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The day she walked toward me down the aisle, I forgot how to breathe. The world hushed itself—even my own heartbeat—so that all I could hear was the sound of her steps walking toward me. How could one such as I deserve a woman as precious as Isla? I couldn’t comprehend that she walked toward me ... to me. I couldn’t stop the tears blurring her approach. She was not merely beautiful. She was a gift I did not deserve. A woman more prized than any treasure. The moment her hand found mine, I understood what no book could teach: that eternity is not measured in stars or centuries, but in keeping my vows. Today she became my wife. Today I became complete. I never want us to part, yet I will never be worthy of her. All I can promise is that I will stay by her side in this life and the next and do my best to let her know she is loved, she is wanted. I loved her then. I love her now. I will love her forever.
Her eyes blurred. She could feel his love radiating off the page, reaching through the centuries to find her again.
Chapter Forty-Four
December 28th
Andrew lay on the couch, wide awake. He threw and caught a snowball above his head. Tonight, Isla would open the first memory he had written that wasn’t rooted in the present. Would she think he’d gone barmy—lost the plot, off his trolley, stark raving mad, away with the fairies? The phrases swarmed his mind, circling restlessly.
In some ways he was glad she was close, here in his apartment. But in others, he longed to hide. Had he revealed their history too soon? He’d only given her a few entries before he hit her with the truth. Would she shrink from it, close herself off, abandon the fragile thread of what was growing between them? She couldn’t remember their previous lives. She might not even want forever with him.
He sat up and pushed his glasses into place. The room was dark and cold. A life without Isla would be the same: dark and cold. Her mind, her smile—they lit his world. It was after midnight. Had she read it already?
A door creaked. Andrew snapped his head toward his bedroom. Isla stood there, barefoot in her dressing gown. She looked at him in silence, her expression unreadable. You’d think that after centuries of being married to her, of living beside her year after year, he would know how to read her silence. But he didn’t.
He rose slowly from the couch, careful not to startle her. The snowball splatted on the floor as terror coiled in his chest. Had he ruined everything? Was this the end before they had even begun? He faced her, waiting, but still she said nothing. He couldn’t take not knowing anymore; he had to ask.
“Isla, I...” His voice faltered, fear clamping his throat. “I’m sorry. I never meant to overwhelm you. If you need space, I’ll understand, I—”
She cut him off. “Your words. Your memories. Did you mean them? I can’t believe you want me still after all this time.”
His answer came rough, hoarse. “I am nothing if I don’t have you.”
She ran and flew into his arms before he could draw breath, colliding with such force that he nearly stumbled. Her lips found his, urgent, searching, as though she too remembered the lives they had shared. Tears spilled down his cheeks, and he tasted salt just before she drew back.
“Andrew ...”
He wiped at his face with a trembling hand and cupped her cheeks. “I’m sorry, Isla. I feared you’d read that passage tonight and that my words would drive you away.” A sob broke loose in his chest. “I remember your last death, Isla. I remember the terror of losing you, the hollow fear I wouldn’t find you again. I feel it every time we part—and every time, when I do find you, I’m afraid you might not want me in this life. Your kiss, your touch—I don’t have words for what it means to hold you again, now that you know our history.”
Her eyes shone. “I don’t remember our past lives the way you do, but when I read that passage, it was as though my soul remembered. Andrew, I love you. I only struggle with accepting being wanted so completely.”
He leaned in, pressing soft, desperate kisses across her cheeks, her temple, her lips. Between each one he whispered, “I will always want you, Isla. You are part of my very being.”
He pulled her closer, his arms wrapping around her. Isla softened against him further still, relaxed as she leaned in. They held one another, breathing the same breath. Both stunned, absorbing what their confessions could mean for their future.
A sudden pounding at the door made them move apart. Andrew opened the door cautiously and Edmund entered, his face taut with agitation.
“They’re coming for Isla tonight,” Edmund said.
Andrew’s stomach dropped. “What? Why? She doesn’t even have the journal anymore.” He moved instantly back to Isla’s side, sliding an arm protectively around her. She couldn’t be in danger now—not when they had just confessed the full reality of their feelings for each other.
“I don’t know if word hasn’t reached them yet about the journal,” Edmund said grimly, “or if they don’t care. It could be they want to eliminate what they think is in her mind or are just plain mad that she didn’t join them.”
“But I haven’t read Ray’s journal.”
“I know that, but they don’t.”
Andrew’s voice sharpened. “How do you know they’re coming?”
A door creaked behind them and Juliette stumbled out, her long hair in disarray. “What’s happening?” she asked, her voice thick with sleep.
“Isla is being targeted again tonight. We have been periodically checking the book in the library. I just found out that a group are after her tonight. Harold has a few men who are willing to help, though he’s struggling to know who to trust.With corruption coming from within, it’s been hard to ferret out who exactly is in the crime ring. He’s sent them to try to intercept the criminals, but the three of us need to guard her.”
Juliette straightened at once, her drowsiness gone. “They won’t get her.”
Edmund’s mouth tightened. “They already know she’s here. In your apartment, Andrew. If Harold’s men can’t hold them off, this isn’t the place to sit and wait. And we don’t know how many are coming.”
