“And what should I call you?”
“Zuriel is fine.”
“Very well.” Hopkins smirks, stepping back, and setting his hand on the cane. “Well, now that you’re both here, we have a museum to open.”
I glance at Zuriel.
“In the meantime, Mr. Zuriel, if you require accommodations, you may stay at my place. I have an extra bedroom, and while it’s overflowing with junk, I believe we can make it suitable, at least until you establish yourself.”
My toes are tapping, taking all this in. It’s overwhelming, and I’m still reeling.
“Thank you. I will need time to decide,” Zuriel responds.
“Of course, no rush. Now if you will excuse me.” He nods to the clock and squares his shoulders, walking to the front doors. “It’s time to unlock the door.”
There’s the shuffle of customers outside awaiting the museum’s reopening, and with the curtains closed, I didn’t realize anyone was waiting.
Surprised, I open the closest curtains, lifting them aside so light can flood the room. It’s been ages since this space was lit by natural light, and I tie the drapes in place as Hopkins greets the day’s first tourists.
Cautiously, Zuriel nears the window.
Eyes wide, he rests a hand upon the glass as fat snowflakes drift to the street. They sparkle as the sun pierces through the clouds. Zuriel’s lips tease into a smile. It’s innocent, filled with wonder, and makes me smile too.
I go to him and lean into his side. “There’s so much I can’t wait to show you.”
“I can’t wait to be shown.”
He stands taller, wrapping an arm around my shoulder, holding me against him. We welcome the day’s first customers.
Together.
Ready for anything that might stand in our way.
Epilogue
THE VOW
Zuriel
Sittingin the passenger seat of Summer’s car, I study the landscape drifting by. We left Elmstitch four hours ago, at the crack of dawn, to drive to a place called Washington, DC, and more specifically the Smithsonian American Art Museum for Summer’s friend’s wedding ceremony.
Gritting my teeth, my stomach churns.
“We’re almost there. It’s only another two hours,” Summer whispers, trying to reassure me.
Two hours.Lifting a brown paper bag, I breathe into it.
“We should have flown overnight,” I wheeze. “We could have arrived sooner.”
“Yeah, when pigs fly,” she murmurs. “There is no way you could carry me. And our luggage. And Ella’s wedding gift. Take another Dramamine.” She points to the plastic bag at my feet.
I shuffle through it and find the medicine. “It says right here on the box I’m not supposed to take another dose today.” Closing my eyes, my stomach upends again. I groan weakly. Cars are my weakness. I’ve never been brought so low. Until today, I have not left Elmstitch by vehicle, and the moment Summer hit a road called an ‘interstate’ it was all over for me.
“You’ll be fine. Clearly, two isn’t enough for someone as big as you.”
“I would rather be fighting demons.”
“You’re being a baby.” She laughs softly. “Take the medicine and try to nap. I’ll keep sending you good vibes.”
