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I’ve wondered if I worked hard enough at my bruised and broken bits, if I could be shiny again, too. I’ve wondered if anyone might ever see me as something precious.
I didn’t tell her to change because I was worried she’d be cold. I told her to change because if I had to watch the tiny strap of her camisole drift over her shoulder one more time, I was going to put my fist through a wall.
A dream. It was a dream. For the first time in over a century, I had a dream. And I dreamed of Harriet.
Because I’ve always been able to make my own happiness when the people around me decide I’m not worth the trouble.
Because I’m so fucking tired of trying, only to come up short. All the time.
“Feels nice,” he slurs. I retrace my path along his jaw. “What does?” His arms tighten around me. “Holding you,” he says, and I can feel his mouth move against my skin. “’S been a while since I’ve had a hug,” he adds, quieter.
“You’re the first thing in a hundred years to make me feel anything at all, Harriet York, and I don’t think that’s an accident.”
“You used your magic,” I whisper, delighted. He nods, his nose brushing against mine. “I did.” “Why?” “Because I wanted an excuse.” I barely dare to breathe. “For what?” “For this,” he says. And then he ducks his head and kisses me.
“Ah. Yes. Well.” I clasp my hands together. “I always preferred The Muppet Christmas Carol version. There’s something oddly captivating about Miss Piggy.”
“I hope you’re thinking of me. You make me hope, Harriet. You make me want. I am haunted by you.” He slips his hand around my neck, his palm squeezing at my nape. “Do not mistake me for a good man. I am not here out of some misplaced sense of honor or duty. I demand your attention and I desire your affection.”
“Maybe I was always supposed to find you,” I rasp. Maybe, my heart adds, you were always supposed to be mine.
Of course I had to fall in love with a ghost. I’ve always loved the broken and forgotten things best.
I was sent to haunt Harriet, but she ended up haunting me.
“You’ve been waiting, Nolan.” Something uncharacteristically tender and soft transforms Isabella’s harsh features. “You’ve been waiting for Harriet. To exist in the same time as her. Your souls were together in the beginning, and so they shall be in the end.”
