You call this fate?

Chapter 44

He woke up two weeks later.

I had taken up work in a café a little way down the street from his apartment, and that's where I was when my phone started to buzz.

It being the lunch hour rush, and me not being entirely attentive what with remembering the orders-now that I had been promoted to being a waitress-and yelling at overly zealous patrons, that I ignored it at first, figuring if it was important, I would soon get the news one way or the other. I might not be living in my own homely home at the moment, but I still had payments to attend to.

Now that the threat of discovery wasn't hanging over my head as heavily as it had been before, I should have moved back home as soon as I was able...but somehow, through some unnerving workings of fate-or my own general inclination towards tardiness probably-I kept putting it off. When Mrs. Rodwell, who I was supposed to call Clara now, had mentioned that I could stay in Alex's apartment as long as I wanted to, I had jumped on the opportunity with my claws out. I knew deep down that, even though I should have moved back immediately, something in me balked at the idea of returning to that place. I didn't tell anyone this as of yet, but I never wanted to see it again.

Also, call me crazy, but somehow there seemed a sense of urgency in the world for me, nothing quite settling down straight, nothing stopping to spin. After that day at the hospital, I had come back to fall down on my bed the moment I was close enough, and the next morning a whirlwind had started in my small life.

Now that I could walk, getting employment as a waitress was as easy as snapping my fingers; and I didn't have to content with shady back alley places either. Hiding wasn't my objective anymore, though I did feel a prickle up my spine at the thought of Frank still out there somewhere, waiting for just the right moment to pounce, though I classified it as my overactive imagination. You didn't just get up and continue with your big, bad wolf routine after getting squashed by a wall days before. I felt like we had a breathing space, a break. And I was going to use it to my full potential.

What with my work hours, Ella and Hannah going to school, and Granny Tonks doing only god knows what, going back to my place seemed like the most difficult thing I could think of at the moment-and the most despicable. I wanted to find us a new home, a home that wasn't surrounded by darkness and shadows like the last one had been. A home that was actually a home...and I was in the market, though no one knew, not even Tasha.

Still sometimes I did catch myself feeling frustrated, and almost awkward, at taking Mr. Rodwell's home. He didn't need it right now, that was true, but I didn't belong there. It wasn't mine. I had to wonder how exactly I would explain to him my longer than intended stay when he finally got back.

Everything will work itself out.

Yeah, as if.

My phone, after repeatedly vibrating for two long sessions, had gone silent by the time I got back to the relative safety of the kitchen. Depositing my orders on the counter, from where the chefs were energetically ripping them off, I delved into my apron pocket and pulled it out.

Switching it on, I noticed that the caller ID said 'pain in the arse'. Why was Tasha calling me now? She should have been in her studio right about this time of the day, getting morally questionable pictures of herself taken.

I called her back.

Ring. Ri-

"Zara!" she practically screamed. There was an element of barely controlled excitement in her voice that had my hackles rising. "Where have you been? Why didn't you pick up the first time?"

I was perplexed. When was the last time she had picked up the phone so quickly? I couldn't remember ever.

I raised a premonitory hand when one of the chefs, Asim, started towards me, his chef's hat teetering at an endearing angle. I had to wonder what expression was on my face, for he stopped short on noticing and, when I didn't cut the call immediately, raised his eyebrows inquiringly at me. I shook my head to tell him everything was alright, and turned my back in his direction. Asim was a true gentleman, but sometimes he was suspiciously too sweet. I didn't think I could deal with him right now. "I was working, Tasha," I told her dryly. "You know that."