She turned and stared for an eternity. It was as if her face froze and thawed over an eon of both ice and sunshine. But in the end it was her smile—dawning like a candle lit in a dark cave—that told him he had made the right decision. She loved him, he could feel her love, and he had never cared for her more than he did in that instant. She reached out her hand and he took it.

“I knew,” she said, and a tear ran over her cheek.

He shook his head. “You didn’t know.”

She nodded to herself and her single tear burst into a river of weeping. “No, I knew you couldn’t be dead. All this time I told myself, ‘He was too smart to die. He had too much magic.’” She wiped her damp face and sniffled. “Oh, Matt, why didn’t you call me?”

He shrugged. “You’re a married woman.”

She was in shock, he could tell. She spoke like someone dreaming. “Is that why you had to go away?” she asked.

“Yes. I’m sorry.”

She moved close and rubbed his arm. “It’s all right, you’re here now. I’m glad you’re here.”

He put his arm around her and the sensation of holding her was another type of falling. Into perfumed clouds of opium, where the warmth and haze were an addiction to die for. He had not planned what he would say to her.

“I missed you,” he said.

“I missed you.” She placed her palm on his heart and leaned deeper into his side. “I’m sorry about what happened. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s all right, it’s over.”

She looked up into his face. He remembered the power in her eyes then, the spell they could cast. The knowledge did nothing to save him. She leaned forward and their lips met and he lost his parachute and forgot all reason.

“I love you,” she said.

“I love you,” he replied. “I’ve always loved you.”

She sat up and leaned back slightly and stared some more. Then she shook her head and cried a little more. “Are you really here?”

He smiled. “Yeah, it’s real. I’m still alive.”

Her shock was wearing off. “Can you tell me what happened?”

He had to look away. “I was mad at you. I was in horrible pain. I wanted to hurt you. I wanted to die.”

“And you decided to do both?”

He nodded to the ground. “Yes.”

“You faked your own death?”

“Yes.”

“So you could hurt me?” she asked.

“Yes.” He felt the sweat between their hands. “I hurt you, Amy.”

She did not understand. “You have no idea. When I heard you’d died, I wanted to die. At night I would go out in my car for hours and search for a cliff to drive off.”

“But you didn’t,” he said, and felt a pang.