Hector felt her heavy gaze upon him, though he could not discern its essence. He stared back at her.
“You do not believe me.”
“It is difficult to do so, considering the circumstances,” she replied.
He recalled the way Nina had found them in the library, locked in an embrace, and he understood how it might seem somewhat improbable.
“There was a desperation in me last summer,” Hector muttered. “I think I was trying to avoid the end of my old dreams because I could feel their demise dancing in the air. But they have ended. I was afraid of losing myself, of changing, and here I am and it’s done.”
“I’m sorry.”
She meant it and her kindness as she spoke; it was beautiful and terrible because he realized how little he had appreciated it, how foolishly he had squandered his days staring across the table at Valérie. And Nina was there now, and despite it all, she had space enough for kindness. One more quality to admire—he had not lied when he told her that—he liked her intelligence, her humor, and her pluck.
“Thank you,” he said.
Nina nodded, looking down. She dipped her fingers in the water of the fountain and the cuff of her dress was getting soaked, but she did not seem to mind.
“I have a gift for you,” he said, reaching into his jacket.
He gave her the black box and she took off the lid, admiring the contents. The insect gleamed like gold.
“You said I shouldn’t send the rest of them, but I did buy twenty. I thought you might want this one. It’s like the one I saw you catch by that stream, and you were pleased with it.”
“A water diving beetle. You remembered that,” she said.
“Not at first. I told them to get me twenty beetles, but then there was one that looked like this and I recalled the one you caught. Do you want it? If you don’t—”
“Yes,” she said quickly.
She held the insect up to the light, and when she did, it seemed to change color depending on the angle, now growing brighter or duller. She placed it back in the box and secured the lid on.
“I did like the other beetles you sent,” she said.
He chuckled at this only because the way she spoke it made it seem like a shameful secret.
“What amuses you?” she asked.
“Nothing,” he replied.
Nina was peeved, blushing at his words even though once again he did not think he’d done or said anything that could cause any shame. He chuckled again, which, if he’d pause to consider it, was a feat since he tended to silences and a bit of starchiness.
“Thank you for the gift,” she said once the color had faded from her cheeks.
“You are welcome.”
“Twenty, you say?”
“One for each of your years.”
“Whom did you buy them from?” she asked, sounding genuinely curious.
“Ferrier and Ferrier.”
“You’ve been had. I wager you could have bought them at Theo’s for a fraction of the cost,” she replied cheekily.
“Next time I require twenty beetles, I’ll ask you to accompany me to the shop.”
Her eyes swept over him. Under the bright sun, her hair was so black, it seemed almost blue; it glinted, like a raven’s wing. She dipped her hand in the water again, tracing circles with her fingers.
