Griffon nods his head slowly, flips the visor back down, and guns the engine, pulling the bike away from the curb and into the stream of traffic.
Twenty-Seven
This time, Larry the security guard waves me through the lobby and toward the elevators. He must have buzzed Drew, because he’s waiting for me as the doors open.
“Hi,” I say, stepping into the apartment and trying to gauge his mood.
“Hi,” he says, hesitating just a second before he leans down and kisses me. He closes his eyes and shakes his head, holding one palm up against my cheek. “I want so much to be mad at you. But I don’t want to waste precious time on pointless emotions.”
“Good,” I say, reaching up to kiss him again, surprised at the relief I feel.
Drew steps back and takes both of my hands in his. “But no more holding things back, okay? Promise me you’ll tell me what’s going on. No more secrets?”
“Right,” I nod. “No more secrets from now on.”
“So, where do you want to eat?” he asks, keeping one of my hands in his and leading me into the living room.
“Doesn’t matter to me.”
Drew sits down on the big brown couch and pulls me down with him in a long kiss. We don’t say anything as we finally pull apart, each wrapped up in our own thoughts. I look at Drew’s hand in mine. His arms are tan with a sprinkling of blond hairs. I picture them gliding through water, the sun glinting down on the surface as the waves break into spray. “Did you ever surf?”
“Of course,” he says, laughing a little. “Still do when I go visit the folks. Why?”
I shrug. “There’s just so much I don’t know about you. Like, what did you do when you left home? Where did you go?”
“I went where all good Akhet go when they come of age. First I went to Alexandria to retrieve some things, then it was on to New York and then here.”
“So you were loose in the big city as a sixteen-year-old with a huge amount of money?”
“I told you, it wasn’t a huge amount then. Just enough to get me started.” He smiles, and I can tell he’s remembering things I’m probably not going to get to hear about. “I actually did eat a lot of my meals at Maria’s place in the beginning, out of necessity. But yeah, it was fun.”
“How did you get all of your money to Alexandria? I mean, most of the time you don’t know when you’re going to die. You can’t exactly stop time and say ‘hang on, I just have to go to Egypt real quick and stash some things.’ “ My mind flashes back to the hillside in England where fires were crackling over the screams of the condemned. There’s no way he would have had time to hide things before the soldiers took him away during that lifetime.
“If you have the means to get to Alexandria, you stash things there whenever you can, over your entire lifetime. Most recently, I kept most of my money in a safe-deposit box in New York. My ‘grandfather’ left it to me,” he says, putting air quotes around the word. “It’s so much easier now to pick up where you left off. Used to be, you had to basically start over each time.”
I play with his fingers, trying to remember what he looked like as Connor, but all I get is a fuzzy picture of blond hair and green eyes. His image is hiding in the corners of my mind, like a ghost. “How did we meet?” I finally ask.
Drew props himself up on one elbow against the back of the couch so he can look at me. “We met at the store. You know that.”
“No, not this time. The last time.”
He looks concerned and a little hurt. “You don’t remember?”
“No. I’ve had flashes of things from that lifetime, some from when I was little on a cliff overlooking the ocean, and others from . . . from the bad time at the Tower. But I have no idea how we met, or any of it.” At this point, I can’t put any of my lives together in a linear way. It’s like a bad music video where you see scenes that don’t make much sense out of context.
Drew leans over and kisses me lightly, obviously remembering the time before. “We met at court,” he says.
That thought nudges something in my mind. I remember the cool stones of a drafty castle surrounded by tall shade trees. “At some kind of palace?”
He smiles. “That’s right. Arundel in West Sussex.” He strokes my arm absentmindedly as he speaks. “Your mother was one of the many ladies-in-waiting to Mary Howard. Caused quite a scandal at the time, too—your mother’s stock was considered too common to be a lady-in-waiting, but Mary insisted. You were with her at the country house—just a kid really, only about fourteen at the time, but old enough to catch my eye.” He pauses, his eyes far away. “You were so beautiful then, too—pale skin scattered with freckles and the most amazing rust-colored hair. Anyone who saw you for the most fleeting second back then would never forget.”
I nudge him in the ribs. “So you have a thing for younger girls.”
“Only you,” he says, nudging me back. “Although I didn’t do anything about it until much later. I arranged to have you visit my sister as often as I could—luckily you two got along—just to have you near me. I courted you in baby steps—bringing you small trinkets when I traveled, telling you stories about the people in faraway places.”
“I can’t imagine it took a lot of convincing,” I said, remembering how free and romantic he always seemed.
He glances at me. “It took enough. It wasn’t easy to earn your trust. And then when I finally was able to make you mine, my family strongly disapproved.”
I get up and walk cautiously toward the window, looking out over the city, thinking about the memory of the garden shed and his father’s anger when he caught us together. “I do remember that part. Your father hated me.”
Drew sighs, walking up to put his arms around me, pulling me toward him. “My father didn’t even know you. They had a match already picked out for me—had done since I was a child—and a beautiful upstart wasn’t part of his political agenda. Someone in your position was suitable as a courtesan, yes, but not as a wife.”
I watch the cars as they stream across the Bay Bridge. For once, I’m not afraid of how high up we are. “What did we do?”
“Snuck around a lot at first,” he says. “It took a series of threats to convince my parents that I wasn’t going to back down.”
“Sounds familiar,” I say, wondering what Dad would do if he knew I was here.
He laughs. “It is funny how some patterns repeat themselves. Eventually, we got married in secret, and you made me the happiest man in England. I didn’t need my parents’ approval or a title.” He leans over and kisses my cheek. “All I needed was you.”
I think about the grand houses and the servants that surrounded us. “So we were poor?”
“No.” He laughs. “I said I didn’t need the title. They eventually gave it to me anyway. Parents have a way of forgiving their kids for a lot.”
Drew pushes my hair away from my neck and runs strong thumbs up and down either side of my spine. The sensation causes me to melt and eases the tension inside just a little bit.
I turn and wrap my arms around his waist, his blue eyes dark and intent on me. “I’m glad we get to try again.”
As if to test this theory, Drew leans in and kisses me deeply, pressing me against the window, his hands on my hips. My skin comes alive wherever he touches me, and I feel heat radiating as we come together. I close my eyes to see the shadowy memory of another time, the two of us in a cold stone room lit only by a flickering fire, with a rugged wooden bed surrounded by heavy linen curtains.
I slip underneath the silken coverlet, my cheeks flaming with heat, and I wonder if Connor notices in the dim light. There is nothing between us now but thin fabric and a layer of nervous excitement that feels palpable in the drafty room.
“You look beautiful,” Connor says, approaching the bed. “No bride in history has ever been as lovely as you were today.” He kicks his boots off onto the floor, and I sit motionless, watching him, the candles lending flickering shadows to his ruggedly handsome face.
>
Drew’s hand is trembling as he brushes the hair away from my face, and he inhales sharply. “Through all the years, through every century, I’ve never stopped loving you.” He buries his face in the curve of my neck, tracing the line of my shoulder with his lips. I reach up and tentatively touch his chest, a gesture that feels strangely familiar. For all that’s new between us, there’s a rhythm to his touch that my body recognizes, our hands tracing patterns that became familiar over weeks and years.
Instead of casting my eyes demurely to the ground as Connor disrobes, I watch with a growing intensity as each article of clothing falls to the floor and he finally stands before me totally unashamed. I pull my eyes away from his body and up to his face, and I can see that he’s fighting for control as he slips between the covers.
“We can’t have you with an unfair advantage,” he says, a hint of mirth in his voice. He reaches for the ribbons at the top of my nightdress, inhaling as it falls open around my shoulders. His breath is hot as he kisses my neck, and my body takes over, arching up to meet his in the cocoon of bedclothes that for the moment is all I know of this world.
I press my hands against his chest and Drew responds reluctantly, pushing himself away from me. His face is flushed and his eyes are shining, and I’m wondering if somehow I pulled him into my memory, or if he was just having one of his own. “We should stop,” I say, my breathing ragged.
“Mmm,” he says, his lips on my neck again. “We should. But I don’t want to.”
The stubble on his chin is ticklish as he runs it along my collarbone and I laugh out loud. “There’s no rush. I’m not going anywhere.”
Drew puts both hands on the window above me and looks down into my face. “I wish I could be sure of that.” He bends down and snatches another kiss. “But maybe a dinner break will do us both good. I want to take you out to the best restaurant in the city.”
I honestly haven’t felt like eating in days, but I know how things will go if we stay here. “Okay. I told my parents I wouldn’t be home until curfew.” I look down at my jeans. “But I’m not dressed for anyplace nice.”
Drew holds up one hand. “Hang on,” he says, rushing out of the room. In a few moments he comes back with the black dress he bought me and the platform sandals in the shoebox. He holds them out tentatively. “I never returned these.”
I look at the gorgeous dress and then back to the slightly dirty, crumpled clothes I’ve been wearing all day. I can tell from his face how badly he wants me to wear the things he picked out. I still feel weird about it, but I suppose it’s the least I can do. “They are nice.”
“You can change in the spare bedroom back there,” he says. “I promise I won’t peek.”
I grab the box and dress on the way to the bedroom, not saying a word. After I shut the door, I lay the dress on the bed and position the shoes under it. I can only imagine how much these must have cost. I run my hand over the heavy fabric, just as flashes of another memory race through my mind.
I touch the soft velvet bodice with one finger, almost afraid of such finery.
“For you, my lady,” Connor says, nodding at the exquisite gown and slippers that are spread across the bedclothes.
I cover my mouth with my hand, trying to stifle my smile. “Another gown?” I say. “It’s beautiful!”
“We’ve been invited to a midwinter ball at the palace,” he says. “And a lady shan’t be seen in the same gown twice in one season.” He pushes my braid aside and brushes his lips against my neck, and I realize how much pleasure it gives him to provide for me. I feel the heat from his body as he presses close to me. “Although nothing you can put on will ever surpass your natural beauty.”
I blink as the memory fades, the image making me giddy and uncomfortable at the same time. I carefully drop my own clothes to the ground and pull the stiff new dress over my head, reaching around to pull the zipper up as far as I can. I sit on the bed and slip my feet into the shoes, much higher than I’m used to, but when I stand up and look into Drew’s full-length mirror, it’s like there’s someone else looking back at me. Someone older and more sophisticated. I take a few tentative steps in the heels before pulling the door open and walking carefully down the hall. “What do you think?” I ask, striking a pose in the doorway.
“Amazing,” Drew whispers. “Beautiful.”
I turn sideways. “Can you help me get this zipper up all the way?”
“Of course,” he says, his fingers tracing my spine as he fastens the dress. I turn, and he runs one finger down the chain to the ankh that’s hanging just above the neckline. “Just a second,” he says, walking toward his bedroom and returning a moment later with a familiar black velvet box.
I lift the ruby earrings out of the box and slip them into my ears. “I never did say thank you,” I say, tilting my head toward him. “How do they look?”
“Beautiful,” he says again. Drew seems lost, and I wonder if he’s remembering as well. Looking into my eyes, he runs a finger over one of the earrings, then pulls my hair away from my face. “Have you ever thought about wearing your hair in a braid? It’s so long and thick . . . it would be gorgeous.”
I pull back and shake my hair out. “No,” I say, suddenly uncomfortable. “I like it down now.”
“Right,” Drew says, forcing a smile. He kisses me on the neck. “You’re gorgeous no matter what you do. Now that you look so good, I’m going to jump in the shower and get ready. Where should we go? Coi? Or that new seafood place on Polk?”
“Whatever you want,” I say as he disappears into the bedroom. I run my fingers down the smooth skirt, knowing that it’s more expensive than anything I’ve ever worn. A feeling of exhaustion settles in, leaving a heavy weight on my chest. I can’t blame that on the dress or the earrings, so I just figure it’s because of all that’s been going on with Rayne and Veronique’s death.
Drew’s tablet is sitting on the table, so I sit down on the couch and pull it into my lap. I wait until I hear water running from behind the partially open bedroom door before I bring up the search box and type in Griffon’s name. It only takes a second to find the lecture Janine was talking about—it’s on a site I’ve heard about that puts up important talks from famous people. My finger hovers over the link, and I can’t decide whether I want to click it or not. Eventually, I do. I was always going to.
The title above the square screen reads “Griffon Hall: Smart Energy to Save the Planet.” There’s a blurb about him over to the right—how the wunderkind physicist is out to save us from ourselves with an invention that will change the world. Once the little loading circle disappears, there’s Griffon standing on a brightly lit stage in front of hundreds of people. He’s wearing a dark purple button-down shirt, and as he moves I can see the smallest flash of the black cord that hangs around his neck. My heart skips a beat as he begins speaking, walking casually up and down the stage as if he were in his living room, gesturing and smiling, his dimples flashing as he makes a point and the audience laughs. I’m so busy watching this confident, almost adult version of Griffon speak that I have no idea what he’s saying. Before it’s over, I click on the red X in the corner and the screen shrinks down to nothing. A completely perfect metaphor for our relationship.
I’m still staring at the blank screen when Drew pokes his head into the living room. He’s holding up two shirts. One is the same deep purple color that Griffon was wearing. “Which is better?” he asks.
“The green one,” I answer without hesitation.
As we’re waiting for the elevator, I catch a glimpse of us in the hall mirror, and I have to admit that we look good together. The green shirt sets off the blue in Drew’s eyes, and the dress and heels make me look less awkwardly young beside him. Almost like we really do belong together.
“So, where are we going?” I ask, as we wait for the car to be brought around to the front of the building.
“Coi, I think,” Drew says. He slips the valet a folded bill as he opens the door to the Bugatt
i for me. I watch him as he walks around to the driver’s side, saying something that makes the valet laugh. He’s always so in control of every situation. “I have a quick stop to make first,” he says, easing into the seat next to me. “Is that okay?”
I settle into the soft, buttery leather. “Fine by me.” I’m determined to enjoy this night. No worrying about Veronique or the stolen formula. No thinking about Griffon. Or Giselle. Just me and Drew in his fancy sports car, cruising through San Francisco.
The sun is making long shadows as Drew pulls out onto the Embarcadero, still crowded with joggers and tourists even though it’s almost dinner time. “Have you been to the Ferry Building lately?” Drew asks. “There are some great restaurants in there now.”
“No,” I say, looking out the window as we pass it. I realize with a jolt that this is where we landed in my past lifetime, the dock where the ferry unloaded all of our belongings, including my broken cello. “Not this time.”
Drew glances at me, but doesn’t say anything. We drive in silence, and I watch the people on the sidewalk as we pass. I realize we’re headed toward the Marina. “Where are we going?”
“There’s something I might want to buy,” he says cryptically, one hand on the shift knob. “But I want your opinion first.”
I can’t imagine what he would need my opinion about. “Why?”
“Because it might involve you someday.” He smiles at me quickly. “You’ll see.”
I don’t have long to wonder as we pull into an empty parking space down by the Marina Green. Drew opens the door and helps me out, something I actually appreciate in this dress and these heels. I look around at the boats and the water. “Here?”
“Here,” he says, grabbing my hand and leading me along the sidewalk past a small stone building. We cross a narrow white bridge onto a dock that bobs the slightest bit with the current and see a man in a suit waving in front of the biggest boat in the marina. “There he is.”
Drew walks up to the man and pats him on the back. “Sandoval, this is Cole, the one I was telling you about.”
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