Page 80

Hugh lightly swirled the ice in his glass with a gentle rock of his wrist. “Eira passed away somewhat recently too, didn’t she?”

“Unfortunately, our family has dealt with a great deal of loss and heartbreak lately.”

“I’m so sorry,” Hugh repeated, looking pained. “What about the good things happening in your life as of late? You’ve obviously started dating again.”

Saga’s eyes shifted to Avery’s, then back again. She took a drink to belie a casual attitude. “Uh, yes…”

“How’d you meet?”

“I consulted on one of her cases, actually.” It wasn’t a boast, but Saga did feel a swell of pride in her chest. “We caught a murderer together.”

“Really? God, you marvelous thing.”

“No,” Saga laughed. “No, it’s all her. She’s brilliant…” Saga took a drink as she meditated on the multifaceted meaning of that word in regard to Avery. “I’ve never met anyone like her.”

“So it’s serious between you two?”

A stab of suspicion broke her pleasant reverie. Why was he asking that? “It’s new,” she admitted, and his shoulders relaxed. “Why?”

“It’s stupid.”

“Drink more, then tell me,” Saga commented archly.

He hung his head and shifted in his seat. He looked bashful, perhaps even uncomfortable. “I may have felt…a little jealous the other day.”

Avery leaned to the side in her seat, poking out from behind Hugh. Despite being a woman whose stoic expressions Saga often found unreadable, in that moment, they came with subtitles. Incredulous, judgmental, and in-all-caps subtitles. Is this man actually serious right now? “Jealous?” Saga echoed, feeling she was being far too obvious in her attempt to avoid eye contact with Avery.

“I know.” Hugh held his hands up. “I have absolutely no right to feel that. I completely agree. It’s just…” He ran his hands through his sandy blond hair again. “I know what happened, and I’m not saying… It’s just that I saw what I lost that day, and it made my heart ache. Knowing someone else would get to hold your hand and make you smile.” He smiled at her sadly. “I love Lana, Saga, I really do, but there’s a part of me that is always going to love you too.”

Saga had not been prepared to hear that. Despite months of sheepishly wishing he’d say those words, hearing them now left her feeling strange and hollow. She avoided looking at either him or Avery and focused only on the burgundy shellac on her nails when she answered him. “I…love you too, Hugh.”

“Can we be friends again?”

Saga inhaled deeply, clearing the tightness in her chest. She’d imagined having this conversation. He’d apologize, accept responsibility, and seek to repair what was broken. But it was actually happening. “That sounds nice.”

Avery retreated to her position directly behind Hugh and turned back to the bar.

They talked for over an hour. Laughing and catching up. It was…wonderful. She felt wonderful. It was like the past four months had been lifted off her shoulders. She didn’t need supervision at all. She’d done it all on her own. The whole meeting had gone better than she could have hoped.

Hugh paid the tab and gave her a peck on the cheek, promising to text later that week and maybe all four of them could grab tea at that place she loved near Christ’s Church in Oxford. “See you later, Magpie,” he emphasized the nickname with his crooked grin and a wink and walked out.

“Piss off,” Saga laughed after him. When she turned back around, she saw that Avery had taken his seat. She reached for her cell phone and navigated to the camera.

“What are you doing?” Avery asked.

“I want to know what you look like,” said Saga. The face looking back at her was not an ethereal elf of a creature molded from silver and pure moonlight, but a middle-age brunette man with a large beard. She tapped the screen to take a photo and then held it side by side to Avery’s real face. “Wow,” she mused. “He looks nothing like you.”

“You seem in good spirits,” Avery observed.

“Of course, I am,” Saga laughed, putting her phone away. “I mean, you heard the conversation.”

“I did. Did you?”

Saga’s smile waned. “What do you mean?”

“He never apologized,” said Avery simply. “But you still forgave him.”

“Wh—I—Y… Yes, he did.” But even as she said it, she found her mind scraping back over the conversation. He apologized. She remembered him apologizing. “He said he was sorry several times.”