18. Davien

Chapter 18

Davien

"Hey, sleepyhead. You're going to be late.'

Errol's first client at the gym was at six AM. Some mornings it was at five, as people wanted to get a jump on the day. I couldn't imagine hauling ass to pump and jump so early.

Usually, he was bounding around, exhibiting more unicorn behavior than I did.

"Don't wanna. Tell them I'm sick."

"Are you?" I felt his brow, but it was cool.

He rolled over, his eyes still closed. "No, just tired." He sighed. "But I can't get a raincheck for canceling, and I can't afford it."

He heaved himself out of bed and got dressed when I reminded him he'd forgotten something.

"I'll shower when I get there and after the session." Grabbing his gym bag, he blew me a kiss and left.

One of us was always in the car, driving to and from the other's place. I could eliminate the to-ing and fro-ing by selling my house and buying a home together. Somewhere close to Grams's.

But finding time was a problem. I was working on a new project at work and staying in the office late. Errol leaving early gave me the opportunity to go into work before anyone else arrived and catch up on emails.

That left little time for us to be together, let alone to make huge life decisions.

"Hey, Errol, I'm home!" I yelled as I dumped my computer bag near the door and toed off my shoes.

My mate was usually in the kitchen or slouching on the sofa but tonight he was in bed, and not dozing on top of the covers. He was in bed, the quilt pulled up to his chin, the room in darkness.

I knelt beside the bed and kissed him, not wanting to wake him up. But he stirred.

"Davien?" He didn't have my shifter sight, so I turned on a lamp.

"Long day?"

"Oh yeah." He yawned and drew me in for another kiss. "I don't start until seven tomorrow, so yippee!"

He sat up, saying he hadn't eaten, so I ordered in and we ate our dinner in bed.

"What do you think about us looking for a place that's close to Grams and not far from your work?"

"Sounds great, but homes in the streets near her place come on the market rarely."

While I'd be buying the house, using the money from the sale of my current home, it would be our place.

"You're exhausted, so even if we can't find anything, how about we move in with Grams while we find something?" My mate would suffer burnout if we didn't make some changes in our lives.

Errol licked ketchup off his lips. "You'd do that?"

"Why not?" Not everyone would move in with their mate's grandmother, but life got in the way and presented solutions, and it was up to us to grab hold of them.

I pulled up a realty site that was based in the area where Grams lived and scrolled through the listings. We wanted something that was live-in ready. If it needed a lick of paint or the garden was a mess, we could do that ourselves, but neither of us had the energy to renovate a kitchen or bathroom.

I shuddered at the cost and the disruption to our lives if we chose that option.

"This is a similar era to Grams's place." The price was within my budget, based on what I thought I'd get for my current house.

But as we flicked through the pics, we both said, "Oh no!" It was dark, dusty, and needed a heap of work to bring it into the twenty-first century.

"It used to have an outdoor toilet when it was built, just like Grams's did."

I pointed out when I was a kid, we also had to traipse outside to use the toilet, and Errol's face registered horror.

"Don't worry." I gave his hand a squeeze. "There will only be indoor plumbing in your future, unless we go camping, and then you'd be behind a bush."

"Let's skip camping and stay with your folks instead."

"Agreed."

We didn't see anything that "grabbed" us, but we decided to check out a couple of places on Sunday.

"Would Grams consider moving?" If so, we could look even closer to Errol's gym and wouldn't be constrained by searching in an older neighborhood.

"Not happening." He explained there were so many memories tied up in that place. "And besides, I worry that the trauma and stress of leaving the home she's lived in for decades might trigger a health episode."

Errol didn't want to receive a message in the middle of the night saying Grams had been arrested again.

Sunday arrived, and it was hot and sunny. A day we should have spent outdoors, but my mate had a client at the gym, and afterward, we went from open house to open house, peering in cupboards, examining tiles, and trying not to make faces at dark bathrooms with bright purple tiles.

Errol had a water bottle slung over his shoulder, and he'd packed snacks. Lately, he hadn't been hungry in the morning, preferring to eat later and graze during the day.

By mid-afternoon he was pooped, and I suggested we forget the last listing and go home. But he insisted since we were out that we should continue on. He'd eaten the last of his crackers, so I stopped at a convenience store and bought more.

"It doesn't look promising," he said as I drove past the house we were going to look at. There were cars parked either side of the street, so the place would be full of people hoping it was "the one."

"Shall we skip it?" I was ready to zoom home, shower, and order takeout. The house-hunting business was not for the faint-hearted.

Errol was already out the door, but he sagged against the car, and I held him upright. There was no color in his cheeks, and he leaned over the gutter, retching, but brought nothing up.

"That's it. We're going home."

He sipped his water and nibbled on a cracker, saying he was fine.

He wasn't and neither was the house. We got out of there pretty quick and showered off the day's dust when we arrived home.

I had to wake my mate up when the food was delivered and he fell asleep again after he ate half his curry.

Humans suffered from so many different ailments, and Errol's symptoms were so vague, I didn't do an online search. Sleep, plenty of water, and good food and he should be okay.

The next morning he bounded out of bed as if yesterday never happened. He brought me coffee before heading off to his first client.

He's fine. I was concerned . My unicorn was worried.

Me too .

Errol was fine, with boundless energy during the week, but when Saturday arrived, he threw up first thing before dragging himself to the gym for a day jam-packed with clients.

I considered asking Grams if my mate had ever suffered similar symptoms but didn't want to worry her. My parents were away for a week hiking and had no phone reception. That was another reason I couldn't live away from the city because the phone was my constant companion.

We'd have to install a landline when we moved so I could keep the same number. The one I had when my grandfather was still alive. And how Errol first got in contact with me. That was the priority, though my mate would say an indoor toilet was top of the list.

With Errol being unwell, I was distracted at work, and whenever my phone beeped, I expected to hear he'd been rushed to hospital.

But my mate's condition improved, and we talked about looking at more houses. Neither of us had the appetite for more dirty tiles and moldy ceilings.

"I suppose living with Grams would be an option. She'd probably like the company, and it's better than what I'm doing now." Errol leaned against the kitchen island while I cooked. He made a face and flapped a hand in the air.

"You don't like chili? Since when?"

"Since just now. The smell is yucky. Did you add different spices?"

I hadn't, and he ate it when it was done, though as I studied his face, he struggled to swallow and he held his nose. No five-star review for me.

We muddled along for another week, with Errol being alternately sick in the mornings or at night, full of energy or exhausted, craving certain foods and disliking his favorites.

Maybe this was a thing with humans who mated shifters. Their bodies adapted and changed. I'd never read anything that said this was a symptom of interspecies mating. We might be the first.

"I think we have to move in with Grams." Errol put down his spoon. "I can't take the long commute anymore."

If she agreed, we could do it tomorrow, and I'd pay a moving company to pack up the house and store the furniture.

"Love, I think there's something seriously wrong with me."