“I want you writing me,” he demanded, and at his demand, I stared.
“But, you’ll be far and wide. Any missive will—”
“I don’t care if the news is three months old when I get it,” he interrupted me to say. “I want you writing me and I’ll write you too.”
Oh.
We’d correspond.
How delightful!
I pressed my hand against his chest. “You have my vow, I will share all the ridiculously boring things that are happening to me as I await the birth of my brother’s child, and you can share with me all you’ve seen, heard, tasted and experienced as you travel the depth of a continent in a parallel universe.”
This time his eyes flashed with humor.
“I got a feeling you’ll find ways to liven shit up,” he told me.
He would be right.
I would be learning how to use my magic, for one, something he knew as I’d told him.
But the truth was, I was me. I wasn’t, but I was.
And I wasn’t about to abide boring.
“We shall see,” I replied.
He got even closer to the point our bellies were brushing through our clothes.
I held my breath.
He held my hand tighter at his chest.
“You leave first and you leave soon, baby,” he said quietly, suddenly looking rather splendidly fierce. “I’m gonna walk you down there and I’m gonna give you a hug in front of everybody and I’m gonna act like I feel, which is that this part is gonna suck because I’m gonna miss you too.”
He was going to miss me.
Why did that make me feel so much better?
“I have never been…hugged, in public that is,” I shared.
Again, his eyes flashed with humor. “Glad I get to break that seal.”
I felt my brows draw together. “Break that seal?”
It was then I felt my face freeze as he studied my brow only briefly before he dropped his forehead to mine, and instead of answering my question, he muttered, “Yeah, I’m gonna miss you too.”
“Noc,” I whispered.
“You be good,” he ordered.
Being good would be boring.
But that was me now. I’d eschewed my wicked ways.
I had no choice but to “be good.”
Ulk.
Though I’d find ways to be good without being boring (I hoped).
“I will,” I promised.
“Write me,” he went on.
“I already promised that,” I reminded him.
He behaved like I didn’t even speak.
“And when the green mist clears, baby, we’re gonna have a fuckin’ blast.”
I wanted that. I was very much looking forward to going to his world, especially these last few days after I’d shared I’d made the decision that I would and he’d explained much more about his world and what would be awaiting Josette and I there.
I wanted it more now because it would mean Josette and my adventure would finally begin and Noc and my separation would be over.
“Yeah?” he prompted when I said nothing.
“Yes, Noc,” I replied dutifully.
He pressed his forehead into mine before he pulled away, looked down out my window and murmured, “It’s time.”
I drew in a sharp breath at the sharp pain those words caused but tried to hide it as I cast my gaze in the same direction to see he spoke true.
And unfortunately Josette was outside, cloaked and ready to go, peering up at the palace in the direction of my room.
If I didn’t move, she would be forced to run up to fetch me. A waste of time and energy.
Thus I put one hand to the window, pulled slightly away from Noc, waved to her with my other and pointed down, indicating in a way I hoped she read that I would be right down.
She waved back, hopped twice on her boots and then whirled, causing an outward waft of her new, lovely cranberry wool cloak that was lined with sunshiny-gold rabbit fur.
Her new clothes were perfection not only because they suited her, but because she made no bones about the fact she was enjoying having them.
Although, according to Noc, she wouldn’t be able to wear them in our new world when we got there.
This mattered not. I was screamingly rich. I’d buy her another wardrobe in just months’ time and I’d delight in it.
It was a shock but it couldn’t be denied, acts of generosity felt very, very good.
On this thought, Noc drew me away from the window, my hand in his still held to his chest, but my arm was now tucked to his side as he led me out of the room.
Apparently, what needed to be said had been said. We were both quiet as we walked down the hall toward the stairs.
I found my feet lagging, Noc’s doing the same, and the silence became uncomfortable as we made our way down the stairs.
And as we walked across the grand entry, I had to force myself to put one foot in front of the other rather than drag them or come to a stop entirely, and the silence had become heavy with melancholy.
“Gods, I’ve grown maudlin,” I declared, staring at the door and only faintly sensing a footman coming forward with my cloak and hat.
“Yeah, goodbyes suck,” Noc agreed.
He let me go so I could accept my cloak on my shoulders and he awarded me with a cheeky grin when I’d pulled my hat over my forehead.
“Dr. Zhivago,” he whispered.
“I beg your pardon?” I asked, yanking on my gloves.
“Straight up, would seem impossible, but you’re a fuckuva lot more gorgeous even than Julie Christie,” he continued whispering. “And you don’t know it, sweetheart, but that’s saying something.”
Through his words I’d grown solid. I had no idea to whom he was referring, but his tone and the look on his face made the depth of his compliment sparklingly clear.