Page 95 of Misadventures with a Time Traveler

Of having him mine.

I let that elation flood the tearful smile I lift to him. Our bond intensifies as his brilliant gaze pulls mine in. Flips my psyche end-over-end. Steals my breath until I’m gasping for breath between the thankful chokes of my sobs.

But somehow, at least half-aware of the crowd gawking around us now, I find the fortitude to push words to my lips. “You’re not at the airport, Hotness.”

“Did you really think I would leave like that, Alessandra?”

Inexplicably, my jaw clenches. So does his.

Unavoidably, my lungs start pumping on rapid breaths.

So do his.

At alarming speed.

“Max?” I grab again at his hair. It’s thick and soft and full between my fingers—but something still isn’t right. He’s not solid anymore. Not sure. He’s battling to lift his arms, to hold me in return, but they’re limp as soaked silk, dangling at his sides. His breaths are shallow. His big body starts to sway.

“Max?”

He dips in, taking my lips in a soft kiss. Too soft. Fuck. What’s going on?

There’s pain. A lot of it…inside my heart. The air in my lungs feels like the ash now defining his skin tone.

“Max. Damn it. Wh-What’s happening to—”

“Désolée, mon miracle. I…I am so sorry.”

His voice doesn’t seem real anymore either. I stretch my mind out, fighting to keep its substance on the air, but he’s fading. The ghost I’ve refused to believe in…

For too damn long.

“I did not want you to see this,” he stammers. “For it…to end like this. But I was selfish. I knew I needed to see this…before I…”

“Max!” I sob harder. Desperately clutch at his shoulders. “No. Damn it, no! St-Stay with me. Stay with me! We’ll get you help—”

“Too late,” he interjects. “But that is…all right, my love. I just wanted to see you find your dream and know your happiness. I knew if I could see that, I would be able to face this.”

“Th-This? This what?” It’s broken up by my tears and frustration and confusion, as my mind struggles to grasp what I’m seeing.

No. What I’m not seeing.

Him.

I don’t see…him.

While I still cling to his head and shoulders, Maximillian De Leon has vanished from the knees down. As his gorgeous thighs turn into sparkling ash as well, he reaches toward me, seeking purchase.

He crumbles to the floor anyway.

“N-N-No!” I fall to my knees and throw myself on top of him. I wrap my arms around his waist, my tears soaking the ash-gray T-shirt he wears. Inch by inch, Max’s face turns the same color.

“Alessssss…andra…”

“No, no, no, no!” The words are agonizing in my throat, every syllable a newly burst fault line in my heart. They widen by the second, exposing the dark loneliness beneath.

The darkness he endured…for me.

For over two hundred years…for me.