Page 173 of The Choice


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“If I saidgirl thingsto you, I believe I’d get another ferocious look. Are you ready then, Marco?”

“Yeah.” But he looked around the cottage. “Don’t forget the casserole. All you’ve got to do is warm it up. And I froze some red sauce if you want pasta. You just boil the water and—”

“Ah now, don’t fuss. We won’t starve.” Brian lifted Marco’s suitcase. “Not that I won’t miss your cooking, but it’s you I’ll miss more.”

Marco shouldered his own laptop case, then took the gift from Keegan.

When they stepped out, Breen looked over at the garden they’d planted, the rows and the mounds, the new green rising.

“I grew up on a farm. I think I can tend a little patch such as that for a handful of days.” With a shake of his head, Keegan carted the suitcase toward the woods.

She’d hung wind chimes, made in her grandmother’s workshop, on the branches. For beauty and song, and another layer of protection. They swayed, tinkling, in the light breeze, their jewel colors catching both sun and shadow.

And the pixies would come at night, she thought, so he’d have them as warning if he stayed at the cottage. He’d have Harken and Morena at the farm, and a score of warriors if he went to the Capital.

If she could only see whether Shana had recovered. If she could see whether they’d found a way, some way, to get her through.

I need you to look after him, she told Bollocks, and his drooping head lifted.I really do. Stay close when you can, okay? Do that for me.

His pace picked up; his tail swayed. He wasn’t being left behind but given a task. Protect.

“You’ll take pictures to show when you get back,” Brian was saying. “Of the party, and of the great city. And, Breen, you’ll write of it so we can read on Marco’s machine when you come home again.”

Home again, she thought as they approached the tree. She wasn’t going home, but taking a short trip. And in a few days, they’d come home again.

When they stepped through and into a thin April shower, she saw a welcoming—or a bon voyage—party. Nan, Sedric, Morena, Harken, Aisling, and her boys—with Mahon off on patrol.

The pup, already twice the size she’d been at Christmas, leaped joyfully at Bollocks.

“And here they are, the travelers.” Agile, Morena danced back from the wrestling dogs.

Kavan lifted his arms to Breen, so she set down her bag to pick him up.

“He’s ready to go off with you,” Aisling told her.

“Wouldn’t that be fun?” She gave him a nuzzle. “One day we’ll go.”With him on her hip, she hugged Marg. “We’ll be back, right here, in three days.”

“You enjoy your time, and wish Sally a happy birthday from all of us.”

“I will. We will.” She kissed Sedric’s cheek. “See you soon.”

She set Kavan down, started to pick up her bags. Keegan swept her into a kiss that had Finian laughing and Kavan hooting. “You’ll miss me, won’t you now?”

“Maybe. Yes.”

“Good. As I’ll miss you. So much baggage here.” He looked toward Sedric, who smiled.

“It’s no problem at all. Take hands now, as it’ll be easier.”

“We could still fly—I mean in a plane.” But Marco took her hand. “You’re sure we’ll end up back in the old apartment?”

“That’s where I opened it,” Keegan reminded him. “Meabh won’t be there, as she knows you’re coming. And you know the place of the portal in New York.”

“Yes.” Nerves began to spark along Breen’s skin. “It’s all written down.”

“All right then.” Keegan walked over to stand with Marg and Sedric. “I expect you can do it on your own,” he said to Sedric, “but I’ll give you a hand with it.”

“I’ll take it, and thanks.”

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