The hours.
She knew, the moment he left her at the Great Exhibition, that she was wrong. It was never about letting him go before she loses him. It was about letting him go before she loves him.
Too late.
“Don’t you ever leave me like that!” Her voice breaks with the weight of her fear and her sorrow, of what she can’t prevent and can’t escape. She thought she had no tears left, but she’s crying again, too exhausted to stop. Too raw. It hurts too much to think about losing him tonight.
Oliver wraps his arms around her, whispers, “I’m sorry” over and over into her hair as she falls apart, until the words are just the sound of his voice, anchoring her in this storm.
When her tears have stopped falling, he takes her face in his hands and he kisses her, gentle, but sure. She can taste salt on his lips.
“I am so sorry, Bea. I didn’t mean to…” His voice trails off as he hugs her to him, and she wonders what he didn’t mean to do.
Didn’t mean to scare her? Didn’t mean to hurt her? Didn’t mean to make her fall stupidly, hopelessly, in love with him?
“Stay with me. Please,” she whispers. And she means now, tonight, but maybe forever, too. “I don’t want to be alone.”
He places a kiss on her temple. “Okay.”
She almost cries again.
Beatrix climbs into bed. She slips between the cool sheets and pulls the patchwork quilt up to her chin. Oliver sits on the edge, the weight of him shifting the mattress beneath her. He slips off his shoes and pulls off his sweater, tosses it into the corner with his coat. He reaches over and turns off the bedside lamp before lying next to her, a reassuring presence in the darkness.
She slides closer to him, lays her head against his chest, listens to thesteady rhythm of his heartbeat through the thin cotton of his T-shirt. He wraps his arm around her and holds her close. His fingers graze the curve of her waist.
Stay with me. Stay with me. Stay with me.
The words echo in her head, in rhythm with Oliver’s heartbeat. An impossible hope, lulling her to sleep.
Beatrix wakes at dawn, her body pressed into Oliver’s, his arm draped across her. And she thinks maybe, if she keeps her eyes shut, keeps the world out for a moment longer, she can hold on to it. Hold on to him. She commits the feel of his body against hers to memory—the warmth and weight of him, his even breath in her hair—afraid that when she opens her eyes, it will all slip away like a dream. Afraid she will never have a moment like this again. But when she opens her eyes, he is still there, still with her.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
He doesn’t stir.
The sun breaks the horizon through the crack in the drapes, spilling a golden light over Barnbow. Beatrix slips out of bed and pads over to the window. She pushes the curtain aside and watches the sun rise over the sleepy town. Do they know what happened? She grazes her thumb against the spot where her iron ring should be sitting. She’s left it—everything—at the factory.
“How are you feeling?” Oliver studies her from the bed, as if he’s trying to decide how fragile she is this morning. Or maybe, now that he has seen the effects of the faerie’s curse with his own eyes, he simply can’t believe she’s real.
Beatrix waves her healed hand. “Good as new.”
He slides out of bed and joins her at the window. He wraps his arms around her and props his chin on her shoulder. She leans into him.
“How are youreallyfeeling?”
She feels unmoored. It is always like this, when she has cheated a death. A brutal reminder that she is not like the rest of the world, that she has no place in it.
She forces a smile. “I’ll live.”
Oliver doesn’t laugh. He steps in front of her and takes her face in his hands. “Talk to me, Bea. Please.”
Looking into his eyes, her smile falters. She lets her mask slip. “I’ll live.” Sharp tears sting her eyes as the weight of her words settles heavy in her bones. She’ll live. And she’ll live and she’ll live and she’ll live.
“I know,” Oliver says. His hands fall away.
Her gaze slides over the horizon, to the spot where black smoke trails into the rose-pink sky. “You knew that would happen last night, didn’t you?”
Oliver steps back so he can look her in the eyes. “I wanted to stop it. I wanted to change it. But there was nothing I could do.”
