I didn’t answer immediately. Of course, it had been because of her. But the price I paid was one I’d bear over and over again, until my skin burned and my blood pooled.
“The house is warded to keep them out. The fence is the line that separates them,” I continued, my voice quiet as I took another sip of wine, the lack of taste grounding me. “Though none have ever found me here.” I paused, the weight of everything lingering between us. “I didn’t get a chance to thank you for calling Day.”
“I didn’t know what to do,” Astoria murmured, as she swirled the wine in her glass before finishing it off in a single, unsteady gulp. Her gaze avoided mine for a moment, her fingers tapping nervously against the stem of the glass. “I thought you would…”
“Die?” I tried to laugh, but it came out too harsh, too bitter. “Death can’t die, Star.” The words barely left my mouth before I wished I could take them back. The truth hung between us. I couldn’t pretend anymore.
I searched my memory, tracing back through every encounter, every glance. "It was a taunt, at first,” I admitted. “You were stubborn, bright, impossible to ignore. I didn’t know what to make of you.” I met her eyes. “But now… now I think it’s because that’s what you represent to me.”
“A star?”
“Not just a star.Thestar. The one thing bright enough to make even Death look up.”
Her cheeks turned a soft pink, and I couldn’t tear my gaze away. The way the blush spread across her skin, the way she nervously tucked her hair behind her ear—it made something in me ache. She was still so unaware of how much of her she gave away, how much of herself she handed to me without even knowing.
As she leaned forward to reach for the bottle of wine, the chain around her neck slipped out from beneath her shirt. The small silver charm caught the dim light of the room. My breath caught in my throat.
“Grim?” she asked, noticing my gaze on her. She tugged the necklace back under her shirt hastily, but it wasn’t fast enough.
“You kept it,” I said, the words spilling out before I could stop them. I almost regretted it as soon as they left my lips, but there was no going back now. “I thought you’d thrown it away.”
She paused for a long moment, then finally met my eyes. The tension between us shifted. Her smile was small, bittersweet. “I made it through a few more birthdays. But…” Her voice wavered slightly. “It seems you’ll get your wish after all.”
I should’ve just stayed silent, should’ve let the conversation slip back into the quiet that surrounded us. But something about her vulnerability, the way she always tried to shield her heart from me, drove me to push further, to make her feel something.
I reached for her arm, my fingers brushing against her skin as I gently turned her to face me. Her hands trembled, the glass of wine wobbling dangerously, as though she was uncertain of what to do next. “You kept it,” I repeated, my voice more raw than I intended. The words hung in the air, and I couldn’t stop myself from severing the connection. “You want to get out of here?”
Her brow furrowed, eyes widening with surprise. I could see her hesitating, then that spark of mischief flared. “You’re not gonna faint on me, are you?” she joked, but it was a little too serious for a joke. She was still worried. I could feel it.
“No promises,” I shot back, grinning.
Her lips twitched like she was trying not to smile. And then, just like that, she stood up with a shrug that said,what the hell, why not?
Her lips were pursed, and not in the sexy way. More like the ‘I don’t know about this’kind of way. Was it cliché to take her to the top of the Eiffel Tower?
Probably.
The city was alive with lights, the hum of Parisian romance hanging in the air.
She looked as if she meant to say something, but one thing I’d learned about Astoria was that when she wasn’t in defense mode, she was too sweet, too gentle. She didn’t care to hurt others feelings, even mine.
“You can say it,” I laughed, cocking my head, a crooked smile tugging at my lips.
“Say what?” She gave a sheepish laugh, glancing away toward the shimmering lights.
“That this is ridiculous…”
“I mean… you said it. Not me.”
Running a hand over my jaw, I thought about what might actually impress this woman. She’d seen all of France before. The necklace she wore was gifted to her just a few kilometers away at the Musee D’Orsay. She’d seen Venice, walked the Great Wall. The one thing she’d done well over her century of life was travel—never sticking to one place long enough. Suddenly, it occurred to me.
“Come on,” I said, lacing my fingers through hers and pulling her to my side.
The world snapped. A flash of sensation, the tug of time and space rearranging itself around us, and then the Eiffel Tower disappeared as mist. When the world reformed, we stood on a worn cobblestone sidewalk in front of a weathered little ice cream shop that had somehow survived the centuries.
Astoria stumbled slightly, blinking up at the peeling pastel paint on the swinging sign that readMilly’s Sweet Creamery. The salty tang of the ocean hit us, the faint sound of waves rolling in over the rocky shore.
It took her a moment to collect herself, and I held out my handkerchief in case she vomited again.
