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He hugged her closer, closed his eyes.
He woke up as soon as she moved.
He remained still, pretending to sleep, watched her through slit lids. She tiptoed around the lushly carpeted room, gathering her ruined clothes. As soon as her coat safely covered her and she’d finger-combed her wild curls into a semblance of order, she sat down at the desk.
For a long moment, she stared at the notepad. Finally she wrote what must have been only a couple of lines.
Then she rose. She stood there, looking at him across the distance for what felt like forever.
The temptation to go to her, drag her back to bed, tell her she was going nowhere, ever again, was brutal.
He maintained his sleep pretense. She finally turned an
d walked to the door. Her shoulders were slumped, her steps impeded.
She didn’t want to end it.
He was grateful that she did.
He wouldn’t have had the will to walk away.
Chapter Six
Thank you for the best two nights of my life.
I’ll never forget you.
Vidar read the note again. As if he’d find new words, more meanings. Something he’d missed the first thousand times he’d read it.
It had been a week since Kara had written it. He’d grabbed it the moment the door had closed behind her. He still couldn’t stop taking the note out every few minutes to reread it.
The words remained the same. The meaning, too.
She’d added the night of mortal danger to her life’s best. Because she’d found him then.
Yet she’d walked away. She hadn’t tried to find him again. He knew. He’d gone to the nightclub every night since.
He’d thought that if she did seek him out, he’d let them have another night. Or two. Or ten. He’d been telling himself that they might have enough of each other by then. That it wasn’t wise to let something so fierce go unassuaged or it would eat through them. As it was eating through him.
But as each day passed, his disappointment intensified.
How could she not wish for more of him, when he was in agony for more of her?
In disguise, he’d followed her from work to where she lived alone in a loft downtown, searching for evidence that she hoped he was trailing her in her glances, her movements. He’d thought sometimes that she looked around, expectation in her eyes, then seemed let down when she thought none of those around was him.
Maybe he’d seen what he was longing to see.
The only thing that held him together was those words.
I’ll never forget you.
But they were no longer enough.
He had to find out if she’d meant them.
If she hadn’t, he’d just say hello and move on. He’d have certainty, closure. He was going insane not knowing for sure.
He folded the note along the line she’d made, stowed it with reverence beside his other vital possession, Loki’s Locket.
