Gaspard steps aside and Kate and Vincent begin their vows.

“Who knew Gaspard was so romantic?” I whisper.

“I know,” agrees Siaka, placing his hand on his chest. “‘Signaling to us their chosen ones?’ Heart melting.”

We sit silently, listening to the couples’ vows, but I’m too distracted to take anything in. There’s something I want to say to Siaka. Now, not later. But I don’t dare mess it up by whispering. What if he doesn’t hear? Or understand?

Wait till later, I urge myself. But, unable to resist, I take Siaka’s hand, flipping it over to place it upright atop my knee, using his palm as a writing pad. With my finger, I trace out the letters:

S I A K A...

I...

C H O O S E...

Before I can finish, he pulls his hand from mine and traces on my palm with his own finger: Y O U.

His eyes meet mine and we both smile. It’s a smile that agrees we’re together. It’s a smile that admits we’ve only just begun. It’s a smile that says we’ve all the time in the world. All the time to know each other.

Lifetimes, actually.

Acknowledgements

Jumping back into the revenants’ world has been a wild ride. But after hundreds of messages from you, my readers, I decided to take on the mission. The result? Louis and Siaka and a reunion of the beloved members of La Maison.

Thanks to those friends who provided a sounding board...

Reading manuscripts to each other with Laura Lam, the two of us poolside atop a volcanic cliff in Ischia, Italy. (Our one big trip between lockdowns!) Brainstorming with Mags Harnett in Paris and Dublin. Read-throughs by Lori Stephens and Claudia Depkin. Conversations about story with Celeste Rhoads.

To my soul sisters—Kim, Diana and Mags—for providing unconditional love always, no matter what shit comes down.

Much gratitude to Hannah Kaner, her dad Ben, and the entire Kaner family for allowing me to escape Paris to their Normandy house over two years during Covid. The dead blackbird falling down the chimney next to the fire mere feet away from where I was musing (and, ugh, eating) was an omen that magic will always reign over La Fericotière.

I finished the book while perched upstairs in Conor Horgon’s beautiful house in central Dublin. Thank you.

To Tara Weikum for helping me shape DIE FOR ME into what it is today.

Huge thanks to Karen Ball at Speckled Pen for the edits (and for deleting my dozens of “just”s). Also to Jas Poole for the gorgeous cover!