“You’re telling me I was forced to exist in another time without the woman I—” I swallow down the word, not willing to say it to anyone who isn’t Harriet first. My hands clench into fists and I try again. “I’ve lived lifetimes, waiting, without reason or warning. I’ve been miserable. And you call me lucky?” Isabella fixes me with an impenetrable look. “And now that you know, how many lifetimes more would you wait? For your Harriet?” My frustration leaves me in a rush. I’m suddenly exhausted. Tired to my very bones. “As many as it took,” I answer. “However long.”
