Page 77 of Misadventures with a Time Traveler

“Ladies.” Discomfited grunt. “I am afraid…I still do not follow.”

“We know.” Raegan is the one to stride forward now. She leans and gathers up both my hands. “But we’re asking you to trust us, Max. You know we want the same thing you do.”

“Allie’s happiness.” Drue underlines it with a nod.

The sincerity in their voices resonates inside me—but settles like thick mud at the base of my throat. “Yes,” I finally rasp. “Her happiness.”

“Then you’ll trust us?” Drue moves over, yanking on one of my elbows. “You’ll come with us?”

I inhale deeply. While expelling it, meet both their gazes. “To the ends of God’s earth.”

Drue rocks her head back with a wry expression. “Which is what all this might just feel like, buddy.”

“Perfect!” Raegan’s little hop reminds me of the tiny bird that used to pop up from Bastien’s long-gone clock. “But we haven’t much time. Stuff whatever things you need into a duffel, and let’s get you hidden in the back of the van.”

Drue nods. “Dmitri texted right before we came in. Says the fake work visa and ID won’t be a problem.”

Raegan cuckoo-jumps again. “Sweet. This is epic to the tenth!” She jabs a finger into my chest. “You. Get packing. Now.”

I only have to pass three seconds in dazed discomfiture before Henri sweeps in. He’s bearing the exact bag Raegan has ordered me to prepare. I have no concept of how to communicate my gratitude as he tells her, “Already handled.”

But my dilemma is erased by my shock the moment Raegan thanks him with a firm handclasp. A full clasp, palm to palm, as if she is a man and they have concluded business. Henri laughs as if this is normal, causing me to shuffle backward by a step when he turns and approaches me again.

Ironically—or mayhap not—my gawk is cuckoo-bird wide as he reaches into his inner jacket pocket.

Then withdraws a shining object on a chain.

A round timepiece, with a cover made of filigreed silver and a set of initials carved into the back.

I know they are there before even seeing the back.

I know this as my chest tightens into a drum and my heartbeat hammers in my throat. I know this as a stinging pressure builds behind my eyes from the moment Henri pulls out my hand…and places the watch into my palm.

My vision blurs while I turn the piece over and run my fingertips over the engraving.

M. G. J. V. L.

For Maximillian George Jean Valence De Leon.

Now I have had the biggest shock of my night.

I take only a minute to reassemble my composure. It feels like a year. It feels like two hundred and thirty. Fitting, since that is exactly what this man has just given back to me.

I lift my head. The weight in my throat is onerous, the tears in my vision thick. But I swallow and fumble, scrambling for even a few words of gratitude. They will be paltry, but I must try.

They vanish as soon as I take in his whole face—and behold the glint of tears in his eyes, as well.

In that moment, we are of one mind. One agreement. One message that needs no words—save those he finally delivers to Raegan and Drue.

“Now he is fully ready.”

ALLIE

I’ve always been a completely chill flyer.

Until now.

Clarification. The flight itself has been great. With Hemline’s permission—and credit card number—Dmitri booked us on the finest luxury charter flight service out of Orly. The aircraft itself is so pristine, it has that new car smell. Dmitri, Rae, Drue, and I had champagne in hand before the wheels ever left the ground. The takeoff was flawless as the pilot guided the sleek white jet into the sunset-stained clouds like a knife through butter.