Her hurts slowly morphed into anger when she thought of what they’d both been through. She eased from his embrace.
“I still don’t understand how you got this letter,” she said. “It has our nicknames. It talks about our argument. Did your father—”
Ignacio shook his head. “He couldn’t have faked somethinglike this. There would have been a mistake. Some sort of tell. I know your handwriting through and through. I know the bit of humor woven through the fabric of each sentence you write. There’s no mimicking that.”
“Unless he used enchanted ink,” she offered. “Like my cards.”
They both stared at each other as that possibility sank in.
“So, you didn’t write those words,” he whispered.
“No.”
He sighed and rested his forehead on hers. “I thought you finally realized you were too good for me.”
“How could you think such a thing?” she asked.
“Look at you, Dovie. You’re so…you’re…You shine. You light up every room you walk into. Your laughter is contagious. You aren’t afraid of causing a ruckus. I always worried you’d grow bored of me. That I would disappoint you somehow.”
“Never,” she whispered.
His chin quivered. “An entire year of missing you. Of yearning and aching and thinking my bones might break from the weight of your absence. It could have been prevented. If I was better…if I didn’t fail you—”
“You didn’t.” Tenderly, she cupped his face with her hands. His honey-colored eyes pierced into hers. Yet, he said nothing.
He didn’t have to. She could see every emotion in his gaze. The pain, the regret, the love. She hoped he saw hers too.
“We both made mistakes,” she admitted. “We were so naïve. How could we possibly know your father would do something like that, even if he is the world’s largest prick?”
Ignacio snorted. “You’ve always had a way with words.”
“I know. It’s why you love me.”
His face grew serious. “I do.” His fingers slid over her own. “You must know that I’ve always loved you. I never stopped. Not for one second. Even when I tried to quit you, my heart must have known the truth. That our love is real. It’s not some enchantedthing.”
He had changed so much during their time apart, and so had she, but the depth of their feelings had remained. It wasn’t just the physical—though, that was there too—it was more. It was the true knowing of each other. The history they shared and the future they once spoke of. The laughter and tears and comfort they gave.
Their lips found each other’s, and every part of her bloomed to life.
He tasted like a warm summer night. He tasted like home. Her home. And she never wanted to be apart from him again.
The door to the boxcar screeched open, and Esmeralda and Ignacio broke away. One of the ringmaster’s ratas peered in.Does the ringmaster know we snuck inside his office?Ignacio put his body in front of hers, shielding her from what was to come.
“We’re packing up for the next stop,” the rata said.
Packing up? Was it daybreak already?She didn’t even get to open her fortune teller wagon once. Granted, she had been busy performing. And sneaking into the ringmaster’s office. And unraveling all the secrets of her past.
“I need to pack my wagon,” Esmeralda said.
“I’ll come with you,” he replied.
“No, you won’t. All strong bodies are assigned to tentteardown,” the rata said to Ignacio. “Hurry up, we don’t have all morning.” The rata spun on his heels and marched off into the sunrise.
She and Ignacio sighed with relief. “Looks like the ringmaster doesn’t know we were in his office,” she said.
Ignacio’s eyes darkened. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned in the past year, it’s to never trust what I don’t know for certain.”
They stood. She blushed at how silly she’d been for messing up his bedding when she had first found his bunk.
