No fear.
Just presence.
He doesn’t come in. He knows this isn’t his moment to take. He knows it’s one I have to survive on my own.
A lighthouse that never once demanded I swim faster.
I turn away from the mirror before I can lose my nerve.
Then he’s there.
Older. Familiar. Smaller somehow.
Blake pauses when he sees me, like he’s hit an invisible wall. His eyes flick behind me once, twice. Searching.
I know exactly what he’s looking for.
Pandora.
He swallows. Fidgets with his fingers.
He nods too quickly. Stumbles back. “Yeah. Yeah. I was just… I thought…”
“You thought someone else might come,” I say softly.
His mouth opens. Closes.
I look up at him and motion to the seat again for him to sit.
He doesn’t.
“Are you waiting for someone?” I ask, tilting my head.
His gaze drops to the table. Then lifts to my face, uncertain. Raw.
“Yes,” he says.
I smile. Wicked. Sad. Tender. All at once.
“That seat’s taken,” I say lightly. “Just not by who you think.”
His eyes sharpen. Confused.
I lick my bottom lip. Lean back.
“Pandora,” I say. “Nice to finally meet you.”
The world tilts.
He goes pale. Then red. Then something like grief claws up his throat.
“It’s not even Halloween yet,” I continue, voice velvet and steel, “and I’m dressed up as the love of your life.”
Silence detonates between us.
He sits.
The silence stretches long enough to hurt.
