Page 104 of Old Flames

Leo returned with breakfast. From the doorway, he called out, “Love, sorry that took so long! I had to wait for fresh waffles. Hope you’re hungry!”

Jules was famished.

She abandoned pen and paper and ran down the spiral stairs, stripping her clothes along the way. There wasn’t much to discard; Leo’s soft cotton T-shirt and her underwear fell onto the steps. By the time she hit the landing, she was free of them. “I hope you’re hungry, too,” she said. “Come here.”

He froze and stared at her with heated brown eyes. Then he scrambled, searching about urgently for a surface to rest the tray. It was loaded with everything the breakfast buffet had on offer in addition to a stack of fresh waffles. Jules watched him, amused, and caught herself giggling. She never giggled. Not ever. Certainly not before her morning coffee or a late-night cocktail. Love was a drug that should come with a warning.

Leo abandoned the tray on the floor, then he rushed to her, lifted her, and carried her up the winding stairs. They tumbled onto the rug on the parquet wood floor, kissing, laughing, loving every minute.

He held her down and bit her shoulder. “How did I get so lucky?”

“You’ve earned it,” Jules said, grabbing at his shirt. “Now relax and enjoy it. This is the honeymoon phase.”

Leo pulled away and gazed down at her. “And how long does that last?”

“A lifetime.”

He took her hands to his lips. “Make it three.”

Interstitial

Dear Juliann,

I arrived at The Aurora a ghost.

You saw something in me, beyond our obvious similarities, a bit of grit beneath the surface. You unlocked abilities I’d only imagined, revealed worlds I’d seen in dreams.

What an adventure . . .

I would not have willingly traveled as far back as the late 1800s, to a night of great loss and tragedy. Given a choice, I would have turned back the clock only a decade to sit at my mother’s bedside for one last goodbye. But you taught me that goodbyes are unnecessary.

She’s with me. I’m with her. There’s no need for goodbye.

I’ve met the love of my life. There won’t be another. If I lose him or if I’m lost, I hope that someone, in my timeline or another, would extend the grace, find me, and lead my heart back to his.

You introduced me to who I am.

July

Epilogue

On his wedding day, Leo’s father offered to help with the tie.

His mother had attended the civil ceremony in the city, but his father showed up for the wedding in Key West.

“Where’s the tie?” Dad asked. “I’ll help with the knot.”

“Upstairs. Give me a minute.”

The tie was on the desk, still in its original packaging. Leo climbed the stairs to the turret and was struck by the feeling that he may never return to this space. He swept a gaze along the curved walls, took in the mismatched chairs and the shelves crammed with books that no one bothered to crack open. It all seemed dull and lifeless, but the windows overlooking the garden framed his future beautifully.

The pergola was strewn with orchids and twinkling lights. Nearby, a string quartet was setting up. Their guests, a dozen or so, were gathered on the lawn, catching up over cocktails. Emily and Richard Carlisle were getting acquainted. Sebastien introduced Alexandre to Dr. Flores. In a short while, they’d take their seats for the ceremony. Daphne would officiate. Vicky and Matty would bear witness. An ornate silver candelabra sat on a simple wood table. Leo had the task of lighting two of the three long white tapers with Ruby’s lighter. He and July would light the third with their twin flames. Their wedding planner had proposed the ritual to honor July’s mother, and it felt right.

July had picked The Aurora as their venue. She wanted to exchange vows at sunset, amid the blooming jasmine and bloodred hibiscus. He wanted whatever she wanted, but for the reception, they’d migrate to their new home, a cottage on Elizabeth Street, a second line brass band leading the way.

When he caught a glimpse of his bride through the glass panes of the sitting room doors, the air grew thin. Leo, lightheaded, could hardly breathe. July was a vision in a short white dress and a long lace veil. Ayesha fussed over her, a proud mother hen. They’d skipped the “first look” the planner had offered to stage. Was it bad luck to see her in this way? Unproduced and unprompted? And what if it was? What did they need luck when they had fate on their side?

A year ago today, July fell through the cracks of time and somehow made it back to him. He’d promised this wedding was the most conventional thing they’d ever do. From now on, they’d take life as it came—write, travel, set roots here and in the city, fill their homes with friends, laughter, art, and music. They’d earned their good fortune and would make the most of it.