Page 71 of Time After Time

Latika spins and walks backward. “Are we going to talk about the snake in lip gloss or just pretend she was a figment of our collective imagination?”

“Oh God,” Freja mutters. “Don’t summon her.”

“Calypso?” Mama says her hands are on Anika’s shoulders. “Thank God, she’s gone to…wherever women like her go.”

“Probably a hotel where the pillows come with collagen,” Freja suggests.

I laugh in spite of myself. The fact that I can is a minor miracle.

“Shewasa piece of work,” Tanya adds. “You okay, Ember?”

I nod. “I’m fine.”

I’m not.ButI am faking it, big time.

He left me a note this morning. It’s in the pocket of my jacket, under my snow gear—close to my heart, because that’s exactly what it touched.

My fingers stilled as I picked up the box of chocolates and envelope tied together with a red ribbon sitting outside my door on the floor.

The scent from the box hit me first—faintly citrus, a whisper of spice.

And suddenly, I wasn’t in Chamonix. I was back inSan Francisco. Cold, damp wind. Late afternoon light. The sharp smell of rain-soaked asphalt.

We’re standing outside Dandelion Chocolate on Valencia Street, huddled beneath a crooked, black umbrella.

“Why are we going in here again?” Ransom asks, glancing at his watch.

“Because…chocolate,” I reply. “And because I’m cold. And because you want to make me happy.”

He sighs, feigning resignation. “You’ve weaponized logic.”

Inside, I drag him to the display. “Ooh! Cardamom and orange.”

“That sounds like something you put on roast duck.”

“Where’s your sense of adventure?” I tease.

“Safe in 90% cacao bitter chocolate?”

I pick up the bar and inhale deeply. “It smells like a Moroccan spice market and Christmas at the same time.”

He chuckles.

I turn to him, raising an eyebrow. “Buy it for me?”

He smiles—slow, indulgent. “I’ll buy you the whole shop if you keep looking at me like that.”

Later, as we drive home, I unwrap the bar and break off a square.

“Want some?”

He nods, so I pop it in his mouth while he’s focusedon the road.

“It tastes like magic, doesn't it?” I whisper.

He glances at me. “Baby, it does to you, and that’s all that matters. I’ll keep supplying you with these…in case you ever forget what magic tastes like.”

His note in the envelope was a little on the nose.