That shut both of them up for all of three seconds before they started with an onslaught of insults. You bastard! I can’t believe you’re going! I hope they hire you as an extra and kill you off!
I chuckled and raised my middle finger up as I walked away from them. “They only kill Muggles.”
“That’s not even the right series,” they screamed.
“Keep betting against me. You’ll never win,” I shouted back.
“You’re an asshole. Send pictures.”
“I’ll think about it.”
Now we were here and I realized just how impressive the set actually was, I’d sent short of a thousand pictures. Nicole was just in awe of everything, the way I probably would have been if I’d actually watched it on television. I’d always avoided things when my clients worked on shows I enjoyed because I thought they’d take away from the fantasy of what I liked watching on screen, but this was the real deal. The set was Iceland, and Iceland was breathtaking. And I’d probably never set foot back here again, so I tried to enjoy every second of it and openly being with Nicole.
My phone buzzed in my pocket and I took it out. Nicole rolled her eyes.
“I thought you were off work. You check your phone every two seconds.”
“Some of us need to stay employed, baby,” I said, scrolling through my email. My heart stopped when I saw it was from Will and had a smiley face on the subject line. A fucking smiley face from Will could only mean one thing. I opened it up and noticed the attachment. Above it, the email said, Good to have you back, partner.
My heart leaped, soared, in a way that only rivaled what Nicole made me feel when she looked at me.
“Your hands are shaking. You need better gloves,” Nicole said beside me. I shook my head.
“No. I’m not cold,” I said, and meant it. As I opened the attachment on the email, all I felt was warmth. I let out a long, relieved, icy breath. “Thank. Fucking. God.”
“What?” she asked. I turned the phone so she could see, and smiled when she gasped. She stayed quiet for so long, that I had to look at her. I noticed she had tears in her eyes. Tears that would probably freeze before they fell onto her face. I pulled her head and crashed it onto my beating heart. “It’s over,” she whispered. “It’s really over.”
I wasn’t sure if she was sad, happy, relieved, and I didn’t know if I had it in me to ask. I faced things head-on, but if she told me she was sad about her divorce finally being completely over, I wasn’t sure how I’d feel. Probably broken-hearted. Probably crushed. I decided I need to man up and took a deep breath, rearing back slightly and tilting her face to look into her eyes.
“You okay?”
She nodded, blinking slowly. “I am.” Her smile was slow, but wide. “I think . . . I really am.” She let out a smoky breath. “I feel . . . free.”
I smiled, bringing my lips to hers in a soft, chaste kiss. “Sorry to break it to you, but you’re kind of stuck with me.”
She laughed. “I’m okay with that.”
“You better be, or I’ll go tell that guy with the black feather cape to lend me his weapon,” I said. Her eyes got huge and she completely froze for a beat.
“Is he behind us?”
I looked over her head. “Not right behind us, but yeah.”
“Oh my God. I think I’m going to faint.”
I laughed. “You haven’t even seen him. He’s not that big a deal.”
If possible, her eyes widened more. “Jon. Snow. Is. A. Huge. Deal.”
I groaned, remembering Mia and Estelle and everybody else I knew talking about him. “That’s the fucking famous Jon Snow?”
Nicole turned around and let out a little silent excited shriek. “Yes.”
I wrapped an arm around her and pulled her to me. We were on top of a little hill as we watched him walk with a heavyset guy. He was not a big deal. He looked short. I was sure his hair made Oliver jealous, though, so I snapped a picture of him and sent it, knowing I wouldn’t get a response until later on.
“Are you happy?” I asked, my mouth near her ear. She nodded.
“So happy,” she said, turning in my hold and wrapping her hands around my neck. “I really, really, really fucking love you, Victor Reuben. Despite your aversion to marriage.”
I grinned. She was so clueless. “I don’t have an aversion to marriage.”
“I heard you talking to your parents the other day.” She paused, her blue eyes searching my face. “I’m okay with that. I don’t need to get married again. Been there, done that, bought the shirt.”
“Fuck that shirt.”
“You say that about everything that has nothing to do with you,” she said, laughing. “I’m just saying, you have a really great life. I’m not here to disrupt your organized, meticulous lifestyle. I just want to be part of it.”