CHAPTER SEVEN
ALEXANDRA
My whole body goes cold and then hot at the same time. “How do you know that name?”
“I’ve met her.” He leans back, suddenly looking less like a man and more like the mythical lord he claims to be. “I performed their binding ceremony when she and Declan, the leprechaun, formalized their bond.”
Hearing Bee’s leprechaun’s name seals it. Bran absolutely knows of them.
“She exists,” I mumble, half to him and half to myself. “Somebody else remembers that she's real.”
I start laughing, my grin super wide even as tears pour down my face.
“Finally!” I lunge for his hand resting on the table and bring it up to my lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles.
“Oh thank you, Bran! You have no idea what the past year has been like. Nobody remembers Bee. It’s like she’s been erased from everyone’s mind but mine.
Everyone looks at me like I'm insane whenever I bring her up.”
Letting go of his hand, I grab a bunch more napkins and scrub at my face. “Except I’ve stopped bringing her up because nobody remembers so what’s the point.” I let out a long shuddering sigh. “But you do! I’m not crazy.”
“No, you are not crazy,” he says calmly. His matter-of-fact attitude cuts through my frantic joy and I narrow my eyes suspiciously. “If you know Bee why didn’t you tell me before now?”
Some emotion moves across his face too fast for me to catch it. Those broad shoulders stretch the leather as he rolls them, looking somewhat uncomfortable.
This is a first, I’ve never seen Bran look anything but confident, even at the bar which he clearly didn’t enjoy he still radiated that quiet confidence that he has.
“I am sorry. I did not make the connection that you and Bee were friends until you mentioned her running off with a leprechaun. A human and a leprechaun doesn’t happen often.”
That’s fair. And does it really matter? All that matters is he knows Bee.
“Is she okay? Is she happy? Tell me everything,” I beg.
“She is happy, genuinely so. I would not have bound their lives together if she did not want that.” He pauses, something flickering behind his eyes.
“They live in a different plane of existence from this one and from the one I dwell in.
I haven't spoken to her myself since the binding, but I know enough to tell you that she is thriving.”
Thriving. Bee is thriving, and she’s happy. After everything she’s been through she deserves that.
“Thank you,” I say, knowing that those two words can’t fully express my gratitude.
Bran frowns. “You don't need to thank me.”
Laughing, I wipe at my face. “I do, though. You have no idea how much this weighed on me, and now I can breathe again. I’m not crazy, and Bee is happy.” Glancing down at the napkin there are smears of mascara and foundation on it. “Ugh, I must look like a mess.”
“You look beautiful.”
I roll my eyes. “Liar.”
Grabbing my purse I hop out of my seat. Bran starts to stand but I wave him back down. “I’m going to go tidy up in the ladies’ room, I’ll be back.”
In the ladies’ room I gasp at my reflection in the mirror.
It’s worse than I thought, I look like a deranged raccoon.
But in the middle of cleaning under my eyes it hits me.
I’m not crazy, and neither is Bran. Bee existed, and she still does in another world with her leprechaun. I guess the multiverse theory is true.
Maybe I shouldn’t have crinkled my nose up at all those superhero movies? Oh well, what’s done is done.
A second revelation hits me even harder than the first. All along Bran has said he’s the Lord of the Woods and if he knows Bee and did their binding ceremony then that means he was telling the truth.
He really is the Lord of the Woods.
And if he was telling the truth about that, then it stands to reason that he was being truthful when he said I was the one for him.
My mouth opens and I gasp like a fish. “Well, damn.”
I repair my makeup as best as I can since I only carry extra lip gloss and mascara in my purse and then go out to face the Lord of the Woods.
“Okay,” I say, sitting back down and facing Bran. “You’re the Lord of the Woods.”
Bran’s smile is immediate and pleased. “I am.”
“And you think I’m the one for you?”
“You are.”
I love his certainty and wish I felt even an ounce of it. Yes, I find him insanely attractive, but that’s not enough to go out and go ring shopping.
“Let’s say I actually consider this.” I gesture between us, still not sure I’m actually doing this but doing it anyway.
“You and me. What does that even look like? Because I'm not moving into a cabin in the woods, Bran. I have a job and a life here that doesn’t involve becoming one with nature. I like my modern conveniences way too much.”
“We would not stay here.” He says it simply, like it’s already been decided. “We would return to my realm. You could choose whatever dwelling you wanted. It doesn't need to be a cabin.”
I scowl. “You're talking about me leaving everything. My job, my apartment, my entire life, for a guy I met a few days ago who fed me Bambi.”
His smile turns into a pleased smirk. “You're already considering it. Otherwise, you wouldn't be asking these questions.”
“Who wouldn’t be asking questions?” I argue. “We’re talking about a relationship, so we need to figure out if we’re compatible-”
Bran interrupts, “We are.”
“You can’t know that!”
“I can, because we are.”
There’s no sense arguing because he’s plain stubborn at times and this is one of them. “You said you allowed matchmakers to send you here. Don’t you have to go back? What timeframe are we looking at here?”
He waves that off, unbothered. “The elves are only in charge because I allowed them to be. I can stay however long I wish.”
Something flickers across his face when he says it, quick and gone, but I catch it.
I narrow my eyes. “What was that look?”
His lips pinch tight. “Nothing of concern.”
“Bran.”
He pauses, longer than I would like, before saying, “I will need to return periodically, or things will get... chaotic.”
The hair on the nape of my neck stands up. “Chaotic how?”
Stubbornly, he shakes his head. “It's best not to discuss things that will not happen.”
I can see I’m not going to get anything else out of him, so I circle around to the part that affects me. “Okay,” I manage, clearing my throat, trying to get back on solid footing. “Let's say we gave this a try. You, me, the whole thing. What if it still doesn't work?”
“Then it doesn't.” He says it without any fear at all, like the possibility of failure doesn't frighten him the way it frightens most people. “But it will.”
“You can't know that,” I protest.
“I can.”
I stare at him, this infuriatingly certain man who’s too good looking for his own good, and something in my chest that's been clenched tight for longer than just the past hour starts, slowly, to loosen.
“You're insane,” I whisper, my voice filled with wonder.
“Possibly.” He picks his sandwich back up and grins. “Does that change your answer?”
I don't have an answer yet. Not a real one. I mean, I’m lonely too, and I’m attracted to him, but am I ready to give up my whole life for Bran?
“I have to get back to work,” I say instead, standing and gathering the wrapper and napkins into a ball. “I have a meeting at one o'clock.”
He stands too. “Will I see you tonight?”
“Meet me after work in the parking lot.” I'm already striding toward the door and before I can fully think it through, I toss over my shoulder, “Let's go to my place for dinner. We can figure the rest of this out there.”