30. Time Shall Grant Your Longing
Time Shall Grant Your Longing
Luna woke to sunlight filtering through lace curtains and the steady sound of Shaw’s breathing, as he slept the sleep of the recently nearly dead.
She turned her head on the pillow. Slowly. Carefully. As if too much movement might break the spell.
He was sprawled on his stomach, one arm flung over her waist with a possessiveness that made her chest go tight.
The heat of him seeped into her through the sheets.
He shifted in his sleep, his arm tightening reflexively around her waist. He looked peaceful, utterly unguarded, but the bruising and faint burn marks were reminders of the violence he’d survived.
A medicinal scent still hung in the air, sharp and herbal, from the salves applied in the frantic hours before this impossible calm.
For most of the night, Luna had been half convinced she’d imagined the whole thing.
That this reprieve was just her grief-shattered mind assembling comfort out of wishful thinking.
So she stayed very still. Kept her breathing shallow.
Watched his back rise and fall. Counted the breaths. One. Two. Three. Proof.
A soft, unconscious sound left him, rough with sleep and pain both.
He was here. Warm. Snoring. Taking up approximately seventy percent of her childhood bed despite being only one person.
Mine, she thought, with a fierce satisfaction that would’ve embarrassed her if she’d said it out loud. He’s mine, and he’s staying.
His eyes opened slowly, like he was dragging himself up from somewhere far away.
The bed springs creaked faintly under his weight.
He rolled over, gazing up at the ceiling, at the lace curtains.
Then at Luna . . . and his whole face did something that made her want to cry and kiss him simultaneously.
“Hi,” he said.
“Hi yourself.”
“I’m not dead.”
“Nope.”
“And you’re here with me.”
“Yup.”
Shaw reached up—moving carefully, like his shoulders were still achy—and touched her face.
Just rested his palm against her cheek, thumb brushing her cheekbone, like he was confirming she was solid.
“I was afraid I’d wake up in that server room.
Or back in the Void. Or in 1926, right before the magicians grabbed me, and this whole thing was just . . .”
“A dream?”
“One hell of a dream.” His mouth curved slightly. “But yeah.”
Luna turned her head and kissed his palm. “Not a dream. Whether it’s 2026 or 1926, you’re stuck with me now.”
“Stuck. That’s one word for it.”
“What word would you use?”
“Lucky,” he said immediately. Then, softer: “Terrified.”
Her chest tightened. “Of what?”
“Messing this up.” His thumb was still moving against her cheek, like he couldn’t stop touching her.
“I got a penchant for messing things up, Luna. And you’re—” He stopped, struggling for words in a way that made her heart hurt.
“You know, I just realized? You’re the best thing that’s happened to me in at least a hundred years.
It’s funny, grifters like me use lines like that all the time.
But now it’s literally true. And I don’t want to—”
Luna kissed him.
Not gently. Not tentatively. She kissed him like she’d kissed him yesterday on the town green: fierce and claiming and absolutely done with the distance that had been between them.
Shaw made a sound against her mouth that was half surprise, half relief, and pulled her closer with his uninjured arm.
When they finally broke apart, she said, “You’re not going to mess this up, Mr. Shaw. Because I won’t let you.”
“I don’t deserve you . . .” He lifted an eyebrow. “Sweetheart.” Luna squinched up her face at the word, which made him laugh. “Oh, come on! After what we just did? All that and I still can’t call you sweetheart?”
She laughed. “I’ll consider it. Maybe it’s growing on me . . . maybe.”
He lay on his back, and she tucked in against his side, her head on his chest. His heart was beating strong and steady. She could feel him playing with her hair, winding the strands around his fingers absently.
“I was thinking,” Shaw said.
“Mmm . . . dangerous.”
“About what comes next.” He paused, clearly choosing his words carefully. “I don’t want the 1920s anymore.”
Luna lifted her head to look at him. “What?”
“When you first sprung me, all I wanted was to get back to my time. But I don’t want that anymore. I want this; I want you.” He gestured at the room and Oak Haven beyond the window. “Even if I don’t understand about half of what everybody says.”
“Shaw—”
“I know I don’t fit here. But I want to try. If you’ll have me.”
“If I’ll—” Luna made a sound that was half laugh, half sob. “You idiot. Of course I’ll have you. I thought I’d lost you yesterday. Do you really think I’m going to let you go now?”
His smile was slow and devastating. “Just checking.”
“Although,” Luna said, settling back against his chest, “we’re going to need to have a serious conversation about your career plans.”
“My what?”
“Your career. A livelihood that doesn’t involve conning people.”
“I’m not sure I know how to do anything else.”
“Well, you’re going to learn.” She poked him gently. “No more playing people for marks.”
“Even if they deserve it?”
“Especially if they deserve it.”
“Luna—”
“I’m serious, mister. You want to stay here? You want to build a life in the twenty-first century? Fine. But you’re going to do it honestly.”
His chest rose and fell with a deep breath. “And if I don’t know how?”
“We’ll figure it out together.” She wriggled around to face him. “One way or another, we’ll figure it out.”
He looked at her for a long moment. “Together.” Like he was testing the word. He pulled her over for another kiss . . . that was interrupted by a sharp knock on the door.
They both froze.
“Luna Melrose.” Mama was all business. “I know you’re awake. And I know you’re not alone.”
Luna closed her eyes. “Oh my gods.”
“Get yourselves decent and come downstairs. Zahir’s made brunch, everyone’s here, and we need to talk about what happened yesterday.”
“Yes, Mama,” Luna called back, trying to sound like a responsible adult and not like someone who’d just been thoroughly debauched in her childhood bedroom.
“Elias,” Kelly continued, “your suit was too burned to salvage, unfortunately. Scarlett conjured some fresh clothes for you. They’re here outside the door. Chop, chop.” Mama’s footsteps retreated down the hall.
“So it seems my sister has . . . um . . . conjured some clothes. Scarlett, the chaos goblin, intends to dress you.”
“Should I be worried?”
“Unquestionably.”
* * *
It must be said: Scarlett outdid herself.
Shaw descended the stairs to the Stargazer lobby wearing a velvet suit in a color that could only be described as electric plum.
The shirt underneath was aggressively ruffled, with enough fabric at the collar and cuffs to upholster a small sofa.
The pants were flared at the bottom in a way that hadn’t been fashionable since 1972. And the shoes? Platform heels.
When he caught Luna’s expression, he said flatly, “Not one word.”
“I wasn’t going to say anything.”
“Well, you’re thinking very loudly.”
“I’m thinking you look very groovy.”
“I don’t know what that means but I hate it.” Shaw tugged at the ruffles. “Why is there so much fabric? How do I use my hands?”
At the bottom of the stairs, Scarlett and Nate were waiting. Nate took one look at Shaw and immediately pressed both hands to his mouth, his shoulders shaking. Scarlett was actually wheezing with laughter. “Oh my gods,” she managed. “Oh my gods, it’s better than I imagined—”
“You’re such a jerk,” Luna said, but her eyes were smiling too.
“Yeah, baby!” Nate said in a terrible British accent. “Shagadelic, man.”
Shaw stopped on the stairs. “What?”
“Do I make you randy?” Nate continued, still in the accent. “Do I make you horny, baby?”
“Why is he talking like that?” Shaw looked between them with genuine bewilderment. “Is he having a stroke?”
“Oh, behave!” Nate said, and Scarlett leaned against the banister, giggling and sobbing at the same time.
“I’m going back upstairs,” Shaw announced.
“No!” Luna grabbed his arm. “No, you can’t. It’s fine. Really, it’s fine.”
“Elias, good morning!” Nate said, dropping the accent. “I’m sorry. We’re both sorry, it’s just—” He looked at Scarlett, who was still wheezing. “We spent hours on this.”
“Spent hours on what?”
“Choosing your outfit,” Scarlett gasped, wiping her eyes. “It’s a movie from the Nineties? About a guy from the Sixties? He gets frozen in time and—”
“Oh, I see, very funny,” Shaw said, not laughing. “Time-travel humor.” He turned to Luna with an expression of profound betrayal. “Your family is insane.”
“I know,” Luna said, and gave up trying not to laugh. “I know, I’m so sorry, but you have to admit—”
“I don’t have to admit anything. I hate everyone.”
“No, you don’t,” Scarlett scoffed. “You love my sister and you’re growing to love me. I am delightful.”
“You’re a menace.”
“Both can be true.” She pulled herself back to standing, still grinning. “Come on, let’s get you into the dining room before someone sees you out here and thinks we’re hosting a costume party.”
Nate opened his mouth—probably to do the accent again—and Luna quickly put her hand over it.
“Please,” she said. “I’m begging you. He’s been through enough.”
“But—”
“Enough.”
Nate’s eyes were dancing with mischief, but he nodded.
Luna pushed through the doorway. Every table in the dining room was full, Zahir weaving between them with platters of food and his signature cheerful energy.
The Bloody Mary bar along the back wall looked less like a drink station and more like a banquet deconstructed into garnishes—bacon, shrimp, pickled vegetables, even chicken wings on skewers.
“Well, well, well,” Delilah called out from her seat next to Jasper. She was loud enough that several conversations stopped. “Look who finally decided to join us. Looking very fresh this morning, kids! Very rested.”