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“Yes, but that doesn't mean other Curses can't find their matches.”
I kissed him, soft and brief, then stepped back to find my shirt. “We should go to the Conclave.”
Tristan stood and reached for his own shirt. “Yes. We need to tell them what's happened and discuss what this could mean.”
“We also need to pick up our things.” I pulled my shirt over my head and smoothed it down. “We can do both at once, but we don't have to go today.”
“I want to tell them now.” There was an urgency in his voice. “This is important.”
I studied him for a moment and then nodded. “All right. Let's go.”
We finished dressing and headed out. On the way to Great Falls, we stopped for a drive-thru breakfast, and it felt surreal—two Curses getting breakfast sandwiches at McDonald's. Or rather one Curse in two bodies. There was still so much for me to learn about my new world. Tucked in the warm car, eating greasy food and sipping coffee while we drove past autumnal forests, I had an epiphany. Balancing Heartbreak meant we didn't have to make our lives about it. We could be paranormal but live relatively normal lives.
“Your house should be our home,” I said, breaking the silence. “I'm only renting my apartment. It doesn't make sense to keep it.”
Tristan glanced at me, his expression warm. “Our home.”
“I'll need to give notice. Pack up my things.” I watched the trees give way to suburban neighborhoods. “It won't take long. I don't have much.”
“Take whatever time you need.” He squeezed my hand. “I'll help you move. We can make one of the upstairs rooms your art studio. The light is good there.”
I smiled, imagining my easel set up in one of those sun-filled rooms, my paints and brushes organized on shelves. “I'd like that.”
“I'll take care of you,” Tristan said. “You won't have to worry about rent or expenses. You can paint, or—”
“I don't want to sit around and do nothing,” I interrupted gently.
He looked at me, surprised. “I didn't mean—”
“I know.” I laid my hand on his thigh. “But I want to be clear. I'm not going to become some kept woman who sits at home waiting for you. I'm a conservator. I'm good at what I do, and I love it.”
“I just wanted to remind you I sell high-end antiques and art to collectors. I could use your help.”
“Oh.” I grimaced. “I'm sorry. I can be rash and jump to conclusions. I'll work on that.”
He grinned. “We have forever to work on the little things. But what do think about working together in our business?”
“Our business. Wow, I never thought I'd own a business. How about we give it a trial period? If we work well together, great. If not, I'll stay at my job until it becomes obvious that I'm not aging. Then I assume I'll have to get a new identity.”
“I usually move and get a new name. I have homes all over the world that I cycle through.”
“Holy shit,” I whispered. “We can live all over the world. How exciting.”
“Now that we have each other, yes, it will be amazing.” Tristan chuckled. “Look at us—planning our future together.”
“It will take some time. I'll use the excuse the Conclave gave the museum—that I'm on loan—and take another week off so we can settle into our new life together.”
“Another week,” Tristan repeated, and the way he said it made it sound like a gift.
“To figure out what it means to be us and just be together without running from one crisis to the next.”
“I'm looking forward to waking up beside you every morning without wondering if it's the last time. To make you breakfast and plan our day. To show you my favorite bookshops and take you to concerts and simply exist with you. To simply exist as me.”
“You mean, things we should have been doing when we were dating?”
Tristan burst out laughing. “Yes, but now we can do them while feeling secure in our relationship.”
The Conclave estate appeared ahead, the iron gates closed and imposing. Tristan slowed the car and pulled out his phone.
