“Did we make it?” Duke asked, still groggy from the leap.
“Maybe?” Prying my eyes open, I looked around, saw books, bookshelves, dark paneling, and Koshka, of course, who was half-asleep on top of the open pages. “We made it.”
Luckily, we’d landed on the sofa together, Duke mostly on the bottom. I tried to get up, but admittedly I didn’t try very hard. A wave of dizziness hit me, and I had to close my eyes again and rest my head on Duke’s chest.
“I hate Wonderland. Did I mention that?”
“You mentioned it several times,” he said. “Now I understand why. That was…troubling.”
“Talking teapots are only cute in cartoons.”
Duke stroked my back. “I’m sorry we didn’t find your Hare. We’ll keep looking.”
“It’s staring me in the face, apparently. But the only thing staring me in the face right now is you. Are you the March Hare?”
“I am neither March nor Hare,” he said, then winced.
“What’s wrong?”
“Something is digging into my hip. Hold on.” He wrapped his arm around my back, twisted us both to the side, and yanked a champagne bottle out from under one of the sofa cushions.
I took the bottle and set it on the floor. “Everyone in this book needs a liver biopsy.”
“They’re fictional,” Duke reminded me. “They’ve been partying here a hundred years.”
“Then theyreallyneed liver biopsies.” I rested my chin on my hands and looked up at him. “That’s a joke, by the way. I know they’re fictional and therefore immortal, more or less. Lucky them.”
“Immortality is overrated.” Duke brought his hand to my neck, stroking it. “I’d far rather be able to grow old.”
“Really? Why?”
“If I can’t grow old, I can’t grow old with you.”
Ever have anyone say something so violently sweet to you that it felt like a punch in the stomach?
“Stop being wonderful,” I said. “You’re making it worse.”
“Would it make it better or worse if I kissed you?”
“Ground rules,” I said.
“Very well,” he sighed.
He did kiss me then, but only on my forehead. It was exactly what I needed. I laid my head on his chest again and let him hold me.
“I know this is stupid,” I said, “but I thought it would be easy. Jump into the story. Interrogate the March Hare until he spilled the beans about where Pops had been taken and where my book was and all that. Now that I think about it, that really would have been too easy. Too literal.”
“Don’t give up. We did learn we have the wrong March Hare. Therefore there is a right March Hare. We just need to find him. And, if it comforts you, in my cases, I never get it right the first time.”
“No offense, but your cases are fictional. If you got it right the first time, the book would be very short.”
“Longer story, more time with you,” he said.
I lifted my head. “Thanks. I couldn’t do this without you.”
“You could, but I won’t let you.”
Koshka jumped off the book and trotted over to us. Very reluctantly, I pulled away from Duke’s arms and stood up.
