Page 96 of Hawk & Sparrow

“There’s more.” She wasn’t looking at Max’s face, but she heard the smile in his voice. “Go on, look.”

Now Vesper’s hands were starting to shake. She flipped to the next page and found another clipping, this one dated March 13, 1891. She flipped to another page, then another. Now she understood why the book had been so heavy; every single article she’d ever written for the Globe was meticulously captured in it, in chronological order, no less.

“You don’t like it.” Max’s face fell. “I’m sorry, I—”

He didn’t understand; he thought there were tears in her eyes because she hated it. He had no idea.

“Max, this is…” She blinked rapidly several times. “This is among the kindest things anyone has ever done for me.”

Max’s expression softened. “I know how much you love the Globe, and your work,” he said. “It seemed to me that you should have a solid portfolio, a true record of your accomplishments and your talent. Here, go to the last one.”

Vesper flipped to the back and found the most recent clip was from her write-up about Mrs. Oelrich’s arrest; she blinked back tears. Even if he’d used sorcery, she knew putting something like this together would have taken hours, maybe days. Max hadn’t gone to a fancy shop in North Basalton and picked out something expensive; he’d gotten her something unique to her, something he’d known would truly matter.

“Do you like it?” Max was staring at her in earnest now, and if Vesper wasn’t mistaken, she thought he even looked a bit nervous.

“I…” Vesper looked from Max to the book of clippings, then back at him again. “I love it. Thank you.”

The change on Max’s face was slow. Vesper watched as his cheeks colored, as his eyes seemed to grow brighter. They were brown today, the golden brown of maple syrup. The smile spread across his face pulled at his mouth and crinkled the corners of his eyes.

“Vesper,” he said quietly. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you. I—”

She didn’t know what possessed her to do it, what drove her to put the book on a side table and close the gap between them. But in one moment, she was standing there staring up at him, and in the next her lips had met his. For a moment, Max’s body stiffened with surprise, but just as quickly he’d wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against him. They broke apart, but only for a moment. The second time they kissed, Max took her face in both hands and pressed his forehead to hers before he kissed her a second time, then a third. Vesper felt a sensation like hummingbirds fluttering in her rib cage, like she was being lifted by a thousand invisible strings. The only thing she cared about—the only thing she could think about—was Max. She wanted more of this, she wanted more of this feeling; she wanted a hundred more moments like this one.

She wanted … Max.

The realization stunned her, like a bolt of lightning running through her veins. She wanted Max. It made no sense on paper. They came from entirely different worlds, they shouldn’t have been able to relate to each other at all, and yet Max had always found a way to make Vesper feel like they were on the same side. He’d opened the door into his world, but he’d been just as interested in understanding hers. Other men in this city might have considered a female reporter uncouth, but Max had never been daunted or intimidated by her profession. He’d never minded her stubbornness, or her tenacity. She vaguely remembered the comment from that museum security guard. He’d called her odd, and she’d internalized it. She’d believed she was too strange, that she’d always have to choose between being herself, or being acceptable. But what if she’d had it wrong?

“I have one more thing for you,” said Maximilian. “Wait here.”

“All right.”

He took her hands in his and kissed them before heading out the door. Even when he was gone, her heart wouldn’t stop thundering in her chest. She closed and opened her eyes, waiting to wake up from whatever impossible dream this was. But this was no dream. She was still standing in Maximilian’s den, still waiting for him to come back. All her life, she’d felt pulled in two directions, torn between the desire to be herself, and the desire to be acceptable. For maybe the first time, Vesper saw a third direction, a direction that didn’t force her to choose because there was someone who already loved her exactly as she was. The option was there, just within reach. Vesper imagined what it would look like to grasp that possibility. She imagined telling Maximilian exactly how she felt about him when he returned, and she imagined the kind of love they might built together. She was so close to it, but …

It won’t work.

The voice in her head was hers, the part of her that years of training had taught to be skeptical, cynical. That inner voice’s tone was cool, dismissive.

You and Max won’t work because you can’t. Look at you and look at him. You come from completely different worlds. How could you possibly build a life together when you have nothing in common?

Vesper felt a familiar tightness in her chest, an old anxiety that never went away.

You know what will happen, that inner voice said. The same thing that’s happened every time you let your guard down. He’ll leave. He’ll hurt you, and you’ll be left worse for it.

Vesper tried to swallow, but a lump had formed in her throat. The constricting sensation in her chest was only worsening.

Air, I need air.

Her eyes searched the room, but its lone window appeared to be painted shut. The warmth Vesper had felt before was doused like a candle thrown into the sea as the panic and anxiety roiled inside her in a maelstrom. Vesper ran from the den, blinking back tears.

“Vesper?” In the distance she thought she heard Maximilian’s voice, but she no longer trusted herself to discern the difference between what was real and what was in her head. She didn’t turn in the direction of that voice, and instead picked up her pace as she hurried down the corridor.

In the main room, guests were still dancing, enjoying their winter wonderland. Her vision blurred as her eyes stung with tears. She didn’t know where to go, so she bolted out the door to the back garden until she reached a lake behind the house. It was small, freshly frozen. Only when Vesper sat on a bench at its edge did she let the tears finally fall.

“Vesper?”

Vesper turned. To her surprise, she found Ada walking quickly across the grass. She rubbed her arms, shivering as she joined Vesper.

“Ada.” Vesper’s voice was weaker than she’d have liked it to be. “What are you doing here?”