The damage, however, was done. Dom’s stepmother—who I knew from her first few words to me was perfectly capable of speaking English—said something angry and accusatory-sounding in Italian. She was fingering her crucifix again. Dominic answered in kind, complete with expansive hand gestures. He was Italian by heritage only, but from the way he was talking and gesticulating now, I could almost convince myself he’d just flown in from Italy yesterday.

Dom’s stepmother whirled and slammed the kitchen doors open. Without a look at either Adam or me, Dominic ran to follow her. I couldn’t tell if he was following to continue their argument, or whether he was hoping to appease her. All I knew was he wasn’t happy.

“Nice work,” I said to Adam with a grimace of distaste.

He took that as an invitation to come join me at the table. “Dom’s been tap-dancing his way around this for two weeks,” he said as he grabbed my leftover risotto and pulled it to his side of the table. “I didn’t think putting it off was doing anyone any favors.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. I considered Adam to be something that at least bore a mild resemblance to a friend, but no one could ever accuse me of liking him.

“You should have left that up to Dom,” I said.

Adam shoved a fork full of cold risotto into his mouth and chewed vigorously before answering. “If I’d left it up to Dom, he’d have ended up being the bad guy in his wicked stepmother’s book. This way, I get to be the bad guy. It won’t make things go smoothly for him, but it might make the bumps in the road a little smaller.”

One of the reasons Adam so often rubs me the wrong way is that he does these totally obnoxious things, then manages to explain them away so that I end up feeling he’s right.

“Help yourself to my risotto,” I said, because I refused to acknowledge that he might have a point.

“Don’t mind if I do,” he said around another mouthful. “I wasn’t expecting to find you here,” he continued. “Anything wrong?”

I almost laughed. I might feel comfortable confiding in Dominic, but Adam was a very different story.

“Nothing I plan on sharing with you.”

“You cut me to the quick.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet.” But as I sat across from Adam, resentfully watching him polish off the last of my dinner, it occurred to me that there was something I should discuss with him.

“Shae paid me a visit today,” I said.

Adam’s jaw visibly tightened, but that didn’t stop him from scooping the last few grains of rice onto his fork and eating them. He and Shae had a history, and it wasn’t a very nice one. Since he was the Director of Special Forces, he’d had to deal with Shae in her role as informant on a regular basis. Shae had always resented him for it, and whenever she had a chance, she lashed out at him. I was almost surprised she hadn’t met with an unfortunate accident yet. But then Adam was one of the good guys, so he only murdered people if it was for a good cause, not just because they pissed him off.

Dom’s stepmother burst out of the kitchen, her head held high while her eyes gleamed with tears. She sneered at Adam, ignored me, then stomped out the front door. Dom had followed her out of the kitchen, but he stayed inside the restaurant, his head bowed so that I couldn’t see his face. I suddenly wanted to be anywhere but here. If Adam and Dom were about to have a lovers’ quarrel, I didn’t want a front-row seat.

“Well, I’d better get going,” I said, pushing my chair back from the table. It didn’t come off sounding like a smooth exit line, but I wasn’t a good enough actress to hide my spike of discomfort.

“Oh, no, you don’t,” Adam said, grabbing me by my wrist. “First you need to tell me what Shae wanted with you.”

“Um …” I responded intelligently, my eyes fixed on Dominic. Tension screamed in his shoulders, reminding me again that I wanted out. “I’ll tell you all about it later.” I tried to pull my arm from Adam’s grip, but I wasn’t going anywhere unless he allowed it.

Adam followed my gaze to Dom and shook his head. “You can yell at me later,” he said to Dom. “We have all night for that.”

Dom finally raised his head, and the expression on his face wasn’t one of anger. I winced at the pain in his eyes. I knew what it was like to be scorned by my own family. Unfortunately, I didn’t know any words that would take the pain away.

“Fuck,” Adam muttered under his breath. He let go of my wrist, stood up, and gathered Dom into a hug. Dom didn’t return it, his arms held stiffly to his sides, his fists clenched. But I knew how much he loved Adam, and I knew the two of them would work it out.

Swallowing a lump of unreasonable envy that had gathered in my throat, I slipped away from the table and out the door. Neither Dom nor Adam seemed to notice me leaving. So I ended up leaving Dom’s restaurant feeling even worse than I had when I’d come in.

That’s what I got for trying to open up and talk about my problems.

IT WAS ALMOST MIDNIGHT, AND I WAS IN MY PJS, WHEN the front desk called to let me know I had a visitor. Adam, of course. I should have known he’d come after me once he’d done his best to make Dom feel better. In the old days, I’d have told the desk not to let him up. But then Adam would pull his badge and pretend he was on official police business, so it did me no good.

“Send him up,” I said with a sigh of resignation.

I didn’t feel like changing into respectable clothing, so I merely covered my PJs with my disreputable robe and waited.

It took the better part of forever for Adam to make it to my twenty-seventh-floor apartment, seeing as our elevators are so slow it was arguably faster to walk. I opened the door before he had a chance to knock, having heard the ding that signaled the elevator’s arrival. He raised an eyebrow at my outfit.

“Did I get you out of bed?”

I’d have loved to lay a guilt trip on him, but I doubted he’d feel guilty, so it wasn’t worth the bother of trying. “Nah. I was still up.” I opened the door wide enough to let him in, and Adam headed for my couch without any further invitation. He plopped down heavily and ran a hand through his shortcropped hair.

“How’s Dom?” I asked as I sat cross-legged on the love seat.

Adam waggled his hand in the gesture for “so-so.” “I tried to talk him out of reconnecting with his family once Saul was exorcized, but he didn’t listen to me.”

“It’s his family,” I protested. “You can’t seriously expect him to just cut them off.” A funny protest coming from someone who had as many family troubles as I did, but I knew how strong family bonds could be, even when you could barely stand one another.

“Why not? My host severed ties with his family even before he became a host.”

Adam had told me about this before. His host had come out of the closet when he’d turned eighteen, and his family had been so appalled that they’d kicked him out. And, as far as I knew, they hadn’t spoken to him since.

“Not everyone’s that much of a homophobe,” I said.

Adam shrugged. “You saw the expression on that harpy’s face. And she’s probably the most accepting of them. After all, she wanted to help out in the restaurant, as long as she could live in the land of denial and pretend Dom and I were ‘just friends.’” He shook his head in disgust. “I simply can’t understand why you humans are so hung up on this sexual orientation thing.”

I remembered the crucifix Dom’s stepmother had fingered. “I’m guessing they’re old-school Catholics. According to Catholicism, homosexuality is a sin. If she thinks he’s going to burn in Hell forever because of his lifestyle, then …”

“Don’t get me started on religion,” he said grimly. “I understand that even less.”

Despite all the contact I had with demons, despite the fact that I should know better by now, I still sometimes found myself thinking about them as if they really were human. They are similar to humans in so many ways that it’s easy to forget that they’re not.