same pain and need that had clawed at her for decades, and the same pain and need that had drawn her inexorably into the Lavineas fandom.
Please tell me people who look like us can be loved.
Please tell me people who look like us can be desired.
Please tell me people who look like us can have happy endings.
She bit her lip. Dropped her chin to her chest. Considered what to tell the girl. Dammit, she hadn’t intended to say any of this, but—
“Not to sound like a social media status update, but it’s complicated.” The audience chuckled, and she huffed out a small sound of amusement too. “Let me make one thing absolutely clear, though: If we do break up, it won’t be because our relationship was fake, or because he doesn’t like how I look. He wants me exactly as I am. Believe me”—she slanted the audience a smile dripping with smug confidence—“I know.”
Leila giggled at that, and April laughed with her and reached for a well-deserved sip of water. Only to see, when she turned away from the audience, someone standing at the far edge of the stage, blocked from the sight of session attendees by a curtain.
Not the con organizer. Not a volunteer.
Marcus.
His chest was heaving, as if he’d run through the hotel to reach her. He was clutching his cell, and April suddenly knew exactly whom Summer had been texting earlier and why.
He was staring at her, face pinched into a concerned frown. It was easy enough to read his lips, to interpret the sweep of his arm toward the unseen audience. I’m sorry.
When she smiled at him, his gaze turned soft. Still worried, but gentle and affectionate.
“Leila, you didn’t ask me this, but I want to make something else clear.” She spoke into her microphone, but she was looking at him. Always, always at him. “If Marcus and I break up, it won’t be because I want to, and it won’t be because I don’t love him.”
He’d gone very, very still, his face grave.
“I do love him. Of course I love him. How could I not love him?” It was an impossibility, really. An inevitability, from that first direct message on the Lavineas server. “He’s such a talented man. Incredibly knowledgeable and smart and so curious about everything.”
At his sides, his hands twitched and curled in on themselves, but he didn’t glance away. Not once.
“There’s so much more to him than what he’s shown the world, and all of it is even more impressive than the person you see on your television and movie screens.” A vast understatement. She hoped he understood that someday. “He isn’t perfect, just like I’m not perfect. He makes mistakes, because of course he makes mistakes. He isn’t an actual demigod.”
His lips were parted, his eyes bright with more than the overhead lights. Which was fair, because she was suddenly near tears herself.
“He’s just a man. A good, good man who deserves all the love and happiness he can handle.” She tipped her chin to him then, a quick gesture of affirmation before turning back to the audience. “Doesn’t hurt that he’s the prettiest man I’ve ever met, either.”
Then they were all laughing again, and the familiar sound of his amusement rumbled from the side of the stage. Which came as a relief, because she didn’t want him to think she was dismissing him as only a pretty face, undeniably pretty as that face might be.
“Okay, let’s focus on questions for Summer now.” She peered into the audience, searching for the appropriate con volunteer. “Who’s n—”
Suddenly, the microphone was plucked out of her hand.
“Excuse me. Sorry to interrupt. Just a quick note before we move on.” Marcus was looming over her chair, his hand resting on its high back, his thumb caressing her nape in a spot that always made her shiver. “That is, if Summer doesn’t mind.”
His colleague was sitting back in her chair, hands laced in her lap, a satisfied grin splitting her elfin face. “Take as long as you need, Marcus. I’m in no hurry.”
“Great.” He turned to the audience. “Leila, I have something I want to make clear as well. Just as an addendum to April’s answer.”
The young woman got to her feet again. “Uh, okay?”
“Ms. Whittier seemed uncertain on the matter, so let me clarify for you.” His voice was clear and sure, and warmth crinkled the corners of those famous blue-gray eyes. “We’re not breaking up. Not if I have anything to say about it.”