“Like coffee.” I held up my mug in a salute. “My one true love, uncovered after a century.”

Lina clinked her cup against mine. “You and me both. But you are not new to love. You have a brother.”

She was sort of right. I cared for Reg, of course, but that wasn’t the kind of love I meant. I had found many . . . many boys attractive over the years—even smooched a few before feeding. But real love . . . Lina was right, the need for blood overpowered all, and I couldn’t say I even knew what love was.

“That’s different,” I said of Reg. “He’s my kin. It’s . . . loyalty.”

“It’s love, I assure you. Just not the sexy, passionate kind.”

I wrinkled my nose. I was warming up to Lina, but grown-ups—even the vampire kind—should never say things like “sexy” or “passionate.” Blech.

She smiled. “You will get more in tune with the many different ways we can love. It’s just harder when you’ve buried those feelings for so long.”

“But you’re still immortal. How do you do it? How do you love?”

She shrugged. “How do I drink coffee? How do I walk in the sunlight? I suppose it’s like anything else: the hunger fades, other things we’ve lost come back.”

Lost love.

Who might I have loved before, when I was human the first time? What love had I lost, and was it a cruelty or a kindness for my maker to erase the memory of that love from my mind? I pictured the matching pain in Sal’s and Lina’s eyes when they talked about each other.

A kindness, I decided.

“Well, I’m on your side when it comes to Sal,” I said. “If you love someone, why ask them to grow old and die when you can live and love forever? The choice is totally obvious.”

I hesitated, and Lina took note.

“But?” she prompted.

I bit my lip. “But you could have gone anywhere. Did you . . . you didn’t really open this shop just to torture him, right?”

“Is that what he said?!” Lina’s coffee mug smashed against the table, breaking in two, as her careful control wavered and she set the cup down a touch too hard. She didn’t flinch at the hot liquid that coated her hand. “That stubborn self-centered, piece of . . . I’ve half a mind to go over there and—”

“No, I’m sorry!” I waved my hands in placation. “I may have misunderstood.”

It was so not my goal to get her angry before popping the big question.

“Torture him, indeed!” Lina snorted, indignant. “I opened this shop to be near him. Even if he never changed his mind, I could at least look after him.”

“Out of love,” I said.