Kaye.
“Maybe I will try again someplace else. But I still have to say good-bye to my friend. I just don’t want to run into Pan again.”
“If he’s really Pan, then he’s on to his next pursuit. He won’t be following you anymore.” Saturnia crossed her ankles and enjoyed the view from the mountain peak.
Syrinx swatted at a butterfly. “It’s funny. He didn’t gloat like I thought he would. Instead, he looked pretty upset, like he wanted to continue his game.”
“Have you ever thought maybe Pan has changed? Maybe he does love you?” Saturnia sounded wistful, as if she lived vicariously through her sister.
Why anyone would want to be her right now, Syrinx had no idea. “Even if he had, how could I trust him? He’s Pan for God’s sake. He’s a trickster, and I don’t want to be a part of his games any longer.”
“Maybe the only game he wants to play is with you?”
“I highly doubt that.”
Saturnia shook her head. “My poor, judgmental sis. You have your faults, and I have mine. We are cursed with either side of the coin, you and I. The only hope is that we can teach each other to see what’s on the other side. Go back to the mortal world. Talk to your friend. If Pan seeks you out, maybe you should talk to him, too.”
Syrinx threw her hands up in the air. “What’s the point?”
Saturnia gave her a steady, knowing stare, one that cut deeply into her soul. “If it’s truly love, you don’t want to throw that away so easily. You may not find it again.”
Chapter Eighteen Greenland
Coming back to her shop brought a heavy wallop of nostalgia. Syrinx had built this place from the ground up, five years of work. It didn’t seem like very long to most gods who lived for eons, but for her, those were the best five years of her existence.
“You’re late.” Kaye stood behind the cash register, crossing her arms. Her black curls were up in a ponytail and dirt smeared her cheeks. She’d been working hard on something, and guilt hit Syrinx in the gut.
“I’m sorry, Kaye. So much has happened in the past few weeks.” She sighed. Better to just get it out. “I’m leaving. I want you to have the shop.”
“I knew you’d say that.” Kaye placed both hands on the countertop. “I’ve had a visit…from Pan.”
Here we go again. Syrinx rolled her eyes even as a slight ray of hope shone through. Maybe he does care. But could she forgive him? Never. “What did he say?”
“He wants to talk to you.” Kaye gave her a dead serious look. “He cares about you.”
Syrinx crossed her arms. “Then why did he lie to me?”
“He lied so you’d give him a chance.”
“A chance?” Syrinx laughed bitterly. “He got more than that.”
“And so did you, Sylvie—I’m sorry, I meant to say Syrinx. This is all taking some getting used to. What I mean is: you both fell in love.”
“Love? He never mentioned the word ‘love’ to me. Is pretending you’re someone else really love?”
“So what if he’s Pan?” Kaye threw her arms up. “He’s still damn hot, and I know he loves you, even if he can’t bring himself to declare it. That’s really all that matters.”
Syrinx plopped down on a garden bench they still hadn’t sold since Kaye picked it up last year. “I can’t trust him, Kaye.”
“So you’re going to run away?”
Syrinx picked at a flake of rusty metal on the armrest. “I’m going to start over.” It wasn’t running away, was it?
Kaye leaned against the countertop. “Where? In another state?”
“In another time.”
Kaye rolled her eyes. “Great. That means I’ll never see you again.”
“You’ll see me. I can drop by from time to time.”
“From time to time? You might as well live in Greenland like your parents.” Kaye pointed south, but Syrinx was pretty sure she meant to point to where Greenland really was.
“Kaye, my parents don’t live in Greenland.”
Kaye waved her away, trying to calm her emotions by pacing. “I know, I know. It was just a figure of speech.”
“So are you going to say good-bye or not?”
“No.” Kaye stopped pacing. “You don’t get it, do you? You’ve been the best friend I’ve ever had. We have something good going on here, something we’ve worked on together. It wouldn’t be the same here without you.”
Guilt poured into Syrinx’s heart. “Kaye, I feel the same way.”
Kaye picked at soil underneath her red fingertips. “So why not stay? No one around here knows who you are—just me and Parker Tho—Pan.”
“If I stay, he won’t leave me alone.”
Kaye came around the countertop and sat beside her on the bench. “You can’t throw out what we’ve got because of some guy—or god. Why don’t you at least go over there and talk to him? Maybe you’ll be surprised.”
Syrinx crossed her arms. “I won’t do it to make him feel any better about what he did or give him any resolution.”
Kaye placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Then do it for me.”
…
Syrinx tightened her grip on the steering wheel as she parked her VW Bug by the fountain at Pan’s estate. Why the hell am I here? Pan was a force of nature. He could change his ways no more than the sun refusing to shine, or the wind to blow. Cursing, she turned off the ignition and swung open her door.
I’m doing this for Kaye.
Maybe if she convinced Pan how much she despised him, he would leave her alone. Maybe he just wanted to gloat, then return to Mount Olympus. There was no way Pan actually loved her, not the way she thought Parker Thomas had. Whatever the case, she owed it to Kaye to settle this once and for all. Then they could work together at the flower shop and life would return to normal.
She got out of the car with rocks tied down to her heart. To her surprise, every shade-loving species she’d suggested he plant on their first date lay at her feet, thriving in the cool shadow of the fountain.
He really was listening.
She pushed that thought aside and walked to the steps. The red carpet that he’d spread for the party was still there, along with broken champagne glasses, glittery confetti, and deflated balloons. He had created this entire scene—the mansion, the party, the image of Parker Thomas—all for her.
Burying all the romantic notions that came with that thought, she knocked on the door. No one answered, and she wondered if he’d already given up and gone back. It was like him—so fickle and flighty, like the changing seasons or the wind. Disappointment flashed through her, and she held it in check. At least now she could return to her shop with Kaye. She was glad she’d checked it out. It was either that or build a shop in some past century, where they’d probably brand her as a witch.
The door creaked open, and she froze, not knowing what or who to expect. The man she knew as Parker Thomas stood before her, and she guarded her heart against running into his arms. Underneath that facade was the wild, lustful Pan. She’d seen it in his eyes for a moment that fateful night.
“Syrinx. You came.”
“Only because Kaye twisted my arm.”
He looked down at her arm, and a small, sad smile twisted his lips. “Looks fine to me.”
“Listen, let’s get this over with. I want you out of my life for good. I’d like to live here with Kaye without any more bothering from you. You came for what you wanted, and you got it. Now leave me alone.”
“Come in, please.” Pan gestured for her to enter.
Syrinx stood in indecision. Could she trust herself to leave him? Or would he seduce her all over again? Hardening her heart, she stepped inside.
The foyer was a mess. The dolphin fountain lay on its side, champagne still sputtering from one of their mouths. All of the roses wilted, smelling of sickly sweet decay. As she reached them, they brightened, reminding her of their dance, of what once was. Now her life, his life, and what their lives would have been were in shambles, fr
actured beyond repair.
She turned to Pan, and her voice shook. “What do you want?”
“I want you.” Pan circled the fountain, keeping his distance as if he was afraid she’d smack him in the face. “When I got here, to this world, I must admit I was intent on winning you for one night. When you rejected me, you left a dagger in my heart and hurt my pride. I wanted to reclaim my sense of confidence and uphold my reputation.”
He picked up a cracked champagne glass and threw it into the corner. The glass shattered, making Syrinx jump. “But I care for none of that now. Rutherford encouraged me to get to know you, and as I got to know him and the kind of relationship he had with his wife, I started to want that for myself. I did as he told me to, and the more I got to know you, the more I was convinced we were perfect for each other. When I saw your shop, I knew how much you loved nature, and that gave me hope, because I was born of nature. How could you despise something you loved so much?”
Syrinx shrugged. He was right. What she loved about him hadn’t changed. Syrinx listened carefully, but she wouldn’t let herself feel anything. Not yet. She nodded. “Go on.”
“You calmed me when I needed you most, and you played my silly little games.” Pan pulled a rose from the wall and touched its petals lovingly. “I knew if I wanted to keep you, if I wanted you to love me back, I had to tell you the truth. At the party, I was finally ready. I tried, but we were interrupted.”
Syrinx thought back to the balcony, and then again to his bed when he asked her to talk. “You really were going to tell me the truth before we…”
Pan nodded. “That was more important to me than my conquest of you. But things got out of hand, and I couldn’t control myself. I wanted you so badly.”
Syrinx allowed a sliver of compassion to pass through her heart. “I wanted you, too.”
Passion flashed in his eyes, and he held it back, dropping his gaze to the floor. “I want you to play one more game with me. Just one more. If you don’t want to see me after that, I’ll leave.”
Syrinx was tired of his games, and all this talk was muddling her head, making her think of impossible things, like continuing her relationship with the man she knew as Pan. But he sounded sincere and even contrite. Maybe he would leave her alone. “I have your word?”
Pan nodded. “For what it’s worth, you do.”
“What game is it?”
“It’s the same game we played at dinner and in the car—the word association game.”
She couldn’t imagine where this was going, but at least it didn’t involve any touching. She wasn’t sure she could trust her own body. “All right. You start.”
Pan breathed deeply, as if collecting his thoughts. He looked at her with deep longing. “Rose.”
She challenged him with lasers in her eyes. “Thorn.”
He nodded as if he expected her venom. Then he took a deep breath as if he had trouble saying the next word. “Love.”
Love? He was cheating and lying again. How was love associated with thorn? Then, Master’s Don’s words came back to her:
To de-thorn the rose
Is to mute life. Through pain one
Appreciates love.
She swallowed, knowing full well which word came to her next. It was from Master Don’s other haiku, the one about jumping into the sea of blue. “Marriage.”
“I was hoping you’d come to that.” Pan approached her and took out a small box. Syrinx had seen it before, but she couldn’t place where.
The funeral. Daniel Hayes was standing beside him, and he’d brought it out.
Pan opened the box, and two gold rings, one tiny, the other thick and strong, glinted at her.
Syrinx shook her head. He couldn’t mean to use those now. “Those are the wedding bands Rutherford gave you.”
Pan nodded and dropped to one knee. “I have one more word, and then you must end this game.” He took out the smaller one and offered it to her. “Ring.”
Electricity jolted through her heart as if restarting it. Pan, the god of fertility, the ultimate womanizer, was giving up his career and proposing.
She blinked and raised her eyebrows in question.
He simply nodded, and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.
It was her turn. She could call it either way. One word would banish him from her forever, and the other would bind them together for all eternity. Out of all the rampant emotions swirling through her, one surfaced above all others. Certainty.
For once in her life, she put aside her judgmental nature. Syrinx shook with joy. Hot tears welled in her eyes. She took his hand in her own, ring and all, and gave him her word. “Yes.”
Acknowledgments
I’d like to thank Liz at Entangled Publishing for continually believing in my writing and supporting me whether I’m writing about space worms, orchestras, or Greek gods. Next comes Theresa Cole, my lovely editor who gives me her advice and wisdom in a caring and supportive way. Dawn Dowdle comes next, my patient and kindhearted agent who supports every word I write. I’d also like to thank Brianne, my sister and my best friend for life, and my parents, Joanne and Andy, for believing in me. Cherie, you know who you are and you are awesome! Next comes Debussy, the great composer, for writing the most beautiful flute solo imaginable and inspiring me to write this story. My flute teacher and life mentor, Peggy Vagts, comes next. Lastly, my husband, Chris.
About the Author Aubrie Dionne is an author and flutist in New England. She started writing because her flute students urged her to write down the stories she made up in their lessons. Her Entangled books have received the highest ratings from Romance Times Magazine, as well as Night Owl Reviews and Two Lips Reviews. She has guest blogged on the USA Today Happy Ever After blog and the Dear Teen Me blog and signed books at the Boston Book Festival, Barnes & Noble, and the Romance Writers of America conference. When she’s not writing, Aubrie teaches flute and plays in orchestras.
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