And there isn’t enough time, and he knows of course that there will never be.
That time always ends a second before you’re ready.
That life is the minutes you want minus one.
Time moves so fucking fast.
Blink, and you’re halfway through school, paralyzed by the idea that whatever you choose to do, it means choosing not to do a hundred other things,
“What are you doing here?”
Luc has the nerve to look affronted. “It’s our anniversary. Surely you haven’t forgotten.”
“It’s been forty years.”
“Whose fault is that?”
“Yours, entirely.”
“Hello, Adeline,” says the darkness, and though he is across the room, the words brush like leaves against her skin.
She turns in her seat, free hand rising to the open collar of her robe. “Go away.”
The advance will be enough to pay off his student loans, enough to let him breathe a little while he figures out what he’s going to do next. He doesn’t know yet what that is, but for the first time, it doesn’t scare him.
And then he whispers three words into her hair.
“I love you,” he says, and Addie wonders if this is love, this gentle thing.
If it is meant to be this soft, this kind.
“A dreamer” scorns her mother.
“A dreamer,” mourns her father.
“A dreamer,” warns Estele.
Still, it does not seem such a bad word.
Until Adeline wakes up.
Three hundred years she’s tested the confines of her deal, found the places where it gives, the subtle bend and flex around the bars, but never a way out.
And yet.
Somehow, impossibly, Henry has found a way in.
Somehow, he remembers her.
”A shop full of antique books, and you steal a battered paperback of The Odyssey? You know this won’t fetch anything, right?”
Addie holds his gaze. “Who says I wanted to resell it?”
“It’s also in Greek.”
”Adeline.” That name, it strikes like flint on his tongue, sparks an answering light behind her ribs. His gaze drifts over her new dress. “You’re looking well.”
“I look the same.”
There is Luc, dressed in an elegant black suit. He is beautiful. He is always beautiful.
“Hello, my dear.”
Max’s frown deepens. “Do you two know each other?”
”No,” she says at the same time Luc says “Yes.”
“Do not sulk, simply because you chose poorly.”
“Did I though?” she counters.
“After all, I am free.”
“And forgotten.”
But she is ready for the barb. “Most things are.”
She knows she doesn’t have the strength to ruin anything, and yet she did. They did. Perhaps he let her start the fire. Perhaps he simply let it burn..