A Tale of Two Centuries

Chapter Thirty

Back on the streets of Hollywood, I close my eyes and savor the sounds of the future. The wail of the ambulance, the honks of disgruntled drivers, and the squeal of tires provide a beautiful melody of my new home. The very things that terrified me when I first arrived, standing in this spot crowded with painted creatures and ill-mannered people, are the very things that will be a part of my everyday life. And I can’t wait.

Confidently strolling to the curb, I tell Cat’s driver that I would rather find my own ride, and with reluctance, he agrees. But he does not drive away. Grateful for the caring way he watches me, I take a few steps, thrust my hand into the air, and let a whistle rip. Almost immediately, a yellow taxi pulls over.

Yes, I can do this.

Grinning wide and proud at the driver in the black car behind me, I slip into the backseat of the cab. The smell of food lingers inside, just as it did for my first ride, but this time it is almost pleasant. The cloth seat is comfortable and dry, the ground under my feet not sticky.

A very good omen.

I rattle off the address, and the driver eases into traffic. As the streetlights and sights I once found scary fly past, I think about my last moments with Reyna.

Once I completed my carefully worded letter to my family, she took it in her hands. She did not read it but merely folded it in half, then folded it again, forming a perfect, neat square.

Then, she thrust it into the flame of the white candle.

Of course, I screamed—I worked hard on that letter and it was my only chance to tell my family good-bye. But she merely grinned, assuring me this was how it worked. A magical form of delivery, she said, and I had no choice but to trust her. She is the expert, after all.

Once I calmed down (though to be honest, my tender heart may never fully heal, always having a hole where my family should be), Reyna led me to the entrance of the tent. She told me where to find an account that had been set up in my name for college, a modern-day version of a dowry I suppose, courtesy of the stars.

Then, staring deep into my eyes, she said, “Never forget your strength, Alessandra. Follow your heart, and you will always find your way.”

Hearing her reiterate my father’s words, although I never shared them with her aloud, was my cosmic sign that everything would be all right.

Of course after that, she shoved me out of the tent.

I laugh quietly at our gypsy girl. Reyna is impossible to figure out. She never seems to act the way I expect, and she loves speaking in incomprehensible riddles, but underneath all the veils and mystique, she is a kindred spirit. And I will dearly miss her.

The taxi slows to a stop, and the driver glances at me over his shoulder. “Here you go, miss.” He looks back at the bright red meter beside him and says, “That’ll be twenty-five fifty.”

I smile, knowing exactly what he means. Then I pat my lap and remember I am in my costume. With a sinking in my stomach, I open my purse and find my cell phone, a pack of gum, and a pair of dark sunglasses. But no wallet.

It is well and good that I understand modern currency now, but it still helps to carry it.

Sighing, I lean forward and ask, “Sir, do you mind waiting for a moment? I somehow forgot to put any money in my purse, but I know the person inside will be happy to help.”

The man chuckles under his breath. He yawns and rubs a hand over his eyes. “No problem, honey. This kind of thing happens all the time.”

I guess if nothing else, it is reassuring to know I’m not the only forgetful person in this century.

I thank him profusely for his understanding and hop out of the backseat. Jogging to the front door, my only thought is yelling from the rather high rooftop that I am here to stay. Before I even think about the time, my finger shoots out to depress the doorbell. And as the very loud dings chime inside, I stare at the intricate carvings in the glass, impatiently shifting my weight from foot to foot, peering inside for signs of life.

Finally, a dark figure appears on the other side. I know the moment he realizes who is at the door because Austin’s slow pace transforms into a run, and then his front door is open, and I am in his arms.

Soon I will go home and twirl around the room, dancing with Cat in celebration, and tomorrow we’ll invite Lucas over so he can stuff me full of pizza, but right now, this is exactly where I need to be.

Leaning away, I manage to say, “Guess you’re not getting rid of me,” just before his mouth descends upon mine, and any other words I would have said fade into oblivion.

Austin lifts me into his arms and buries his face in my neck, breathing roughly and squeezing me so tight it is as if he wants to meld us together. “I told you to believe, didn’t I?”

He sets me down and brushes the hair away from my face, gazing at me so reverently that my heart clenches. In this moment, I know that every heartbreak was worth it to get me here.

“Austin, I’ve always—”

A quick interrupting beep of a horn reminds me that we are not alone.

“Oh, yes,” I say. “That would be the taxi driver. It appears that in my fancy modern day purse, I forgot to pack anything remotely useful. Such as bucks.”

Austin looks at me strangely, obviously not getting my private joke from the first day I arrived. “You know, Princess, I don’t think we need my challenges anymore. I can already tell life with you is going to be adventure enough.” Then he smiles, a shiver-inducing grin that has me wanting to pull him right back into my arms, and says, “Be right back.”

As he runs down the driveway to pay the kind gentleman driver, I glance up at the stars and issue a silent thank-you. I look down to see the man wave his hand out his opened window, reverse down the drive, and be swallowed up by the moonlit night.

“Now, where were we?” Austin says when he returns, sliding his hands around my lower back and tugging me close.

He lowers his head for another kiss, and as much as I would enjoy giving him that very thing, I lay a palm against his chest.

“Before we get to that,” I say with a grin of my own, “there is something I need you to know.”

Austin runs his fingernails over my back, his gaze curious, but he doesn’t say anything.

I take a breath.

“I’ve always believed, Austin,” I tell him. “At first, I believed solely in the power of destiny and fate. Then, magic. But I’ve learned during these last few days that there is something even more powerful than those things.” Austin raises an eyebrow, and I grin. “Choice. True happiness is something we create ourselves with our own choices: whom we want to be with, whom we let into our worlds, and how we choose to spend what little time we are given in this world. And I, Alessandra D’Angeli Forlani, choose this life, this time.” I press my lips against the curve of his delicious mouth, then draw back just far enough to whisper, “And I choose you.”

Acknowledgments

I’ve always heard that second books are hard. Pressure mounts, a blank page looms, worries descend. Since A Tale of Two Centuries is technically my third book, I figured I’d be spared the drama. (*insert snort laugh here*) Yeah, I was wrong. So many people stepped up, providing encouragement, support, commiseration, and love. So many times over the past year I’ve shaken my head and then looked above, thanking God for all that He’s given me. What an amazing ride this has been!

My Super Sweet Sixteenth Century found an audience with enthusiastic, wonderful readers, and not letting them down was forever at the forefront of my mind. I’m a reader first, so I know how many fabulous books are out there, and I’m so grateful and honored you chose to read this one. I hope Less,