I let out a breathy laugh, my relief complete, absolute. I knew who I was. I knew who they were. I was no longer floating in a sea of uncertainty. Not about my identity, anyway. I glanced at my husband and fought the concern that threatened to draw my brows together. He didn't notice. He lifted me into his arms and left Osh and Garrett to discuss the cleanup of the warehouse.
I didn't say anything when I nestled further into his arms in the back of an SUV that Garrett had rented. Having apparently come up with a plan, Osh and Garrett got in, and we headed to my apartment.
Reyes watched me the entire time. His fingers slid over my face, leaving a soft flame in their wake. It was the last thing I saw before falling into a deep, tranquil sleep.
When I jerked awake at three the next morning, still cradled in Reyes's arms, we spoke little and loved a lot. A really lot. We made love more fiercely than I ever remembered. And yet, for some reason, I didn't tell him that I had gotten my memory back. Not just yet. I didn't want to ruin the moment. And I suddenly wanted to savor the anonymity of Janey for a few hours more. To stare at him and re-remember every curve of his face. Every line of his mouth. Every contour of his sculpted body.
And as ready as I was to go home, I had a few things to see to first, so I convinced him that it was okay for him to go to work, that I'd be there shortly – not that we wouldn't be hours late. He set Osh out front to watch over me, no longer trying to hide that fact, and left with the reluctance of a man walking toward the executioner's noose as I fought a grin behind him. And then I packed.
I looked down at my box of earthly possessions. I'd already said good-bye to Mable. She took Satana and offered to sell me the Fiesta. It was tempting, but I really didn't want to drive it all the way back to Albuquerque, New Mexico. I left everything I owned – in the state of New York, anyway – in a box by the front door, said good-bye to Denzel, then turned my attention to Irma, the woman hovering in my corner.
I crossed my arms and leaned my head against the wall so I could see her face.
"Aunt Lil," I said, trying not to laugh. Or burst into tears. I knew what she was doing. I'd had a tiny Asian man hovering in the corner of my apartment in Albuquerque for years. He turned out to be the equivalent of an archangel and had left to watch over Beep, so I figured Aunt Lil was going to take his place for a while. Perhaps to give me something familiar. Perhaps because Beep's absence left her just as sad as it had the rest of us.
Playing her part to the end, she didn't answer me.
I let out a soft giggle and hugged her to me. "I'm okay now, Aunt Lil. You can come back to me."
She hugged me back. "Hey, pumpkin head," she said, her sweet, toothless smile heavenly.
"Sorry I called you Irma."
"Why? I like it. Might change my name permanent."
We hugged for a long time, and then I told her I'd meet her in Albuquerque. She nodded and vanished before my eyes.
I got ready to leave for what would amount to my last day at work. Sadly, I would leave on a bad note. I was beyond late. Everyone would already be there. And boy, would I give them a morning they would not soon forget. I wanted to scream with happiness and a sad sense of regret, but I didn't want to leave Denzel with a bad impression of me. We'd had some lovely nights, Denzel and I. Our parting would be such sweet sorrow.
With Osh following me from a distance, whistling as though he hadn't a care in the world, I made a quick pit stop at Headless Henry's best friend's house and explained the situation. He looked at me as if I were the headless one, but I was okay with that. I felt calmness come over him as I spoke, as though he finally had permission to forgive himself for something he never actually did.
There were flowers on the doors of the café and a note saying the Firelight Grill would be closed for a funeral in two days. Shayla's death would be felt for a long time to come. A somberness blanketed the café. Even those who didn't know her well felt the loss.
I was well aware of how I looked. I healed fast, more so now that I was officially a god, but I still had fresh bruises, cuts, and scrapes across my face. So the concerned glances didn't surprise me when I walked in and strolled straight to the kitchen, where a certain son of evil incarnate was making huevos rancheros.
He stopped, a coffee mug halfway to his mouth, and focused all his attention on me. I felt a languid appreciation roll out of him, and my chest contracted.
It was time.
I grabbed Sumi's stool, set it before him, and stood to face him eye to eye.
"Are you going to tell me another lie?" I asked, my voice soft.