Rafe paused, shifting the boxes into one arm and reaching up to fuss the dark curls atop his head with the other, one eyebrow raised, waiting for my answer. I'd seen him eat before, and I knew “a hotdog” was really a stack of them, plus a half-dozen sides on top of that. Aside from their muscular strength, gargoyles also seemed to have exceptional intestinal fortitude.

"I'll eat," I said, forcing out something other than a grunt.

"I'll take it," Rafe said with a nod and a grin.

I surveyed the small apartment a final time. I didn't have any particular attachment to the space. I’d spent more time between the gym and MSA appointments than I had here. I'd already picked out a couple gyms near my new apartment in Ravenswood and started to scout for some trade work. I had more than enough savings, which meant plenty of time to search, and I'd taken a month to month lease, just in case.

Just in case I did find Sunny and…

I released a slow, heavy breath. It had been two weeks—a slow, dull, colorless two weeks of sitting around an apartment I'd barely used, itching to kick the door down and put my nose to the ground until I'd tracked Sunny and had her back in my arms.

I turned my back on the space and headed to the front door to lock up. Rafe was already in the driver's seat of the truck rental, and he leaned toward the open passenger window.

"Meet you at your new place. I'll pick up the food."

"Is there enough room for everything you're going to pick up?" I asked.

Rafe grinned and shrugged. "Figure I'll just toss out a couple of your boxes if I have to."

I grunted, not caring if he wanted to crack another joke for it, and headed for my own vehicle. Leaving the apartment was nothing. The only thing that mattered was already missing from my life.

Not forever. Just for now. 

* * *

"I have to admit, I don't get how you end up mating a client," Rafe said, wiping his mouth with a barely usable napkin.

He'd arrived with a baker's dozen Chicago dogs, two orders of onion rings, two orders of coney fries and two regular fries, four chocolate malts—three were for him—and a side salad. For me, which was thoughtful.

I wasn't keeping track exactly, but I figured he'd eaten more than two-thirds of the food already and would likely finish off the rest when I was done. Gargoyles were impressive garbage disposals.

"There's not a process to mating. It just sinks in," I said with a shrug.

My new apartment was the first story of a slightly shabby graystone, but it had high ceilings and a large shower, so it would do. Rafe and I had dropped everything off in the living room by the drafty bay window and then settled ourselves on the stoop to eat.