“And your hair.” He frowned and ran a finger through the pink strands. “Though this shade is much more vibrant⁠—”

“This shade is not real. It is dyed this color. I’ve been dying my hair pink for years now.”

He smiled. “Yours is a lovely shade of sunset in the summer, I am not surprised you sought to replicate it.”

“I was thinking about Auryn. In my time, I’d only just learned recently that she was your daughter. You hid her so well, my love. No one expects a thing. You have kept her safe.” When he sighed and leaned back against the rock I pressed a kiss to his knuckles. “Two days ago, I found her sitting by herself and she looked so upset, like something was really bothering me. I couldn’t handle it. I went over and talked to her, asked her to tell me what was wrong — it was nothing serious, fear not — but it just hit me a moment ago that . . . that she’s mine.”

“She is your daughter. You two are so close, I cannot fathom how I will replace you⁠—”

“She loves you so much, Everest.” I slid in closer to him, until I was practically in his lap. His legs on either side of me. “You two are a team unlike anything else. I am so proud of you both. You help each other get through the centuries. Don’t shut her out, talk to her. Give her all of the emotions you might not want to share. Okay?”

“Eight hundred years.” Fresh tears pooled in his eyes. “What am I to do⁠—”

“Whatever you must.” I took his face in my hands again. “Look at me, Everest. See it in my eyes when I say it. Hear it in my voice. I don’t care what you have to do to survive as long as you survive⁠—”

“Celina—”

“I’m serious, Everest. I don’t care how you make it happen. I don’t care what you do between now and then. I just care that when I step out of that tunnel in the future, in my time, that you’re there to catch me. Do you understand?”

He just stared at me like I was crazy.

“I just need you alive, Everest.” I pressed my lips to his again then pulled back. “Eight hundred years is a long time, so I’m begging you . . . find happiness wherever you can. I don’t care if you marry a dozen other women and have fifty more children. I don’t care if you lay in a different woman’s bed every single night for eight hundred years⁠—”

“Celina,” he croaked.