AllFreeNovel
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“That sounds about right.” I pinched her cheek. “I’m sure someone will keep me alive for a long time.”
She reached up and touched my hand. “You’re confident that this is our last life.”
I nodded.
“Why?”
“Many reasons.”
She pouted and I grinned. “Share.”
“Because we already died. Because you already remember and we are still here. Because I feel it. Because I want it. And most importantly…” I thought of them, of all the people who fought for us, defended us and tried to help us.
“Most importantly what?” Her eyes were so sincere that part of me wanted to tease her more, but I couldn’t.
“Most importantly, Esther, for the first time history, we live in a world that lets us love, no matter our class status, our families, our skin tone, or our backgrounds. We aren’t involved in a war. After almost two thousand years and one thousand lives, we are free to love each other. That’s what’s different.”
“My family threatened to get in between—”
“Diana gave birth to you, but she is not your mother. She isn’t family. Either way, she tried and she failed.”
She relaxed as if I’d taken a burden off of her shoulders by saying what she already knew.
“We’re going to live this life to the fullest because we aren’t getting another one.” She grinned as she came closer to me.
Holding her in my arms I nodded, but then I remembered what she was saying as I was waking up. “You were reading me love quotes?”
She chuckled. “Yeah, I couldn’t think of the right words to say to you and remembered writers have been saying the perfect thing for generations.”
“Didn’t you once tell me that you were writing this generation’s greatest novel?”
She glanced up glared at me. “Are you teasing me, Mr. Lord?”
“Just a little bit.” I nodded and before she could even frown or pout I said, “‘When you fall in love, it is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake and then it subsides. And when it subsides, you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots are to become so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the desire to mate every second of the day, it is not lying awake at night imagining that he is kissing every part of your body. No...don't blush. I am telling you some truths. For that is just being in love; which any of us can convince ourselves we are. Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away. Doesn't sound very exciting, does it? But it is!’—Louis de Bernières.”
She was quiet for minutes, which seemed like hours before she finally said, “‘Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.’—Emily Brontë.”
I laughed. I laughed so hard she shook with me. “Did you spend all that time thinking of a quote to quote back?”
She nodded and laughed too.
“And you chose Brontë.” I shook my head. “Such an English major.”
“You were an English major too!”
As we argued I thought, yes, I could do this for the rest of my long life. I would. We would.
“Are you listening to me?” she asked and I had to look down at her as she eyed me carefully.
“Yes…no…I zoned out there for a second.”
She made a face. “I’m thinking of writing a new book.”
“You haven’t even published your first one.”
“I’m working on it!” she said proudly nodding her head. “What do you think if I publish our story?”
“Our story?”
