She thought of and discarded one response after another.I’ve been beside myself all evening. I’ve never felt this way about anyone. I won’t be right until you’re back here, safe.She glanced over her shoulder at Bernie and Willi, both studiously pretending they weren’t listening.
Her hesitation gave Hartgrave the final word.
“By the way, I promise I’veneverthought of you as Rapunzel,” he said. “Your hair’s far too short for that.”
Willi went home to get some sleep, promising to return in four hours when Bernie would leave for the trek to Des Moines International Airport. Forget Rapunzel—she felt like a child. Or a lightly guarded prisoner.
Bernie settled in the chair. “You really think you won’t be able to sleep?”
“Yes.”
He grinned. “So ... you and Hartgrave.”
When she didn’t take this bait, he said, “Well?”
“What, you want the whole story?” She sat cross-legged on the bed, feeling like a participant in the weirdest sleepover ever. “It’s the usual: Girl and boy dislike each other, girl discovers boy is a magic-user and pesters him, boy decides he actually likes girl for some odd reason, boy kisses girl—”
“When?”
“The first time? Right before I left for Christmas. I was so shocked, it ended badly.”
“Hah! Willi owes me ten bucks.”
She stared at him. “Did you two reprobates have some sort of pool going?”
“No, no, I bet him that Hartgrave’s foul mood while you were gone was the result of rejected attentions. Willi thought he was just grumpy because you were gone. But a pool would have been a good idea, too.”
“That’s—that’s ...” She tried to glare at him but couldn’t quite manage it. “You ought to be ashamed of yourself, trying to make money off his hurt feelings.”
“Oh, I am. Thoroughly.”
That felt like the first of a two-shoe routine. She raised her eyebrows, waiting for him to drop the other one.
“You know,” he said, as if this were just occurring to him, “you ought to yell at Willi when he gets back. Be sure to tell him how terrible it was that we were making light of Hartgrave right after his attentions had been rejected.”
She blew a raspberry at him.
They waited quietly for a while, Bernie dipping into and out of sleep. As the time neared for him to leave, she asked the question nipping at her since Hartgrave insisted—ordered—that she stay.
“Am I making a mistake, getting involved with him?”
Bernie squinted at her, yawning. “You’re asking for relationship advice from the guy who’s never been serious enough with anyone to have an anniversary?”
“Youknowhim. You know him a lot better than I do.”
“Longer than you, but probably not better,” he said. “He’s had such bad experiences with people, he’s loath to trust anyone—I’ve had the darndest time persuading him to tell me things I obviously need to know.”
“Sounds familiar,” she muttered.
“Right? That’s my point—the faults I know about, you know about, too. He’s not easygoing. He always insists on his way, and sure, he’s often right, but it’s aggravating. And he’s got a biting sense of humor.”
She nodded, though she’d stopped seeing those things as faults and started thinking of them as essential parts of him, bitter ingredients that made for a flavorful stew.
Bernie stretched, rubbing his back. “But he’s very honorable. He’s spent years trying to right a wrong when it would have been better for him personally to do nothing. And he saved my life,” he added, wagging a finger at her, “so in conclusion: He’s perfection itself, and don’t you dare break his heart.”
Always back to jokes. She pondered how to get a serious answer out of him and settled on, “What if I were your daughter? Would you give your blessing then?”
He considered this for so long, she was sure the answer would be no, and it filled her with anxiety. She didn’twantit to be no. She wanted it to be—
