Chapter 1 #6
GHOST: Very. I can’t keep crushing in cyberspace. You. Me. We meet. In person. The groom insists at his wedding.
VESPER: I don't know… this feels sudden even though we’ve been talking for ages.
GHOST: Think on it. Sleep on it. Dream of your ghost.
“Dude.” Drew scoffs that’s just cheese pure cheese. Sounds a bit desperate, Blackwell. No wonder why you don’t date.
I shake my head. Travers is a hot mess. A literal overload of testosterone with the manners of a bull in a China shop.
VESPER: You are so drunk. Very poetic tonight.
GHOST: Drunk… & Lonely.
VESPER: Don’t date much either?
GHOST: Occupational hazard.
The others are losing patience.
“What is she saying?” Jalen asks.
I glance over.
At some point he has stretched out along the bench and looks approximately thirty seconds from unconsciousness.
“She hasn't said yes.”
Drew groans.
“Tell her she's ruining my night.”
“No.”
Vale says, “Ask her what she needs.”
I don't need help with that.
GHOST: What would make you consider it?
The answer takes a while.
VESPER: Your friends stop calling me Miss London Bridge.
I laugh.
Actually laugh.
Drew points.
“What?”
I translate.
“Denied,” he says immediately.
I type:
GHOST: Apparently that condition has been rejected.
VESPER: I haven't even met them and they're exhausting.
GHOST: Imagine years.
VESPER: Poor Ghost.
GHOST: Finally, compassion.
Then:
VESPER: Fine.
My pulse changes.
GHOST: Fine what?
VESPER: I will consider the invitation when it exists.
Drew watches my face.
“She said yes?”
“No.”
“What did she say?”
“She'll consider it.”
He groans.
Vale nods approvingly.
“Smart woman.”
Haverhill smirks, “That's practically yes.”
“It is not.”
I return to the screen.
GHOST: That's not an answer.
VESPER: It's the only answer you get tonight.
My mouth curves.
Then I make the mistake.
Or maybe not.
GHOST: Are you going to ghost me again?
A pause.
VESPER: How exactly do you ghost a ghost?
Everything inside me stills.
Drew can't read the words, but he sees whatever crosses my expression.
“You are completely screwed.”
“Thank you.”
Vale lifts his glass.
“Hundred to one.”
I ignore him.
GHOST: Meet me and we'll find out.
The three dots appear.
Disappear.
Then return.
VESPER: Good night, Ghost.
Her status goes dark.
Drew immediately asks, “What does that mean?”
“It means she went offline.”
“No. What does good night mean?”
“It means good night.”
“Women never mean exactly what they say.”
Vale points his Scotch at him.
“That theory explains several things about your marriage.”
“My wife loves me.”
“Against all available evidence.”
Jalen finally gives up.
He collapses sideways across the bench and pulls the towel over his face.
Drew looks at him.
“Is he alive?”
“He's breathing,” Leo says.
“Good enough.”
I add a second authentication layer to NULL.
Then a third.
Drew watches.
“Rude.”
“You're lucky I don't erase your financial identity.”
His face changes.
“Can you?”
Vale groans, “Never ask Blackwell questions you don't want answered.”
Haverhill leans back.
“You think she'll come?”
I look at the dark channel.
The wedding is still weeks away.
California.
A private estate.
A security operation I haven't finished designing.
None of that belongs in NULL yet.
When the time comes, if she still wants it, I'll create a credential that reveals only what she needs to know.
Then I'll place the invitation here myself.
Assuming I'm sober enough by then to realize what a terrible idea this is.
“I don't know.”
Drew points his cigar toward me.
“Miss London Bridge is coming.”
“You sound confident.”
“She has five people to disappoint now.”
“Four. Jalen is unconscious.”
From beneath the towel comes a muffled voice.
“I support the invitation.”
We all look at him.
He doesn't move.
Drew grins.
Vale finishes his Scotch.
“If she doesn't show, odds change.”
“There are no odds.”
“There are absolutely odds,” Kane says.
Leo looks toward the distant coastline.
“What happens if she actually comes?”
Nobody answers.
For years, Vesper has existed in fragments.
Caramel hair.
A mouth I haven't kissed.
A teardrop on paper.
Italian words against a black screen.
A mind I can't predict.
I've imagined finding her.
I've imagined catching her.
I've imagined asking why she left me standing on London Bridge.
What I've never imagined is Vesper walking into a room where people know Xavier Blackwell instead of Ghost.
Two worlds touching.
Maybe that's why the thought is suddenly difficult to dismiss.
Drew destroys the moment, as usual.
“If she turns out to be Sergei, I'm leaving the wedding early.”
Jalen's muffled voice comes from beneath the towel.
“Who's Sergei?”
Vale starts laughing.
Haverhill reaches for another beer.
Leo begins explaining.
I lean back beneath the stars with my Scotch and watch the Mediterranean move around us.
Weeks from now, an invitation may appear inside NULL.
Maybe Vesper accepts.
Maybe Miss London Bridge disappears again.
Either way, the possibility exists now.
For the first time since that bridge, she knows Ghost wants to see her again.
And for the first time, I'm beginning to admit just how much I want her to show.