“I think I’d die,” she says, not a trace of a joke. “It’s time for space, Lover Boy.”
I stiffen. “Did you just call me Lover Boy?”
She turns to look at me, humor and amusement dancing in her hazel eyes. “You call me by that ridiculous ‘bae’ name. I’ve never been one for nicknames, but I decided you needed one. Lover Boysuits you. You are very much the embodiment of the term. Go grab a dictionary. Your face will be next to the entry.”
I laugh, soaking in this side of Lorelei. I stand and grab my laptop from the floor, prepared to allow her the time she needs to process everything that’s happened emotionally between us tonight, but before I leave, I tell her, “You can call me whatever you want as long as you never let me go.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Lorelei
“You are stupidly in love,” Lucy pokes me in the arm as we lay in bed, deadened bodies with overactive minds. We got home earlier this morning, and we are both exhausted from traveling. Our bodies don’t know if we should be in Central Time or Central European Time. We are caught somewhere in between right now.
“I’m stupidly tired,” I retort. “So get out of my bed so I can sleep.”
She clicks her tongue, rolling over on her side to look at me, propping her head in her hand. “I’m happy for you, Lor. Jealous, yes. But very happy. Plus I have a lot of story inspiration from our trip to Korsa. Did you see the massive mermaid fountain in the gardens? I can use that somehow in my merman and female pirate story. Maybe the merfolk are connected to Korsa somehow…” she teeters off, deep in thought. “Oh! I’ve got it. I need to go write it down.”
“Yes, yes! Go write down your epic tale, Lucy May.” I shove her, and she rolls her eyes but scrambles off my bed and through the door. To my dismay, Frizzle takes her place.
I groan. “What does a girl have to do to get some peace and quiet around here, huh, Frizzle?” She answers with a rumbly purr before settling in next to me. “You’re coming to Korsa with me, right? I forgot to ask if pets were allowed in the palace.”
I grab my phone from the stand and open Finley’s text thread. We don’t text often, as we are typically both busy with work when apart, but the thread is still pretty lengthy.
Can Frizzle move to Korsa with me?
He doesn’t respond immediately, so I set my phone down and allow my brain space to spiral. I’m moving in a little over a month. A week after we travel to Dallas for Mason and Karoline’s wedding. That’s a lot of travel crunched closely together. Will I be okay? My routines are going to shift so much. I lost it last night while in Korsa when I woke up to take a few steps around my bed to go to the bathroom, but the bathroom wasn’t there. I ran into a wardrobe instead. I freaked out, ran in my night clothes to the room next door because through the fog I remembered that’s where my sister was, and cried uncontrollably for at least an hour, probably longer, before I settled down and slept with her the rest of the night. She told me a story to calm me down, one about a brave woman who stepped outside of her comfort zone to create a new and better comfort zone.
Yes, she was definitely speaking of me, but as I listened, I realized she was right. I’ve been stuck my entire life. Chained to myroutines. They are good, and I do absolutely need them to stay sane, but I can deviate sometimes. I can allow myself to change. I can take on big tasks. I don’t have to allow my weirdly wired brain to hold me back from something I love.
SomeoneI love.
I check my phone.
Yes. Will Frannie be joining our happy little relocation?
I chuckle before quickly typing back that I have to leave her with Lucy. Finley has started using that term,relocation, since this morning when I told him of my meltdown in the middle of the night. I logically know that moving and relocating are the same thing, but relocation feels safer somehow. Like I am picking up what I already have and am setting it down somewhere new. Moving feels like Goliath. Big and scary and something new. And well, I’m not David. The story of slaying a giant was never meant for me, anyhow.
The best I can do is trick my brain with synonyms.
And sleep. I should really get some sleep.
I put my phone on my nightstand and tug my quilt up to my chin. Frizzle riots and scratches my arm while attempting to get out from underneath the cocoon, which is perfectly fine with me. I like having the bed to myself.
But then I start thinking of the fact that I will have to sleep next to a person every single night for the rest of my life after I get married. Am I truly ready for that?
I think of Finley’s boyish smile and vibrant eyes. I imagine his intoxicating natural scent of incoming winter showers. I hear his voice whispering that he loves me and feel the phantom touch of his fingers trailing down my back. His lips moving against mine…
If it’s with Finley, I think I’ll be okay.
After inviting Mr. Austen to my regularly scheduled office tea time, I start to prepare water and mugs. More accurately, I demanded he come to tea time today, but that’s neither here nor there.
I need to tell him that I have a month of work left.
Because I’m relocating to Korsa.
Where I will no longer practice law but I will use all my accumulated knowledge to serve in philanthropic ways alongside Maria, Johan’s wife. Once I mentioned to her that I was a lawyer, she swept me away and showed me her work area, filled to the brim with legal matters concerning family law in Korsa.
She became one of my new favorite people on the spot.
