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It takes a little over three years for Henry Strauss to finally reveal himself as the author of The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue to the public. Or rather, to be finally convinced that he had to by his publicist and agent — that’s how Addie assumed things must’ve gone, anyway. She knows he wanted that book to remain like a secret between the two of them, the last thing that would ever be given from him to her and vice versa.
But her story became a global hit, and if Henry really wanted to make a living out of writing stories and sharing them with the world, it would be better if people knew who he was.
Addie watches as somebody fixes up the 50th anniversary edition of the book by the display window. She’s too far to actually be able to read his name, but she can see it. On the bottom of the cover in text so small compared to the title and in a color that almost blends into the background. Almost as if he was saying, “They can have my name but they’ll always remember you first, Addie. Always.” with the creative decision. Her chest aches as her subconscious conjures up Henry’s voice telling her so in her head.
She takes a step forward, intending to cross the street and walk into the shop, but an arm snaking around her waist doesn’t let her get very far.
“Time to go home, my love,” her companion whispers in her ear, in a tone that leaves no room for arguments but is gentle and hypnotizing to her all the same.
Addie turns and the arm around her waist holds on to her tighter. Luc was as strikingly handsome as he was infuriating, and for all her years of doing the exact opposite of what he asked of her, it was getting a little harder to with their new deal.
She tells herself it’s a sad case of Stockholm Syndrome, or at the very least his powers doing something to her. Not because she’s grown to like waking up to his fingers tracing nonsensical patterns on her skin in the morning, not because he’s taken her to beautiful places in the blink of an eye and smiled at her so, so genuinely as she enjoyed herself in them. And certainly not because she leans into his touch more often than she flinches away now.
My Adeline. You have changed more than you think.
She doesn’t like to think about it or any of its implications for long, and the middle of a sidewalk was no place for such thoughts.
Her arms wrap around Luc’s frame as the darkness whisks them away.
— — — — — —
“I bought something for you.”
He’s gone into the hall before she can ask him what it is or why exactly he’s gotten her something. It wasn’t her birthday and there were a few months left until their so-called anniversary. Though they never celebrated it, it wasn’t the anniversary of the sealing of her second deal either.
Addie’s about to call out for him when she feels a breeze pass on her right. Luc is beside her again, only with a neatly wrapped rectangular item in his hands this time. She eyes both him and the gift wearily, but he only lets out an amused chuckle as he extends it to her. It curves a little when she reaches out for it with one hand and Addie knows exactly what it is.
It’s a book. It’s the book. She doesn’t need to rip the wrapping off for confirmation.
The thing she does want to know is what Luc’s angle was in giving it to her. “What are you doing, Luc?” Addie’s eyes are glued to the still concealed book in her hands, trying to keep her breathing even. She couldn’t tell if she was more angry than she was confused.
“Giving you something you want. I know you were planning on browsing through this in that bookshop earlier — maybe even planned on stealing it, hmm?” Luc hums as he takes a couple steps forward. Addie would have to tilt her head all the way up to look at him now. “Not that you need to. You know the story by heart and know that the ending hasn’t changed, Adeline.”
She swallows, mouth opening slightly to say something, but he cuts her off. “You are still mine.”
He’s right. He’s fucking right and she knows it just as well as he did.
Still, Addie’s stubbornness wins over like it always does. “If you wanted to give me something I wanted, you’d let me go.”
“That isn’t in our terms of agreement, my love. And that’s not something you truly want anymore, is it?”
She steps back from him and turns away, walking over to the console table to set the book down. She thinks she’s done a good job of supposedly staying true to their new deal; reciprocating his affections, never trying to get away from him, acting like she had truly accepted her fate to be with him forever. But in the last decade or so, the lines have blurred. Too often did she lay with him and wonder if she was still trying to convince him with her lies, or if she was trying to convince herself that they were still lies.
Gods like Luc weren’t capable of real love, but Addie’s never felt something more real in her life than his unwavering devotion to her ever since they found each other again.
Maybe that isn’t love. At least she tells herself it isn’t. She’s not sure the clarity of it really matters anymore, though.
“You know the answer to that,” she says and turns to face him again. Her tongue feels heavy and her mouth dry as she swallows her pride, but all seems right again when she feels Luc’s hands gently cup her face. Sometimes it was still baffling to know those same hands have done some unthinkable things to so many people throughout the years— her included. Now his touch was only ever rough on her when she asked him to be.
Luc smiles down at her fondly, mumbling, “My Adeline.” Then he leans down to kiss her, and there’s no protest or performance in the way she presses herself against him, wanting more and everything he would give her.
She truly has changed more than she thinks.