30. Adelbert

Chapter thirty

Adelbert

A day later I'm back in my study at home after our whirlwind trip to Las Vegas, feeling more conflicted than ever.

I plop down onto the carpet with my back against the bookcase. Resting my forearms on my propped-up knees, I hang my head forward between my shoulders, recounting each interaction I've had with Florence since I've met her.

Watching Florence interact with her sister in Vegas—constantly hugging, touching, holding hands… smiling and laughing—made me feel even more inadequate for not being able to do any of that for her. She looked positively radiant.

Sadie had packed up all of Florence's belongings in Kentucky and what she did not return to Germany with, has been put in storage.

Now that she has a suitcase full of her own warmer clothes, she hardly has need for my sweaters. Knowing I won't be seeing her with the rolled-up sleeves sends a pang of discomfort through me. Soon, she won't have any need for me at all.

The entire trip, from the moment we boarded Everett's plane that he sent for us, at the store, their home, and on the way back, Florence did a terrific job at acting as if everything was fine between us. Not that Everett or Sadie bought the ruse, but they didn't call us out in front of each other. Everett did a good job of that on his own.

I took part in every conversation, keeping my replies polite but curt, as every waking thought centered on Florence.

I let out a deep sigh and look up just as the cat waltzes into the room and sits down directly in front of me, staring at me with the most judgmental eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, cat. I know. Judge all you want. I'm judging myself, too," I tell the lazy creature who has now basically become a resident in my home.

The cat tilts his head and his tail flicks behind him, his agitation clear.

I let my head thud back against the hard shelves as I replay the scene in the meadow and the pivotal moment when I pushed Florence away.

When that tear raced down her cheek, it stabbed at a part so deep in my chest, I thought it couldn't be touched.

In front of me, an oddly disturbing growl comes from the cat and I sit up straighter.

"What's wrong?"

The cat's ears flick forward and backward and his tail picks up speed as it lashes against the floor.

"I find your behavior alarming. I do not know what to do with you. Go find Florence," I say and wave at it, trying to shoo it out the door so I can wallow in peace.

The cat yowls again, stretching the sound to a frightening degree and stalks off to the window, pacing up and down in front of it while a beastly sound rumbles from him.

For the first time, I notice how dark the afternoon has gotten. The rain starts to batter against the window panes and lightning flashes in the distance.

How did I not notice this earlier?

With an icy hand squeezing around my heart, I turn back to the cat.

My pulse races and my eyes threaten to bulge out of their sockets as I shake my head, already refusing to acknowledge the truth.

"Where is she?" I scream at the cat who looks just as distressed as me, hair rising on the back of its neck as it keeps up its pacing.

"Sir Purrington, I swear—" I don't manage to finish my sentence as Sir Purrington darts out of my study and races down the hallway. I chase after him, searching the wards and finding the answer I fear.

I'm out the front door faster than I've ever moved, instantly soaked as I run for the edge of the clearing that Florence favors. The icy rain intensifies with every breath that saws in and out of my lungs and I will my limbs to move faster.

Another bolt of lightning splits the sky and illuminates the grounds, helping me spot her white dress through the sheets of rain pummeling down on me.

The wind whips against me and harsh drops lash me from all sides as I fight my way across the clearing toward Florence, rumbling thunder urging me hurry.

When I get close enough to her that my voice can carry above the downpour, I shout, "What are you thinking being out here?! It's a storm!" I'm furious and I don't care about sounding nice. She can get hurt.

Florence's clothing is plastered to her skin, her long hair clinging to her face and arms as she bends forward to cradle her embroidery to her, doing her best to keep it dry.

"My dress… is snagged… on something. I'm… trying… to untangle… it," she stutters with chattering teeth while tugging gently on the skirt.

"Fuck your dress!" I shout.

"But—"

Florence doesn't get to finish her sentence as I bend down and fist the fabric, ripping it free from the underbrush.

"Your life is more important than a fucking dress."

Lightning flashes again and thunder follows way too soon, mimicking my racing heart, intensifying everything I'm feeling, as Florence stares at me in shock. Before she can say anything else, I surge forward and kiss her.

I kiss Florence with everything I've got.

All my frustration.

All my passion.