Dahlia has lived in our universe as an immortal for centuries. She has a soft spot for this universe - all the good and all the bad - and has made the best of an admittedly bad situation. Her universe? It...went through some things, but who cares, w...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Paris, 1998
"THANKS FOR DOING this," I said, watching Memphis lug the last of my boxes into my new bedroom and set it on the floor. He made a big show of straightening up and cricking his neck.
"Don't mention it," he said for what was probably the millionth time, "although it feels like you're transporting boulders."
I knew that my profuse gratitude was starting to annoy him, but I couldn't help it. Just looking at the sea of boxes around me was beginning to give me heart palpitations. Why the hell did I have so much stuff?
"No, really, Mem," I prodded, patting his arm. "I'm grateful. You must have had better things to do with your weekend." He was last of the "movers" to leave, but unlike them, he worked gratis.
"Dahlia." Memphis put his hands on my shoulders, his eyes boring mine. In the sliver of sunlight, his brown eyes were honey. "I would've carried all your things to New Zealand if you'd asked me."
I felt tears prickle my eyes as I looked up at him. "The opposite of the world?"
"Exactly."
I felt an explosion of warmth in my chest. Gods, Memphis didn't have to spell it out for me, though. I already knew that he would cut his own penis off if I so much as insinuated it. Sure, it would grow back, but it would hurt like a bitch – and he'd still do it. I used to think that it was just what friendships were all about – self-sacrifice and an intense love that transcended time and space. Maybe the love that Memphis and I shared was what Tituba had predicted for me all those centuries ago.
But then I'd caught the way Memphis looked at me sometimes when he thought I hadn't noticed.
I had known his family in our world, and I had known his sister, Tyla. We could've passed as twins, so I knew what Memphis saw when he looked at me. Who he saw. Being a placeholder for a dead person was...well, it was a lot.
I didn't mind, though. Memphis was the very definition of tall, dark and handsome, but he was my other half. After all, in the five months since I'd learned about my pregnancy, Memphis had been the rock I'd clung to. He'd been beside me while we looked at my multiple positive pregnancy tests, at the subsequent doctor's visit with the only living Neutrali doctor we knew, and now, he had joined me in staking a claim on the master bedroom in this charming apartment in the center of Paris.
"Can I fix you a drink?" I asked him, taking off my coat and reaching up to tie my braids up into a ponytail.
Memphis nodded as he gestured for me to leave the room first. "Well, I saw you've stocked up on Mountain Dew."
I laughed. "I'm trying to cut down on my alcohol intake."
"No. You're just not allowed to drink," Memphis commented from behind me as he followed me into the kitchen.
