Eros

Chapter Fourteen

Neither of them were happy by the time they reached their hotel room in Paris.

Angie glared daggers into the back of the God's head as she walked.

Mummy issues. Who does he even think he is? Angie did not have Mummy issues. And her Father would need to be alive for there to be Daddy issues in place.

But Mummy issues.

Sure, Angie and her Mother didn't get along one bit. Since her Dad had died all those years ago, Angie had become nothing more than a burden in the life of her Mother. Sheila wanted a new life. One that Angie didn't fit into.

By that logic, Sheila had all of the issues, not Angie.

Angie didn't miss the bitch. She'd happily have nothing to do with that evil woman. She certainly hadn't missed out on anything.

But Mummy issues? He's got no idea what he's talking about.

It was simple. Eros had been dead for too long. At some point, he must've become deluded.

Angie wouldn't waste too much time thinking about it.

Mummy issues. As if.

Commitment issues, on the other hand...

Angie had trouble connecting and committing to people.

Okay, so what he was saying was probably, definitely true—but who did he even think he was saying it in the first place?

I'm doing him the favour here.

In the safe confines of their hotel room, she checked her phone, not entirely sure what she was expecting.

Of course, there were no messages there from her Mum. She'd be surprised if her Mum had even noticed by now that she'd gone. She'd never noticed before. Not unless she wanted something.

But there was a message from Ted asking where she was.

She was surprised he'd noticed she'd gone, or that he could piggle his eyes away from Liv for long enough to notice.

But what was she supposed to say?

Oh, hey Ted. Sorry I'm not around at the moment. I've just headed out the country to resurrect a God who's been dead for six hundred years. I'll be back soon, maybe, if I don't die. Miss you xx

It wouldn't pass.

She fed him the same excuse she'd given to her Uncle. That she'd gone off soul searching or some bullshit. But it'd keep him from asking questions for a while.

She spared the God a glance as he made his way around the hotel room, examining everything, taking anything in that he didn't already understand.

Why did he have to be so damned attractive?

She turned away, heading over to their room's cord phone.

Now to try out a theory.

When the line connected with room service, Angie cleared her throat.

She put in a request with the promise of money, eyeing the God up in consideration. The toga was getting old. But it was all he had. So Angie ordered some clothes, guessing his size. When they arrived, they'd figure out the hard way if the dead God could change his clothes or not.

"How do you do that research thing?" He demanded.

"You mean use a book?"

"No. I mean that thing you do with the light boxes."