“And you’re well aware that she was similarly infected.” His smile was tight. “I may not be a saint, but I’m certainly not a monk—although I’ll probably have to become one now that she’s dead.”

“So why are you telling me all this? We’re over, Sam.”

“Possibly—”

“Possibly?” Annoyance surged, and I thrust forward, my grip on the table suddenly fierce. “It’s a fact of every phoenix’s love life that the person they love will ultimately hurt or destroy them. We never get a happy ending; do you get that? Never. So as much as you might now want otherwise—for whatever fucking reason—it’s not going to happen. It can’t happen.” I paused, took a deep breath, and then leaned back. And oddly felt better for unleashing all that.

He frowned. “What do you mean, ‘never’?”

“It means, in all the centuries I’ve been alive, in all the centuries Rory’s been alive, we’ve never found lasting love. Something always happens to shatter it.”

“Something like me finding out about you and Rory?”

“Yeah.” I scrubbed a hand across my eyes. “And I probably should have told you about him, but your attitude to supernaturals and past history stopped me. Rebirth after being murdered is never a fun thing, let me tell you.”

His face paled. “No matter how angry I might have been, I would have never—”

“I know, but past loves have.” I sighed. “None of which alters the fact that you and I cannot—will not—happen in this lifetime.”

He studied me silently for a moment, and then sat back. “I’m sorry for what I said that day, Red. I’m sorry for the way I reacted. And I know I can’t change any of that, nor can I alter fate itself. But I’d really at least like to be friends with you.”

A somewhat bitter smile twisted my lips. “What, go out for dinners and the like, and act like there was nothing more serious than that in our past?”

“Yes.”

“Do you really think that’s wise?”

“Probably not. But as I said, I’m not a monk and I need—” He paused. “I need something to hold on to outside work. Something that keeps me distracted from the virus, and keeps me grounded.”

“I’m not your ground, Sam. I can’t be.”

“You have to be. I can’t infect you, Red. I can’t kill you—not with the virus, anyway.”

I eyed him for a minute. “The inspector told you about my burning the virus from Jackson’s body, didn’t she?”

“Yes. And that one fact gives me hope that a cure will eventually be found.”

“We don’t even know if I actually succeeded in destroying the virus in his system.”

“No, but he’d be exhibiting signs by now if he were infected, and he’s not.”