"Yes," he admitted quietly. "Not of getting shot. I've been shot at before. But—" He exhaled slowly. "Of losing you before we even figure out what this is."
My chest tightened. "Quentin—"
"I know we've only known each other a short time. I know you lied to me, and I'm still processing that. I know everything about this situation is complicated and dangerous and probably a terrible idea." Another pause. "But when I think about what Serenity saw, all I can think is that I don't want to waste any more time being careful. Being guarded."
"Speaking of what Serenity saw..." I pulled my knees up to my chest, wrapping one arm around them. "She caught me in the lobby. After you went back upstairs."
"She did?" I could hear him shift, probably sitting up. "What did she say?"
"She wanted to touch my hand. See if she could pick up anything else."
"And?"
"She saw us." I smiled despite myself. "Not the restaurant—something further out. She said she saw light and warmth. The two of us laughing together. We were cooking something and—" I laughed softly. "You were teasing me about the mess I'd made, and I threw flour at you."
Silence on the other end of the line.
Then: "Flour?"
"Flour."
"You threw flour at me." His voice was warm with amusement. "That sounds about right."
"Does it?"
"Julia, I've watched you make coffee. You're not exactly tidy in the kitchen."
"Hey! I'm a great cook. I just have a... creative process."
"Is that what we're calling it?" He was definitely smiling now. "So Serenity saw us in some future domestic bliss where you're assaulting me with baking supplies?"
"Apparently." I bit my lip. "She said it was beautiful. That she felt—" My voice dropped. "Love. Real, deep, lasting love. The kind that survives the hard things."
The silence stretched longer this time.
"Quentin?"
"I'm here." His voice had gone rough. "Just thinking about how I don't need a psychic to tell me that."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean I already know. What I feel for you—it's not just about survival or adrenaline or circumstance. It's real." He paused. "And if Serenity saw us throwing flour at each other in some future kitchen, then I'm holding onto that. Because it means we make it through tomorrow. And all the days after."
"You believe her vision?"
"I believe in you. In us." Another rustle of fabric. "And yeah, I believe in Serenity. She hasn't been wrong yet."
I wiped at my eyes, smiling through the tears. "She said we'd find our way to each other. Really find each other."
"We're already starting to." His voice softened. "Aren't we?"
"Yeah. I think we are."
"Good." A yawn crept into his voice. "So tomorrow—we survive the vision. Then we figure out the marriage thing. Andsomewhere down the line, I'm buying a bag of flour just to see if she's right about you throwing it at me."
I laughed. "That's your takeaway from her vision? That you need to prepare for a flour attack?"
"I like to be thorough. Speaking of which—" His tone turned more serious. "When we get to that restaurant, stay close to me. Please."
