“Oh,” I said, “you should probably—”
Damnit launched herself from the heart of a hydrangea bush. The next moments were a blur of curses (“Damn it, Damnit!”) and the pecking of shins.
I quickly cried, “Up the stairs!”
Flustered, he scrambled up beside me. In his rush, his glasses fell out of his breast pocket. I quickly grabbed them before Damnit could and scurried up to the top of the stairs again.
The goose hissed at the bottom, thwarted once more.
Cyrus scowled down at the animal. “Sheknowsme! I don’t know why she does this.”
“Doesn’t matter,” I supplied.
As if in agreement, the goose honked again. A poor unsuspecting guest wandered into the Central Gardens from the Lily Walk, saw the goose, and turned right around again, but it was much too late. Damnit was off after him, too.
“At least she’s an equal opportunity hater,” I said.
The slightest hint of a laugh escaped him, and then as soon as he heard it he came back to himself. I returned his glasses to his breast pocket without even thinking. He glanced down at the too-familiar touch.
I quickly jumped away from him. “Sorry! Sorry.”
“It’s fine,” he mumbled, and tucked his glasses down a little farther into his pocket. A thoughtful look crossed his face. He said, “We can say you showed me the gardens and be done with this?”
This.As in me. As in the situation. I remembered him saying that if not for the garden, he wouldn’t have given me the time I deserved. It was glaringly obvious that he felt very little was worth it here.
I shifted on my feet awkwardly. “If you want. I don’t want to waste your time.”
“You did say it would be a waste,” he replied drolly.
I caught his gaze, searching it for any sign of my Rus. “Was I wrong, Rus?”
“Cyrus,” he corrected, smoothing down the front of his suit jacket, picking a piece of invisible lint off his sleeve. “We’re not that familiar.”
Embarrassment burned my cheeks. “Cyrus, sorry.”
His lips pressed into a thin line. Finally, he said, “And whether or not this night is going to be a waste of my time has yet to be decided, Miss Drear.”
“Sophie, please,” I said. “And the party’s starting soon. Juliette ordered a great fondue and Wykofski’s mad talented on the banjo, you won’t wanna miss it.” If he was in the Willow Grove, he would be surrounded by people and hopefully distracted from the gardens. I checked my watch. Golden hour wasn’t for another thirty minutes, so he was at least safe until then. “I can walk you there if you want.”
“I know where the Willow Grove is. I don’t need a babysitter,” he said.
“Darn, and here I was going to lead you off the cliffs,” I said. He gave me another one of those unreadable looks, and I added, “I’m joking. Mostly.”
He softened a bit at the edges. Maybe it was my imagination, but his voice sounded a little gentler as he said, “Your new contract is on Eula’s desk. Before you decide to stay, I would suggest you read it.” Then he stepped past me into the house, and that was it.
No goodbye. NoNice to meet you.
He was just gone.
I closed my eyes and counted to ten, just to let him get far enough away that I could go up to Eula’s bedroom. The counting also helped ground me. The ache was sharp at one, but by ten it had turned bittersweet. Because the memories were still mine.
They’d always be mine.
So I went upstairs to Eula’s bedroom, glad for the quiet. Rus was gone, and I glanced out the window to make sure hewasmaking his way toward the party in the Willow Grove. He must have decided to go out the front door to avoid Damnit altogether and walk around the side of the house and through the Lily Walk. I couldn’t blame him. But while he didn’t run into Damnit, hedidmeet Wykofski, and it looked like they were making introductions.
It also looked like Cyrus wanted to eject himself into the sun.
Eula’s bedroom was bright with late-afternoon light, and I checked on her pothos and snake plants and ivy before I headed over to her desk. My heart thundered in my throat.
