“How old are you, Jonas?”
“Twenty-five.”
The grandfather clock ticked out in the lobby. “How old are you really?”
She only caught a glimpse of the haunted quality that spun through his eyes before he transferred his attention to the ground. “I’ve been twenty-five since nineteen fifty-six.”
“Ohh,” she wheezed, wishing for a calculator.
He looked and up at her. Waiting for an official reaction?
Possibly even nervous about it?
“A lot of good movies came out that year,” she said finally, wetting her dry lips. “Do you want to go watch one?”
He seemed surprised by his own jerky nod.
“I shouldn’t be here,” Jonas muttered, taking Ginny’s hand and walking by her side back to her bedroom. “You won’t remember this.”
This time, his tone held far less conviction.
CHAPTER FIVE
“You really haven’t seen this movie?” Ginny counted on her fingers. “You would have been twenty-one when it came out.”
Jonas settled onto the opposite side of the couch from Ginny—and it still seemed too close for his comfort. “No, I don’t think I have.”
“Maybe it’s for the best if you haven’t.” She punched a series of buttons on her remote. “I’d be jealous if you’d gotten to see The Quiet Man in a theater.”
His eyes ticked to the black and white movie poster hanging on her wall. “Why do you have such a fascination with movies from before your time?”
Ginny shrugged. “I don’t know. My father found it odd, too. That I favored the Turner Classic Movies channel over Disney. But I eventually converted him. After that, we watched them together all the time.”
A beat passed. “What happened to him, Ginny?”
“Heart attack.” She said the words simply, but an invisible bolt twisted in her neck, like it always did. “He was working downstairs at night and I was sleeping, so I didn’t know. I always think, if it had just been a different time of day, he’d still be here. I’d have called the paramedic to save him. He’d be on a strict diet now, but totally cheating on it behind my back.” She shook her head. “Useless thoughts.”
“They’re impossible not to have.”
“Do you have them about anyone?”
In lieu of answering, he nodded at the television. “What’s the movie about?”
“Oh, it’s wonderful. It’s about a man who travels to Ireland to buy the cottage where his mother grew up. He falls in love with Maureen O’Hara—at first sight. She lives next door. I’m just going to fast forward to the part. I’m too excited.” Ginny pressed the proper button, trying not to bounce up and down on the couch cushions. It had been so long since she’d watched a movie with anyone, let alone a gorgeous man. “Here. This is where he sees her in the field…” She clutched a hand to her chest. “Look at his face. He knows he’s done for.”
When Jonas had nothing to say about the incredible scene, she looked over and found him watching her instead, lips parted slightly.
A shiver flew up her spine. The moment stretched, this timeless male on one side of her, the modern television on the other. “Does romance between two regular people seem pointless when they only live a short time and vampires have eternity?”
“No.” He gestured absently at the screen. “Regular is how it should be. The short time humans have is precious. It’s living for eternity that’s unnatural.”
“You didn’t choose to be a vampire?”
“I did, actually.” His fingers curled into his palms. “Everyone should be given a choice. Though choosing to become a vampire is always the wrong decision.”
His desolation made her wish to give him a hug, but suspected it wouldn’t be well received. “Surely there are some perks. When you have all the time in the world, you’re not under the human pressures. Get a job, get married, save for retirement, start a podcast…”
“You say those things like they’re terrible. Do you not want to…marry?”
“Sure. Someday.” Puzzling over his sudden frown, she sighed over the beautiful greenery on the television. “I’d rather travel, though. Have you been to Ireland?”
“Yes.”
Ginny gasped and melted against the arm of the couch. “Say the first five words that comes to mind when you think about it.”
“Damp. Friendly. Fireplaces. Beer. Wool.”
She laughed. “Where’s the best place you’ve been?”
“We’ve only been in Coney Island for a few weeks,” he said quietly, his regard sweeping her. “But it’s definitely a frontrunner.”
Because she was there? Surely not. Though his eyes suggested that’s exactly what he meant. Still…no. Couldn’t be. “Yes, the boardwalk is pretty great, even in the fall,” she said in a rush, narrowly resisting the urge to play with her hair. “Are you planning on staying long?”
“I don’t know,” Jonas murmured, a line forming between his brows.
Wait. Had he come closer?
Ginny looked down to find it was her that had scooted halfway across the couch. Flushing to her hairline, she reversed until her back met the arm of the sofa.
Jonas chuckled.
Desperate to pull the focus off her behavior, Ginny resumed watching the movie, though it was impossible not to feel Jonas’s attention locked on her. “My favorite line is coming up.”
“Don’t tell me. I want to guess.”
A smile stretched her mouth. “Okay.”
They watched in silence for a minute and just like always, Ginny got lost in the romance of the scene. The rain that lashed the windows of the small cottage, the music that swelled as the hero searched his house for the intruder. How he pulled his future wife up against his chest. “It’s a bold one you are,” Ginny whispered, in time with Maureen O’Hara. “‘Who gave you leave to be kissing me?’”
Several lines followed in the characters’ argument.
Then, “‘You’ll get over it.’” She dropped her voice several octaves. “‘Well, some things a man doesn’t get over so easy.’”
“That’s the one,” Jonas said.
Her mouth fell open. “How did you know?”
“I have my ways.” He raised a brow. “Why is that line your favorite?”
Ginny took a moment to think. “It’s nice, isn’t it? People acknowledging someone affects them, right to their face, instead of leaving them to guess.” Cursing her ability to make any situation weird, she wet her lips and went back to quoting the movie. “‘Like what, supposin’?’”
“‘Like a girl coming through the fields with the sun on her hair…kneeling in church with a face like a saint…’”
Ginny sputtered a laugh. “You have seen this movie!”
He winked at her. “Opening weekend.”
Thinking of him in an old-fashioned theater with red velvet curtains, she made a wistful sound. “Why did you pretend you hadn’t?”
“So I could listen to you talk about it.”
A fluttering weight dropped into her belly—and once again, she was halfway across the couch before realizing she’d moved. Drawn to him in a way that couldn’t be denied or explained. Slowly, like a middle schooler might do, she slid her open palm over the couch cushion toward Jonas, afraid to breathe, afraid he’d think it was a bad idea.
When he slowly lowered his hand to Ginny’s and knit their fingers together, cool twined with warm, electricity raced up her arm and Jonas’s nostrils flared. But he didn’t take his hand away—and they stayed that way until sleep snuck in like a bandit and claimed her.
Ginny woke with a start the following afternoon to find Roksana doing a walking handstand from one end of her room to the other. The previous night came back to her on a roaring current and she sprang into a sitting position, searching the room—futilely—for Jonas. Of course he wouldn’t still be there in the broad daylight, but the reminder of his sunlight allergy did nothing to stop a ditch from opening in her stomach and filling with disappointment.
The last thing she remembered before sleep claimed her around two o’clock in the morning was waking in a slump against Jonas’s hard yet welcoming shoulder. She recalled trying to sit up, clear the cobwebs of sleep from her brain and refocus on The Quiet Man unsuccessfully.
Some time later, she’d woken again while being carried in his arms from her sitting area to the bed. There were moments she recalled from childhood of being carried thusly, but this had been different. Her body had been lighter than air, kind of how she imagined it would be like to float in salt water in a sensory deprivation chamber. She’d kept her breathing even and pretended to be asleep, profoundly aware of Jonas’s lack of heartbeat beside her ear. Instead of laying her down in the bed right away, he’d paced for a while at the foot of her bed. Without him saying a word, Ginny could decipher his internal mutterings. They might as well have spoken out loud. I shouldn’t be here. She’ll remember none of this.
Finally, he’d lain her down in the bed—fully clothed. After rattling the knob to make sure her bedroom door was locked, he sat in the window staring out over Coney Island. As she drifted off to sleep, she sensed his gaze burning over her time and time again, until she’d lost the battle with not only exhaustion, but the safety she felt in Jonas’s presence. Surrendering herself to unconsciousness had never been easier with him watching over her.
“Hey!” Roksana hopped up on the foot of the bed and clapped her hands twice. “You are not a Victorian princess. Rise and shine.”
“I work nights,” Ginny complained. “Noon is early for me.”
She rubbed her stomach, which was decidedly bare between a studded bra and low rider jeans. “I was told this job included meals.”