Page 129

“Because she’s worth it,” he said, pouring a few ounces and handing the glass over. “And I love her enough to endure it. Do you love him?” he asked baldly.

“I do,” I whispered. “I don’t think I’ve ever loved anyone like I loved—love—him. I don’t know if I will again.”

His eyes softened in understanding. “In Ireland…” He trailed off, and I went rigid. “In Ireland, we believe all lives come back around. That what is meant for us will always come back to us.”

What were the odds? It felt like a cruel joke from the universe.

“You’re Irish?”

He bobbed his head. “In a sense. Why?” Disbelief flickered over him at my stunned silence, at the mouth I was sure was scraping against the beautiful white marble below my hands. “Shit, really?”

I winced. “Really. Just got back.”

He chuckled, cocktail shakers moving. He was seamless, water flowing downstream. “Then take this as a sign,” he said easily, “what’s yours will always come back to you. I believe that.” He looked to the door again, agony in every line on his face. Then, more quietly, “I have to believe that.”

“I hope you find her soon,” I murmured.

“Likewise.” He held up the empty shot glass, question in his gaze. I nodded. He refilled my own glass before filling his. He clinked it against mine with a muttered, “Sláinte.” He tapped the bottom of the shot glass against the bar before bringing it to his mouth and knocking it back.

I followed suit, the burn this time not quite as bad. I ordered our drinks and watched him while I waited. There was something restless about him, something…untethered. The wheel overhead clicked and spun and for a moment I swore I watched a star vault through the haze above my head.

I miss him, I thought. I wish…I wish I could see him again.

The bartender returned with our drinks. I thanked him for the council and he waved me off, gold eyes twinkling.

“Come back and let me know if I’m right,” he called as I walked away.

“I will!”

I found Marissa on the floor. We downed our drinks and danced. For a moment, I lost myself in the music and crush of bodies around me. I thought I saw him in the shadows, lounging lazily in one of the velvet armchairs. His knees were spread, arm draped along the back. One hand rubbed against his jaw, but his eyes were on me. Wholly. Completely.

I thought that this place might have had some sort of witchcraft in it because he faded, leaving a sprinkle of gold dust behind.

We stumbled out onto a chilly New York street a little after one a.m., feet and heads aching. I looked back at the bartender one last time, but he was staring at the wheel on the ceiling like it’d taken something from him.

What’s yours will always find its way back to you.

I locked his words down tight and prayed, for all I was worth, that he was right.

Chapter 36

Wolfe

This was meant to be a place of rest, and yet…

He found that he could not.

Everything was here. The air and land around him was tipped in rose-gold and bronze. He existed by a gentle sea, waves lapping at the shore. It felt like a dream, hazy and soft against his skin. He had his family. His brother. The air was always sweet and cool when it blew past him.

This was meant to be Paradise.

Everything he ever wanted and needed.

Instead, Wolfe found himself sitting in front of the mirror that let him peer through the clouds back to the world below. Almost a year now of watching, of pressing his hand to that cool silver wishing he could step inside it and through it. He’d take the busy streets and the lack of fresh air if it meant he was back by her side.

His family couldn’t understand.

This was it. This was everything. They were reunited.