‘Yes.’ I sat down on the edge of the window seat, holding one of the little plush pillows in my lap. ‘And now here you are.’
‘Maybe my heart heard you,’ he whispered. ‘And maybe yours heard mine.’
Spanish moss swayed in the branches of Lafayette Square’s oak trees and a light breeze picked up, cutting through the humid night. Wyn’s eyes glowed, moss green and slate grey with flashes of bronze and rich, deep brown. Even if I had a hundred years, I wouldn’t be able to put a name to every single colour in his eyes but I would be very happy to try.
‘I’ve never seen green eyes like yours before,’ he said, stealing my thoughts and my heart. ‘They’re beautiful.’
‘You took the words right out of my mouth,’ I replied. ‘Can you read my mind, Wyn Evans?’
With grace I could only dream of, he crouched down, balancing on his toes to bring us face to face and stared at me the exact same way I was staring at him. Everything fell silent and still. Even the cicadas quieted themselves for us.
‘My life is very complicated right now,’ Wyn said, shaking his head as though he couldn’t believe what he was saying.‘There are so many things I should be doing but you’re all I can think about. I can’t concentrate on anything else.’
‘I don’t want to get in the way of your studies,’ I said, totally half-hearted. I wanted to get in the way of his everything. His hand slipped over the threshold of the window and rested on my knee.
‘You’re not in my way. You are my way.’
A shooting star streaked across the black velvet night as his hand moved up my leg, grazing my thigh, the hem of my shirt. I held my breath as he found my hand and covered it with his, stilling a tremble I couldn’t control on my own. He was so close. It would take less than nothing to pull him in to me, run my hands over his body and feel it respond in the ways I’d already dreamed of. An undeniable urge to make him mine surged through me but this wasn’t the right time, we both knew it. I held my breath, waiting for the moment to pass but it lingered and I wondered if this yearning would ever truly leave.
‘Hey, look.’ Wyn raised our joined hands up to the sky. ‘A shooting star.’
‘There’s another one?’ I craned my neck to better see out the window. Sure enough, there was. Quickly followed by another. And another.
‘It’s a meteor shower,’ he said, quietly delighted. ‘I’ve never seen one so bright before, even in the mountains.’
He rocked back on his heels as the sky put on its sparkling show just for us. I handed him a pillow and we lay down side-by-side, Wyn on the balcony, me on the window seat, his little finger curled around mine. The breeze caught single strands of my hair and made them dance around my face.
‘Stay for a while?’
A question and a command, one he accepted willingly.
‘Forever,’ he vowed.
And in the sky above, we watched ancient meteors soar through the night, burning too brightly before melting away into nothing at all.
Chapter Twenty-One
I woke up on the window seat, my window still raised but the balcony empty. Wyn was gone. When I sat up, a piece of paper fluttered to the floor.
Didn’t want to wake you. Meet me by our tree at two xo
Down in the square, commuters rushed by on their way to work, sweltering in their shirts and ties, and dog walkers strode down the footpaths with purpose, little green baggies dangling from their fanny packs while their four-legged friends galloped over the grass. Even though the breeze had vanished and the weather was as hot and muggy as ever, they all wore smiles as they slowed under the shelter of the shade of our oak tree or lingered by the fountain. It was a perfect morning. Who could be anything other than happy on a day like this?
Four agonizingly slow hours had passed since breakfast, when I’d devoured so much food, Ashley asked if I’d developed a tapeworm overnight, and it was still only midday. I’d spent my morning in the garden, meeting more herbs and flowers and learning how to blend them together to achieve different results. It wasn’t just the combination, Catherine explained beforedisappearing on another mysterious errand, it was the intention behind it. Anyone could make a lavender tea but the way it was prepared, on what day of the lunar cycle, using which tools – all those things made a difference.
‘Emily?’ I heard Ashley yell from inside the house. ‘You have a visitor.’
I leapt to my feet and ran back inside. Was it him? Was he feeling just as impatient? But this time, instead of expecting Lydia and finding Wyn, I expected Wyn and found Lydia, a scowl on her face, arms wrapped around her chest, one toe tapping the floor like a cornered animal. It looked as though the only thing she disliked more than the city of Charleston was Ashley Bell.
‘Hi!’ I called happily, Ashley glowering menacingly at the pair of us. ‘Why don’t we go up to my room?’
‘Gladly.’ Lydia sidestepped my aunt and followed me up the curved staircase. She paused, her face pressed close to the wallpaper. ‘Huh. When you walk by, it kinda looks like the vines are growing.’
‘Optical illusion,’ I replied, pulling her up the last couple of steps and into my bedroom.
‘This house is wild,’ she declared, a statement, not a judgement. ‘It’s like a living museum. Miss Catherine ought to let them film movies here or something.’
‘I wouldn’t count on that happening any time soon,’ I told her as I set two glasses of freshly made lemonade on my desk.
