Fables & Other Lies - Claire Contreras Page 0,75

was parted off to the side and his eyes were set on me as he blew out smoke from the cigarette in his hand. He flicked it away, taking one more step forward. I still couldn’t move, could barely breathe.

“It’s a bad habit. The smoking,” he said. “Some people are allergic to it.”

I nodded, the emotion in my throat too strong to let me speak. Finally, after the silence suspended for a moment too long, I swallowed and willed my heart to settle.

“How?” I whispered, not bothering to fight the tears that sprung in my eyes. “How?”

“How was I waiting for you?” He tilted his head, eyes scanning my face, amusement sparkling in his eyes. If I wasn’t so stunned, I’d be mad. “You are here to take pictures, right?”

It struck me then, as I stood there, that maybe he didn’t remember me. Maybe, maybe he’d survived the un-survivable because he’d taken the leaves and had forgotten me. Maybe, maybe he’d . . . I blinked and stopped trying to justify this to myself. Some things are inexplicable. Hadn’t he once said that? I swallowed and took a deep breath. He walked forward, his shoes tapping against the concrete as he closed the distance between us.

“You’re so much more beautiful than I remembered, little witch.” His eyes were still searching my face. I started crying then, really crying, burying my face in my hands to try to contain myself, and failing, because how do you contain such emotions?

“How?” I asked again, against my hands, wiping my tears in one swift, unattractive motion and meeting his gaze again.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“I’d believe anything you told me.”

“Really?” He quirked an eyebrow. “It’s a series of impossibilities.”

I stared at him for a long moment before bringing a hand up to touch his face, to make sure this was real. I pinched myself then, again and again, and pinched his arm too, which made him laugh. I didn’t find any of this funny.

“What are you?” I asked after a moment. “What are you, really?”

“Yours. If you’ll have me.”

I laughed through the tears, because of all of the things he could have said, that was the most perfect. “Anywhere? Any time?”

“Until the end of time.” He grabbed the nape of my neck, pulled me to him, and kissed me.

Chapter Thirty-Four

River and I were tangled in white sheets, looking out into the sunset that bathed Santorini. You could see all of the ships, the islands, the deep blue water. It was a dream. I felt as though it was a dream. The thought made me panic, but I shook it away. This was real, and if it was a dream, I didn’t want to wake up. I glanced up at River and found him watching me.

“You still haven’t explained to me how you’re here, alive and well.”

“You didn’t give me a chance.” He grinned, kissing my forehead. His expression turned serious when he pulled back and brought a hand to my back, his fingers gliding over the few scars and welts that had already developed. “Tell me about this.”

“Not yet.” I swallowed, shaking my head.

“Mine are gone.” He searched my eyes. “What the hell did you do, Penelope?”

“What did you do?” I sat up, bringing the sheet up with me in hopes to cover myself, but knowing it was futile.

“I wished for you to live.”

“I wished the same for you.” I glanced away, at the blue water.

“That’s bullshit.” He sat up as well, reaching for me and pinching my chin so I’d look at him. “What did you do?”

“Tell me what happened to you and where you’ve been this past year and I’ll tell you what I did.”

“The Manor collapsed. We were hit hard by a wave. My father died.” River paused, swallowing before continuing. “One minute I was sitting underneath the tree with him and the next I was sitting on the Devil’s Chair, sitting on the chair, but floating at sea. I swam to shore. I went to Dolly’s, to my apartment—”

“That wasn’t a dream.”

“I don’t know. I can’t say what that was. All I know is that I couldn’t stay.” He shook his head. “My body was dragged away, dragged back to the chair, back across the iron gate. I was just out there, stranded, floating on top of a structure that shouldn’t have floated at all.”

He looked at me briefly. “I don’t think I’d ever cried before, if I had I can’t remember, but that night, as I