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Now was no different. I would never have that guaranteed perfection again. There would always be flaws in my appearance. I was going to start aging. How long until that set in? Staring at myself in the hotel bathroom's mirror, I searched out all the little things I thought could be improved upon and then tried to fix them. When I was finished, I was so frustrated that I didn't know if I'd come close to my previous perfection or not. The only thing I was fairly certain of was that it probably didn't matter. Seth's decision to forgive me wasn't going to have anything to do with how my bangs fell or if my makeup brought out the gold flecks in my green eyes.
I showed up ten minutes before Seth's event started, thought it was obvious people had been arriving for some time. A bit of nostalgia for Emerald City hit me as I gazed around and took in the efficient bookstore staff as they worked to accommodate the crowd. A podium had been set up in front of a large seating area, though no chairs were left empty. Staff shifted what furniture they could to improve the view for those of us who were standing, and I had to stop myself from offering to help. I ended up purposely staying near the back of the standing crowd. I could still see the podium and hoped my spot would keep me semiobscured. All around me, excited readers clutched copies of Seth's books, some even carrying huge stacks.
Their excitement was electric, and I found myself getting caught up in it when Seth finally emerged to thunderous applause. My heart leaped. How long had it been since we'd last spoken? A week? It felt like an eternity, maybe because I'd pretty much lived one in the trial. He was wearing a Brady Bunch T-shirt, and though it looked like he'd brushed his hair, I could already see parts of it starting to go unruly in that way it had. He didn't appear to have shaved in a couple days, but the scruff looked adorable and added to his carefree writer appearance. I felt a smile spreading on my face as I watched him and was reminded of the first time we'd met, when he'd come to Emerald City for a signing and I hadn't recognized him.
"Hey, everybody," he said into the microphone, once the applause had quieted. "Thanks for coming out tonight."
Thinking about that first meeting with him also made me realize how much he had changed in the last year and a half. He would never be entirely comfortable in front of a crowd like this - especially since they kept getting bigger - but he was certainly more at ease than that first meeting. He grinned at their enthusiasm and made eye contact where he could, something he'd had trouble with in the past. There was confidence even in the way he stood and spoke. It made me love him that much more, something I hadn't believed possible.
Sometimes he would open by reading aloud from the new book, but this time, he jumped straight into questions. Hands went up everywhere, and I found myself ducking against a shelf as he scanned the audience and called on people. I wasn't quite ready for discovery yet. I just wanted to watch him and drink him in.
I was amused that the very first question he was asked was, "Where do you get your ideas from?" That had been a joke between us, at that first meeting, because it was one of the most common questions he received. I'd commented, back then, that it must get tedious answering the same things, and Seth had told me no. He'd said that the question was always new for the person asking and that he treated it as such. It didn't matter how many times it came up. He took joy in their excitement for the books.
More questions came, both broad and specific, and Seth answered them all with friendliness and good humor that his fans loved. A lot of people especially wanted to know about the next book, the last book in his Cady and O'Neill series. My heart grew and grew the more I watched him, and I felt like I was getting away with something by being able to observe him without his knowledge. Our last few encounters hadn't exactly been friendly, and it was a balm to me to observe all the warmth and kindness that had made me fall in love with him.
It went by too quickly. I was so caught up in watching and listening to him that I was barely aware of the time flying by. It wasn't until I picked up on the subtle movements of the staff that it hit me that this portion of the event was about to wrap up. They would go into signing soon, and the crowd around me would become a massive line that would take hours to get through. Then what? I was suddenly at a loss. Why had I come here? To see Seth . . . and then? I wasn't sure what. I hadn't had much of a plan, short of the preparations needed to get here. Somehow, I had been thinking that would be enough, but of course it wouldn't be. If I wanted to do something, I had to do it now, before this turned into the machine of signing.
My hand went up, and inexplicably, Seth's eyes went instantly to me. I don't know how it happened. Like me, others had realized their chance to ask questions was running out, and eager hands were up everywhere, some waving eagerly in the hopes that they might draw his attention. How I - standing in the back and shorter than most of those around me - pulled it off was a mystery. Maybe it was like the time Erik had used Seth to rescue me from the Oneroi. Maybe after everything that had happened, we were still bound.
Seth's eyes widened when he realized it was me, but his hand was already pointing in my direction, giving me permission to speak. He faltered only a little. "Y-yes?"
I felt like the eyes of the world were on me. The eyes of the universe, even. So much rested on the next words out of my mouth.
"Are Cady and O'Neill ever going to get together?"
I don't know where it came from. When Seth and I had first met, this was the other common question he and I had discussed, and I had mocked it as well. Surprisingly, no one had asked it tonight, but judging from the intense way everyone turned to Seth, you could tell it was on a lot of people's minds.
Those amber brown eyes weighed me heavily, and then he answered my question with a question. "Do you think they should?"
"Well," I said, "they've been through an awful lot together. And if there's only one book left, it kind of seems like they're running out of time."
The ghost of a smile flickered over his lips. "I suppose you're right." He thought about it a heartbeat more. "I don't know if they will. I guess you'll just have to read the next installment."
That was met with disappointed groans, and the bookstore staff used that as an opening to segue into signing and hurry Seth off to a more comfortable table. He watched me a few moments more before he moved, the faint smile still on his face. He looked thoughtful.
Meanwhile, my heart was beating in double time. In a daze, I allowed myself to be herded with the others into line, not caring how far back I was. Some of the aches in my ribs and the rest of my body began to nag me, but I forced myself to stay strong and ignore them. It took an hour and a half for me to reach the front, but much like the questions, I barely noticed the passage of time. Only, now it wasn't because I was so enraptured by what I saw. This time, I was simply terrified. I wanted to see Seth . . . but was afraid to.
He finished signing for the person in front of me and gave me the same smile he'd had on for everyone else. I supposed he'd had time to prepare himself for me coming through the line and was able to effectively hide his shock at my presence.
"Hi," he said. I handed him my book without a word. "You've come a long ways."
"I'm a pretty big fan," I said.
He smiled and scrawled one of his stock phrases into the book: Thanks for reading! When he finished signing, he gave the book back to me, and I gave him an envelope in return.
"This is for you," I said. There was nothing that weird about my action. People often gave him gifts and letters. In fact, I could see a small pile of goods sitting on a chair beside him. He accepted them with good grace all the time, but then, they weren't usually from people who had the kind of history we did.
He held the envelope for a moment, and I suddenly worried he wasn't going to take it. Then, he set it down and said, "Thank you." It went next to him on the table, not on the chair.
Unsure what to do now, I murmured my own thanks and then hurried off to let everyone else have their chance with him. Mine was gone. I'd played my cards and wouldn't know for a while if anything would come of it. The envelope had had a number scrawled on one side, and inside was a key to my hotel room. It was a silly, cliched thing to do, but I knew how these types of events worked. If I'd openly asked Seth to meet me somewhere, I would have likely gotten the unwanted attention of the bookstore staff and their security. I knew because I'd hurried a fair number of zealous fans off after book signings myself.
