He tickled her side and she squealed, laughing. “I absolutely can.”
“All right, all right—I promise. Backward, one passage at a time.”
He smiled, but behind the teasing, he could tell she knew he was serious about his request. The journal held everything—his feelings for her now, his memories of her across lifetimes, his hopes for their future. He wanted to marry her again, but he wouldn’t ask until she understood their history.
“I promise, Andrew. Thank you for your gift. I didn’t get you anything—I thought I’d be alone.”
The quiet pain in her voice made his chest ache.
“But,” she added, smiling, “you can share the carrot cake Juliette and I made.”
He lifted her arm, the one with the Sigil mark, and drew it to his lips. His kiss landed gently against the inside of her wrist. “Thank you for agreeing to the terms.” He wrapped his other arm around her while still holding onto her wrist, his thumb gently skimming over her soft skin. “I don’t need anything more than this. Though the carrot cake sounds delicious.”
She sighed, the sound soft and content as she leaned against him.
“So, can I read the last entry now? With you?”
“Yes.” His voice came out quieter than he meant, and even he could hear the nerves in it.
Isla smiled faintly and gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. She wriggled a little, settling more comfortably against him before opening the journal to its final page.
“December twenty-third,”she read aloud.
His neat, slanted handwriting stared back at him as Isla’s voice filled the quiet room.
“Today I am preparing for my first Christmas with Isla here in York, and I cannot wait. It’s something I’ve dreamed of for the last couple of years, ever since she came here to work here. When she first arrived, I had to ... engineer ways to cross paths with her. Some of my methods I’m not entirely sure she appreciated, but now I can finally show her that all my annoying smugness and teasing was because I only wanted to spend time with her. Juvenile, perhaps—but it meant I got to be near her. And now I can be, without the pretense. I’m a lucky man.
Out of everyone in the world, she’s the one I want to spend this season with. And I’m grateful she finally knows about the Aetheric Arts—I want no more secrets between us. I hope, as she reads these pages, she’ll understand just how deeply I feel for her.
I’m smiling now, remembering the hug she gave me on the archery field after her first Summon. She’s extraordinary—always has been ... and Iwouldn’t mind holding her again over Christmas. Having Isla in my arms—it feels like home.”
Isla laughed and lightly swatted his shoulder at his cheeky confession, then tucked her head against him.
“You’ve wanted to spend Christmas with me since I started working here?”
“Yes,” he said, without the faintest hesitation.
“And you thoughtannoyingme for two years was the best way to cross paths?”
He gave a small, unapologetic shrug. “In my defense, it worked.” Andrew chuckled as she softly elbowed him. “It got your attention, didn’t it? Not my most sophisticated strategy ... but I’d say it worked out rather well.”
Isla looked up and smiled, half amused, half exasperated. “You really are impossible.”
“Possibly,” he said, grinning. “But hopefully you’ll still keep me around.”
They sat like that for a while, talking about little things. Soon her head lowered and rested against his chest, her breathing steady. He pulled the blanket tighter around them both, letting his cheek rest lightly against her hair.
And there, with snow falling silently beyond the frosted glass, they drifted into sleep together.
Chapter Forty
December 27th
Andrew saw a few students and staff returning to the campus. The last three days had been splendid. He and Isla had played board games, talked, and enjoyed treats. Edmund had joined them for the Christmas Day meal, and between the two of them, Isla had never been left without protection.
Now he sat in his office, lecture notes scattered across the desk as he tried to prepare for the term ahead. His thoughts, however, wandered elsewhere. Isla was with Edmund and Juliette making her own preparations. He missed her; their carefree days had been a blessing.
The memory of Christmas morning drifted back to him—the two of them waking side by side on the sofa, the fire long gone to embers, her hair mussed from sleep and her expression adorably sheepish. They had laughed softly, rising together to make a simple breakfast. Andrew longed for it to become something ordinary in this life the way it had in others.
