My favorite part was that there were also fair games. So many of them. They’d also set up a Ferris wheel and what looked like maybe a tilt-a-whirl. And then there were the exhibits. Interesting sculptures all around, depicting people in wild positions. There were also many pop-up galleries featuring up-and-coming painters and photographers. What I loved was that the work was priced anywhere from five dollars to fifty thousand dollars. It was the true spirit of art.
Marcus held my hand easily. And even though I kept my eyes peeled, I could relax until ten o’clock, as that was the time of the meeting between Stannis and the arms broker. But for the next hour and a half, I could be free.
We people-watched as we walked and talked. At one point, as he watched a couple in front of us start making out, Marcus chuckled and said. “They have the right idea.”
The couple in front of us could barely keep their hands off each other. At one point the guy dragged his girlfriend into the darkness, and they started making out like a couple of teenagers.
But instead of Marcus following their lead, he just looped an arm around my shoulder and held me tight as we walked, sharing our cotton candy. “So, are you going to tell me about that guy?”
I frowned. “What guy?”
“Your ex. The one I met when I walked you to work. How long were you guys a thing?”
When in doubt, it is better to let your lie mirror the truth. “Only about four months. It was one of those things that was supposed to be temporary, but I didn’t know.”
“What does that mean?”
“Just that I was young and impressionable and didn’t know any better. Didn’t recognize all the signs of someone who was only using me for sex. One day he decided that he’d had enough and kicked me to the curb. I did not take it well.”
“Shit, Lyra. I’m sorry. He’s a dick.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh, I know.”
“And what, you haven’t been with anyone else since?”
How was I supposed to explain to him that when you worked for a secret government organization there wasn’t really a lot of time for dating? “Nothing serious. What about you?”
He hesitated and pulled off a piece of cotton candy before plopping it in his mouth and leading me over to the fountains. Then he took a seat and pulled me into his lap on top of him. “I was engaged once.”
I held myself perfectly still, waiting for the pain of the words to sink in. “Oh. For how long?”
“Three years. She died.”
Damn it. The jealousy had been burrowing under my skin and trying to take root. But how could you be jealous of a woman who was gone? One that he clearly missed. “I’m so sorry, Marcus. How did it happen?”
“It was an accident. But I kind of see that I’ve been holding myself back ever since. Living a partial existence. But then I met you, and everything seemed normal. Something about you makes me want to open up. Be different.”
I studied him. “You haven’t been in love with anyone else since she died?”
He shook his head slowly. “No. Apparently, it took someone running after a mugger and attacking him with her shoes to get my attention. I know it sounds ridiculous, but watching you that night, it was the first time I’d felt alive in a while.”
“Are you sure that’s not just the adrenaline talking?”
“I’m sure. The point is that you’re so different than what I thought I needed or wanted. But I like you. And you are 100% under my skin.”
I flushed with warmth. I wanted him. I was also terrified. What if I got this wrong? “I lied, Marcus.”
He gave me his fake shocked face, mouth hanging open and hand on his chest. “You don’t say. What about, pray tell?”
I narrowed my gaze at him. He was going to make me use the words and say it out loud.
Maybe it’s important that we hear them.
“I don’t want to be your friend. I want to be more than your friend, and it scares the shit out of me.”
That was probably the most honest thing I’d ever said to him, and as a result, I couldn’t look him in the eyes for fear of what I would see in those icy blue depths.
But then he put a finger under my chin and lifted so I would have to meet his gaze. “You don’t have to be scared. I’m not going to let anything hurt you.”
I knew where this was going, into those feelings that I didn’t want to examine too closely, so I cleared my throat and said, “Do you want to go on one of the rides?”
He grinned at me. “It depends on what you mean by ride.”
I couldn’t help it. All I could do was blink. And then I heard this low rumbling laugh that I realized was his. And as he laughed, dimples peeked out. Holy hell, he had dimples. Why had I never noticed before?
He said, “Oh my God, you should see your face.”
“Don’t tease me.”
“Sweetheart, I haven’t even started yet. Besides, what the hell do you think you’re doing to me with that outfit?”
“I am merely enticing.”
“If you say so. Come on. To the Ferris wheel?”
“Yes, please.”
To our left, revelers were climbing on a makeshift gondola designed to take them on a little canal around the party area. I tried not to think about the amount of water that was being wasted, but I remembered that the event planners insisted the water would be put to good use, post revelry.
As Marcus’s thumb stroked my hand, he asked, “After this, do you want to check out the main gallery? The artist… What’s her name?”
“Nicola Wessex. I don’t know a lot of her work, but
