I Will Find You - Chapter Eleven

“If you insist on returning, give me your word,” he said as he squeezed her shoulder. “Just as you came here out of the blue one day, promise me that you will come back to me.”

She looked away as if to hide her gaze. “What if I want to come back but can’t?”

“If you wish to come back, but cannot..." He paused. “In that case, I will find you by any means.” He meant every word.

She chuckled. “Your majesty, I’ll just come back to you.”

 

She didn’t mean it. She didn’t want him.

Heon’s heart shattered into a million pieces. She didn’t want him. She never wanted him. She’d never touched him on her own accord; it was always him initiating, and she’d never held him. She’d never returned his kisses, her arms always at her side, never reaching for him.

She didn’t want him. She never wanted him.

She never intended to come back to him—that promise underneath the stars had been hollow. No wonder when he told her that if she couldn’t return, he would be the one to find her, she’d laughed.

She didn’t love him.

Despite her parting words, when he thought she died in his arms, she didn’t love him. Not really. She might’ve cared for him—he hoped—but she never loved him.

She didn’t love him. No one loved him.

Only his mother had loved him. And she left him.

He’s always been alone. He would always be alone.

Ji-young didn’t want him. He’d come to her. He’d come to the present, found her, kept his promise, and she just stood there, looking at him, talking about his bloody evening meal.

The only thing he could do was fall back on years of conditioning, demanding she—someone, whomever, really—needed to taste it first. Because it was the only way to get out of the restaurant. He needed to get away. Away from her, away from everything and everyone, away from Steve and Jae-hyeok’s pitying stares and words. There was nothing they could say that would console him now. Maybe ever.

The love of his life, the only woman he’d ever really wanted, didn’t want him.

Heavens, he needed to get out of there.

His insides in turmoil, feeling scraped raw by the broken shards of his heart, Heon turned and walked away, only to stop in his stride as he felt her arms clench tightly around his waist as she pressed herself against his back.

He heard that first soft, almost relieved, sob, felt her arms tighten around him, and his heart, that only moments before lay in tatters, soared.

She was embracing him. For the first time in their oh-so brief acquaintance, she’s been the one to initiate contact. She held on to him.

Could it be? Dare he hope?

He gently dislodged her grip and turned, holding onto her wrist, feeling her heart fluttering beneath his fingertips. He lifted his eyes from where her wrist lay in his hand to meet her gaze...And everything stopped.

Her teary eyes were soft and inviting, revealing her heart and her desire as she stared at his mouth. The look of a woman in love. The look of a woman wanting to kiss and be kissed. And he couldn’t resist. He never could resist her.

Both hands on her back, he pulled her to him and captured her mouth with his. His heart sped up and his blood heated as she immediately parted her lips beneath him, her tongue welcoming his, their breaths mixing, merging.

She was responding to his kiss.

Finally.

He was finally, truly home.

 

Sun-geum slapped Chef Eom on his shoulder as the entire restaurant staff and most of the patrons—those who weren’t busy taking photos of their food, that is—stared wide-eyed and open-mouthed at the embracing couple.

It wasn’t right to stare, but damn it, the two looked so beautiful together. They fit so perfectly, not an inch of space between them as they kissed as if their lives depended on it.

“They should get a room,” Chef Eom muttered beside her, and she chuckled.

Her smile faded as she looked toward the entrance to the restaurant. Did a double take. No way! Steve Im and Shin Jae-hyeok stood there, grinning like fools, staring at the embracing couple.

Steve looked at her and winked, giving her the thumbs up.

Weasels! They’ve obviously known the king had travelled into the future and didn’t tell them.

There would be time for that conversation later...She snuck a look back to Ji-young and the king...And quickly looked away again, probably gochu red in the face.

Who wouldn’t be?

The two had obviously forgotten where they were. Ji-young had her hands up around the king’s neck, fingers tunneled into his dark hair, while he had one hand on her butt, dipping her slightly back as he devoured her mouth.

Chef Eom was right. The two should get a room. Plenty of those in a hotel.

∞

The drive to her house was a blur; the only thing she remembered was holding onto his hand like it was a lifeline, her head resting on his shoulder.

Ji-young got out of the Uber, still holding his hand. She was still in her chef’s whites—Ji-hu had shooed them out of the restaurant without giving her the opportunity to change and told her to take the next day off—her hair tumbling down her shoulders, its decorative hairnet in the pocket of the king’s black—sexy as hell—suit.

She swallowed. He looked good in black. He looked good. Period. Vibrant. Alive. Here.

She had no idea how he’d come to be in the present. And she didn’t really care that much, to be honest. He was there with her. That was all that mattered.

What if it’s all a dream? an insidious voice in her head whispered. What if he’s been dead for the past 500 years and you’re just imagining things?

Her heart ached. What if it was a dream? What if he wasn’t really there? Maybe she was still in a coma at the hospital, imagining things, dreaming wishful dreams.

She clutched at his hand with both of hers. He felt so real. So warm. So present.

He cleared his throat, looking down at her with a slight smile. “Well, good night.”

“Huh?”

“May I see you in the morning?” he murmured.

What? Was he planning on leaving? Leaving her? Now? No way. She couldn’t let him go. What if it was all a dream? She didn’t want to wake up. If he was only a figment of her imagination, she never wanted to wake up.

“Stay,” she blurted.

He blinked. “Pardon?”

“Stay,” she repeated, grabbed the lapels of his suit, stood on tiptoes, and kissed him. “Stay with me,” she whispered against his lips.

“Cook Yeon—”

“The name is Ji-young,” she whispered, brushing her lips against his. “I’m not your chief royal cook anymore. And I want you to stay. I need you to stay. I need to know it’s really you. I need to know you’re really here. And if this is a dream, I never want to wake up.”

She needed the reassurance, and she needed him. It was just the two of them, after all. Ji-young and Heon. No court politics, no intrigue, no conspiracies, no prying eyes and ears, no need to keep her distance.

He came to her; he kept his promise; there was nothing holding them, holding her back. She was his, and he was hers. And she needed him. She needed to feel him, know he was alive, know that he was with her. That it was really him.

And if it was all a dream, she never wanted to wake up.

“Cook—Ji-young,” he whispered. “I...”

“Don’t you want me?” she whispered back, her heart skipping a beat.

He swallowed. “I’ve never wanted anyone more in my entire life. It’s just...”

She grinned, giddy and a little lightheaded. Good to know chivalry wasn’t dead. “You’re not in Joseon anymore. You’re with me in the 21st century. And I choose you. I love you, jeonha,” she repeated her last words to him in his time.

They had the desired effect. His jaw clenched, his eyes blazed, gaze zeroing on her lips.

She grabbed his tie, pulling him down to her. “Stay.”

“I love you.”

His whispered words made her heart soar, and his kiss made her toes curl.