Dressing quickly, she met Liam in her bathroom. “I really wanted you here for one more day, but I’m afraid we have to go.”
He nodded, keeping his distance. All the walls she’d so carefully deconstructed it seemed were back in place. “It’s all right. I’m ready.”
Chapter
Seventeen
At thirty-eight years old, Liam had experienced more than one awkward situation where he was caught in bed with a woman. The first was at seventeen when his girlfriend’s mother walked in on them. The second was an angry ex-husband. But he could count this as a first. Having a man the size of a dump truck yank him out of bed by the scruff of his neck and shake him like a rag doll was an experience he never wished to repeat even if leaving Charlotte was going to break his heart.
“I’ll take you back to the exact moment I brought you here. It’ll be like this never happened.”
Like it never happened, he repeated in his head. They’d moved to her ritual room where he’d changed into his base layer and she was helping to fasten him into the big red suit. He put on his helmet before he was tempted to kiss her goodbye. It would only make things worse. He already felt like someone had reached down his throat with a giant pair of forceps and was trying to extract his heart through his mouth. His skin hurt every time he thought about never seeing her again. The only thing he could do was refuse to think of it and focus on returning to the work he’d left behind.
Helmet on, he brought his equipment back up. Oxygen ninety-nine percent. Temperature normal. Heart rate within range. “I’m ready,” he said, finding a spot on the floor to concentrate on. Anything to keep from looking at her.
Inside the symbol at the center of the room, she spread her hands and a window elongated between them. Through it, he could see his rover, headlights glowing in the snow. She adjusted her hands and there he was. This was the moment in time when she’d arrived.
She linked her arm with his, her touch miserably unfelt thanks to the padding of the suit. The window grew larger. She stepped forward, and seconds later he was standing on the ice, in the headlights of his Arctic rover.
“Liam, you there, buddy?” Noah said into his intercom.
Frantically he turned until he could see her face through his visor and the tear that cut a glistening trail down her cheek, somehow defying the freezing temperatures.
“Goodbye, Liam,” she mouthed.
“It happened,” he yelled, reaching for her. “It happened!” I love you, he added in his head although that couldn’t be true. He hadn’t known her long enough to love her. He swallowed the words down.
She took one step back and then another, nodding and mouthing, it happened. Then she was gone.
“What happened, dude?” Noah said. “Do you need a rescue?”
Tears flowed wet against his cheeks. He couldn’t control them and had no way to wipe them away. He let them drip onto the neck of his suit. “I’m fine, Noah. I’ll explain when I get back. I’m on my way.”
Two weeks later, Liam arrived in Chicago with his ice samples in tow and a giant chip on his shoulder. It hadn’t taken much to convince Noah and the rest of the team that he’d seen a formation in the blowing snow that looked exactly like a person. They’d laughed at his mental hiccup, teased him mercilessly, but ultimately gotten back to work fast enough. They’d evacuated base camp and returned home, and he stowed his ice samples in the university lab where he intended to continue his research before returning to his efficiency apartment in Lake View.
But as he pushed through the door to his home, the interior felt as cold as the Arctic he’d just left. He’d lived here for years but never noticed how empty it was. He dropped his bags on the bed and sat on the edge, missing Charlotte to the marrow of his bones. Maybe he should get a dog. Maybe he should see a therapist. Maybe he should take up drinking. He stared in the direction of his galley kitchen, eyeing the bottle of bourbon on top of his refrigerator. It was a Christmas gift from a fellow professor he’d helped with some research. He’d never opened it.
He strode across the apartment and swiped it from its place, brushing the dust off the bottle. Opening it, he poured himself a glass. Fuck, he didn’t want bourbon. He wanted tribiscal wine. He drank more. It wasn’t satisfying, but he was willing to bet it could numb what was happening in his head.
Three knocks came on his door. Probably Mrs. Thornton from down the hall, bringing him his mail. Groaning, he slid the glass onto the table and padded over to open it.
Charlotte stood in the hall, only it couldn’t be Charlotte. This person had no wings and was wearing human clothing.
“Hi,” she said, and he thought his legs might buckle when it truly was her voice.
“Hi,” he managed. “What happened to—?”
She held a finger to her lips and pointed inside his apartment. He stepped aside, opening the door wider for her. Then he closed and locked the door behind her, as if that lock could keep her there.
“I used magic to hide them,” she said, pointing toward where her wings once were. “So that I could come see you. I should tell you that in my timeline, I left you only minutes ago. I used magic to find when you’d be in Chicago. I only stopped in Paragon long enough to take some of my mother’s human clothes. I know it’s been longer for you.”
“Two weeks.”
“I had to wait until you were back.”
He had so many questions. They should talk, he knew. Communication was important. But at the moment, words wouldn’t come to him. He settled for showing her exactly what he was feeling. He crashed into her, melding his mouth with hers and shuffling her back against the wall where he pressed himself into her. She released a gentle sigh into his mouth and wrapped her arms around his neck. Only when she was thoroughly kissed did he pull back.
“How did you find me?”
