“What did she tell you about your future?” Micah asked curiously, half-wishing it was dark already, and not mid-day, so that he could see the stars – a special treat when you lived in a smog-filled city.

Damon shrugged. “Just the typical horseshit that all fortune tellers spew,” he said. Despite the harshness of his words, his tone was fond. “That I’d experience great strife, but also boundless joy, in life.”

“And what about your love life?” Micah teased, feeling brave. “Did she say you were destined for loneliness or a love story that would put Hallmark to shame?”

Damon pinned Micah in place with his gaze. “Nanna said I’d meet someone who would challenge me in every way possible – someone who would test my self-control, but lend me great strength.” A frown tugged at Damon’s mouth. “She also said I’d lose them without sacrifice.”

Micah raised his eyebrows. “Nanna sounds dramatic,” he pointed out.

“You have no idea,” Damon muttered in agreement, but his mouth remained in that miserable, little half-frown.

“You know, I find it hard to believe that the stars said all that,” Micah said, in an attempt to cheer him up. “Nanna probably just knew what a stubborn ass you were and wanted to hammer home the fact that all relationships require compromise.”

Damon snorted in amusement, his lips twitching upwards, and Micah took a selfish sort of thrill in the fact that he was able to pry the sound and tiny smile out of the man. Damon wrapped his arm around Micah’s shoulders and squeezed. “Maybe,” he agreed, “but that doesn’t explain how she knew you’d be a hooker.”

Micah poked him hard in the side in retaliation.

It wasn’t until they went back to the main floor to retrieve their bags that he realized the man had all but alleged Micah was the great love his grandma had seen in his future.

He didn’t mean it like that, Micah immediately scolded himself before his brain could fixate and get ideas. He was just making a joke.

Except instead of showing Micah to the room he’d be staying in, Damon ushered him into the same bedroom he dropped his own luggage off in, taking Micah’s duffel bag from him and placing it with his belongings on the carpet.

The room wasn’t anything like Damon’s bedroom back in New York. While Damon’s entire penthouse was the definition of modern with its hardwood floors, monochromic color scheme, state-of-the-art appliances, and impersonal wall hangings, Damon’s bedroom at his family’s estate was like something from back in time.

The walls were a warm yellow, the windows adorned with heavy red drapes, and the floor was covered in a plush rug featuring an elaborate configuration of pale blues and creams. There was no sign of electronic gadgets, the fireplace in the corner looking like it took actual wood to get it going.