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“There’s a cliff past the table,” he warns me, “so don’t go... running or something.”
“Running?” I ask, but I don’t really care what he means by that. I just want to see everything. I head toward the table, the car doorslamming behind me as I do. Are we alone here? I see no one around. This clearing has the thickest green grass, interspersed with clovers. It’s a verdant carpet underneath that races to the trees, the underbrush there low, the bushes small.
“Careful,” he calls, and I look over at him. There’s a grin on his face and I realize, as I’m distracted, I’ve gotten too close to the edge of the clearing. I see what he means. There’s a cliff, a low sign warning sight-seers to keep back, but below is the whole city, and the river beyond it, another country even beyond that.
The breeze lifts up to greet me, the scent of green and growing things filling me, and all the bad feelings and worries from the last while just...
Fade away.
All of it just evaporates, as I stare out across the world, and it’s so beautiful I think I might cry.
“Come, let’s eat,” Hadrion’s voice is in my ear, and his hand descends on my shoulder, turning me around. “It won’t disappear if you take your eyes off of it for a few moments.”
He’s spread out the picnic on the table, and it’s like no grassy meal I’ve ever seen. The small table groans under a plate of sandwiches, three kinds of olives, a platter of cheese and meat, spears of vegetables, and what I suspect is a bunch of radishes that have been cut to look like flowers.
It’s very pretty, and almost cute.
And then there are flowers, a spray of something I’ve never seen before, lain across my plate.
“Let me,” he murmurs, gazing down at me, and this feels so very, very different from anything we’ve ever done.
I want to ask him why, or what, but I don’t have the courage to. Asking feels like it might chase this moment away, and when he sits across from me, my blood surges through my body, demanding I shut the fuck up so I don’t pop this trembling bubble that’s enveloped us.
Just enjoy it. Don’t ask questions. When you look too hard at something, love something too much, it always slips away from you.
So I tear into the food, eat my feelings and hope I can swallow down the nerves that are making a home in my chest cavity.
I barely look at him as I eat, the explosion of flavor on my tongue not even registering. It takes me several moments before I realize he’s talking to me.
“Of course, it’s something I posit to any person I take under my charge, so I wouldn’t want you to feel uncomfortable about the offer,” he finishes, as I lift my head. I’ve missed something. Ah, fuck.
“I.... yes,” I answer hesitantly, and his brow furrows before he smiles. He’s got one hand wrapped around a glass, the other tapping light on the tablecloth.
“It wasn’t a yes or no question,” he comments, and I wrinkle my nose, scrunching my eyes shut. Caught.
“Do you mind...” I clear my throat, not wanting to look at him, but finally open one eye to peek at him. He’s grinning, and it takes him from elegantly handsome to almost boyish. I wonder what he looked like as a young god, running around the universe, the sun blessing him with too many freckles and hope in his eyes that wouldn’t dim.
“Every person that I have... come across--“
“Abducted?” I offer and reach for a black olive, popping it in my mouth.
“Rescue,” he corrects me, “has wanted something, some deep desire to see something happen. A wrong righted, a dream achieved. I can make that happen for you, as a thank you--“
“But I haven’t done anything yet,” I blurt out, pausing half-way on the sandwich triangle I’m about to stick in my mouth. “I haven’t figured out how to use the key, and you say I can’t go to the Underworld and use it that way, and since I’m the one who does payroll, you’re actually paying me to work at Underworld.”
More money than I’ve ever made in my life, at that.
“And you’re giving me free room and board, and clothing, and--“ I run out of things to say as he taps his fingers on the table-top.
“Are you quite done?” He asks me softly, but he’s smiling despite himself.
“Mmmm, okay, boss-man,” I say quietly, trying to deflect my feelings with silly nicknames because maybe it’ll convince one of us I’m not...
What?
Falling in love?
Me?
