June urges me to remove my coat, and I’m in a bit of a daze as I take it off. The woman gasps, her gaze locked on to my wrist. She says something to me, but I’ve already tuned her out. My skin is tingling, and my heart is going haywire inside my chest. My fingers twitch, and my limbs burn, urging me to move.
June thrusts our coats at the woman before grabbing my elbow and pulling me into the room. My bestie leads me over to a waiter walking around the room carrying a tray with flutes of champagne. She snatches two, handing one to me. “Do you see him yet?” she whispers in my ear while my gaze darts around the space.
“No, but I feel him.” Most other people would probably have me institutionalized for the weird shit that regularly pops out of my mouth, but June knows everything. She knows all the dreams and visions I’ve had these past few years, and I tell her everything my psychic relays. Leaving Dee behind was hard because I’d grown attached to her, but she recommended a colleague in Portland, and I’ve been attending an annual reading with Tessa since we moved here.
The room is large; much larger than it looks from the outside, and it’s divided into sections, separated by handcrafted partition walls with laser-cut panels depicting the same butterfly design on Vander’s logo—the one that matches the ink on my wrist. The place is packed, and I’m torn between scanning the crowd looking for Vander and staring at his paintings. I take a healthy sip of the amber-colored liquid, needing it for courage, as I stare at the picture of an Ouroboros. My heart is pounding so loudly I’m sure everyone must hear it. “He is so talented.”
“He is.” June gulps back her champagne as we wander around the room inspecting his artwork. My heart is a swollen mess as I realize what I’m looking at. “This whole exhibit is a shrine to you,” June whispers, looping her arm in mine.
“He was seeing them too,” I say, stopping in front of a picture of the Taj Mahal. The couple looking into the reflecting pools, fed from the Yamuna River, in front of the building, look nothing like us, but they are us. I’ve seen this vision in my dreams too. “Water is one of the most traditional emblems of rebirth,” I murmur as we continue walking around.
“It’s all very clever. No one would guess it’s so intimate. This is like a giant love letter to you.” She squeezes my arm. “You were worrying for nothing. He’s just been biding his time too.”
“I hope you’re right, but unless he’s been dreaming about Iris, he’s in for one hell of a shock, and that could change his feelings for me forever.”
“Nonsense.” She yanks me around the corner, and I notice a few people staring at me. “You two are written in the stars. It’s the last hurdle to overcome, but it will be the easiest one. When you explain, he will understand you had no choice and you did the best you could.”
Slowing my pace, I stop and watch the small crowd gathered at the end of the room, surrounding the tall, impressive broad-shouldered man standing in front of the largest canvas in the exhibition. I raise a trembling hand to my mouth as my entire being strains toward Vander. Even without his imposing presence, I would still know it’s him because the pull between us is too strong to ignore. Knowing we have spent more years apart than together, it urges me forward, and I’m putting one foot in front of the other and walking toward him before I have consciously chosen to move. June keeps pace beside me as I head in his direction. Vander’s shoulders tighten and his back stiffens, and I know he feels me approaching.
Nerves fire at me from all angles as I inch closer to my destiny. But at the same time, a serene sort of peace washes over me, and my anxiety fades into the background. The people surrounding Vander step aside as I approach, peering inquisitively at me. My heart is careening around my chest cavity, and blood is pumping ferociously through my veins when I stop beside Vander. Heat rolls off him in waves as we stand, side by side, staring at the magnificence of the Temple of Hephaestus. It’s an almost perfect replica of the most prominent vision I see in my dreams.
In the picture, Vander is chasing me in the garden surrounding the temple. My long, wavy hair is streaming behind me as I laugh, my face radiant with happiness, while the hot sun bathes us in glorious rays of bright light. All around me, Vander has painted hundreds of blue morpho butterflies. It’s the most intricate painting on display and the most colorful one too. It’s also the only one where he has depicted our images as we are now.
I clear my throat and attempt to ignore the fluttering in my belly. “The temple dedicated to Hephaestus, the ancient god of fire, and to Athena, goddess of pottery and crafts.” I recite from memory because I have learned everything about ancient Athens in the time since the visions first started coming to me. “It stands on top of the Agoraios Kolonos hill on the northwest side of the ancient Agora of Athens.” I lean into his side, feeling a cavalcade of shivers skittering over my skin. “I do believe you missed a shrub right beside that column, painter boy.” My voice trembles a little as I point at the painting, but I don’t touch it. “I like the imaginative use of a butterfly clip in my hair though I don’t believe I actually wore one in reality,” I add in a lower tone, conscious we have some nosy bystanders.
A strangled sound escapes Vander’s mouth as he slowly turns around, lowering his head and staring at me. Our gazes connect for the first time in eight years, and emotion seeps into the air. Tears glisten in my eyes as I drink him in.
He is even more gorgeous, if that’s possible. Vander was an adult the last time I saw him, but he was still clinging to the vestiges of youth. Now, he is all man, and his commanding presence has magnified a hundred-fold. He’s wearing sharp black dress pants and a brilliant-white clean-pressed shirt, rolled up to the elbows, demonstrating the strong arms that always made me feel safe and his exquisite ink. The top button of his shirt is undone, highlighting the new ink on his chest and around his neck. He has definitely had more work done, but my Google snooping over the years already confirmed that.
His emerald-green gaze dances over my skin as he checks me out too. His hair is shorter than he used to wear it, though still long on the top, with an artful skin fade on both sides. The eyebrow ring is still intact, but the nose ring has been replaced with a black diamond stud. His strong jawline and high cheekbones are the same, but the scruff on his face is heavier than he wore it back in high school. My eyes fixate on his mouth, and prickles of desire ghost over my skin as my body hums in a way it hasn’t for a long time.
Murmurs and hushed conversation filter around us, but I tune them out, keeping my gaze secured to Vander’s. “Kendall,” he whispers, reaching out for my hand. “You haven’t changed at all. You’re still every bit as beautiful as the last time I saw you.”
Our fingers thread together, and I swear I feel the fissures in my heart knit together. His touch sends warmth shooting up my arms and all over my body. “I have missed you so much, Vander.” Tears spill out of my eyes and trek down my cheeks. “It has been far too long.”
Without hesitation, he reels me into his arms, placing his hands on my lower back while hugging me close. His lips move in my hair, and my heart is so full it feels like it might burst right out of my chest. “I have missed you too. Every day, I’ve been on a countdown until we were reunited.”