. "Right after 'Understanding your Emotionally Unavailable Partner, Volume Two .'"

"There's a volume two?"

"There's always a volume two. That's how they get you."

Despite the stress of the day and the fear and restlessness that still lurked at the edges of everything, Fenella laughed. Real, genuine laughter that came from deep in her chest and loosened all those tight muscles she hadn't noticed had been that way for a very long time.

"There," Din said with a smile. "That's better."

"I really do need to shower," she said. "And change. And mentally prepare to tell fortunes for drunk immortals."

"Then I'll leave you to it." He stood but stopped at the doorway. "Do you want me to come with you tonight?"

She was surprised he was asking. "Sure. If you want to."

He grinned. "There is nowhere I'd rather be."

"Come back in an hour. We'll have dinner together."

Fenella wasn't at all hungry after all the sandwiches she'd consumed, but she would be in an hour, and she didn't like to be away from Din for too long. It was kind of pathetic to become so attached so quickly, but she didn't have the energy to fight it anymore.

"I'll bring steaks."

She laughed. "Is Thomas okay with you raiding his freezer?"

"I'm paying him back with fine whiskey. He's very happy with the exchange." He blew her a kiss before heading for the door.

After Din left, Fenella sat on her bed for another moment, her hand going to the brooch still pinned to her shirt. The metal was warm under her fingers, pulsing with that subtle energy she wasn't sure was real or imagined.

Every night at the bar until the trip to Egypt wasn't going to be easy, but then nothing worth having ever was.