City of Love isn't a place for a guy as soulless as me. Except I can see her there, standing under the shadow of the Eiffel Tower, red lipstick on her lips…those gold eyes promising me forever.
It's as clear as if I'm looking at the picture right now.
I throw down the letter and walk to my closet, taking out the shoebox that's covered in dust that I've kept in the far most corner. I couldn't bring myself to ever throw the contents of the box away, but at the same time, I've tried to pretend that the box didn't exist.
Lifting off the lid, nerves flicker through my stomach. I never imagined I would hear from her again. It was a dream, one I pushed away, just like the pictures in this box, and pretended that it didn't really exist.
I pick up the first picture, tracing the lines of her face. It took time to grow into the photographer I am now. At one time, all I cared about capturing was her.
There are hundreds of pictures in this box, each one a sucker punch to my gut because I'd forgotten that something so beautiful actually existed. My hand shakes when I pull out one of her, Logan, and Quaid.
Looking back, it's so obvious now what was going to happen. She's staring at me behind the lens in the picture, but the two of them…they couldn't look away from her face. I can remember this moment like it just happened yesterday. I had to tell them fifty times to look at the camera.
But this picture was the result.
I toss the picture back into the box and slam the lid firmly on. Then I throw the box into the closet, not caring that I just scattered pictures everywhere.
I sit on my bed, clenching and unclenching my fists.
Then I run out for a cigarette. Because if I can't smoke now, then really…when can I? The silver tendrils stretch through the air. I've smoked half the pack already, and if this doesn't give me lung cancer, then nothing probably will. Everything I've done my best to forget is right here, sliding through my mind over and over again.
That smile. That laugh. The way those lips felt against mine.
I was wrong about the desert. This moment is hell.
I take in one more draw of my cigarette and throw it in the ashtray. Walking back inside from my patio, the first thing I see is that fucking letter.
I pick it up again, tracing the words just as I had the outline of her face.
Paris.
The City of Love.
Valentina.
The photograph comes to mind. The one of that soldier holding the picture of his sweetheart. He died, and she was probably the last thing on his mind. Even though he thought she'd deserted him.
I don’t want to die someday with ugly words being the last thing I said to her.
I don't want to die someday and only have seen her face in a photograph for the rest of my life.
I guess I'm going to fucking Paris.
Chapter 4
Then
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Valentina
"Val, you have visitors!" my dad calls from downstairs.
I run out of my room, skipping every other step until I reach the foyer, where my dad stands with a widespread smile overpowering his face.
"I do?” I ask, hopeful.
"See for yourself," he replies, opening the door fully.
Standing front and center on my porch is Logan and Quaid, Carter leaning against the porch rail just behind them. Aside from their gleeful grins, the first thing I notice is that all three boys have beach towels around their shoulders and swim trunks on.
"It's going to be another scorcher today, so we thought you might like to come to the river to cool down with us," Quaid states cheerfully with his cute metal grin in tow.
"That’s very nice of you boys to ask. Isn’t that nice, Val?” my dad teases with a wink, but thankfully, none of the boys see it.
"Act cool, Dad,” I mumble under my breath.
As much as I was hoping they would pop by my house today, I’m disappointed that I will have to turn down their invitation.
"I don’t know how to swim," I admit, forlorn.
"Oh, that's okay. You can stay in the shallow end. No problem,” Logan is quick to reply.
“I don’t have a swim suit either.”
To that, Logan’s face drops instantly, but Quaid still looks oddly optimistic.
“That’s okay, too. Logan can help with that, can’t you, buddy? He's got four sisters, so I’m sure he can get one of them to lend you