to the city like I am. Simple and surreal, he has me looking around me with new eyes. Different hues and colors of the world I’ve never noticed before. A fresh perspective.
We cross the Seine river in a flow of tourists and Parisians. Not far from us, the Eiffel Tower, a skeleton of metal looms all lit up in the black night sky. Rafe takes me to a little place he knows. The aroma of coffee and food in the air is a delicious distraction as we slip into the busy café.
He orders us two coffees and a plate of macaroons. A decadent taste that will forever remind me of Paris. When I try to pay for my half, he politely refuses.
“Is that an heirloom?” I question, gesturing at his ring when were safely settled in a corner. People chatter animatedly around us in a range of different languages. Two waitresses flitter from table to table taking orders and distributing food
Rafe gazes gravely down at it for a moment where it adorns his hand. “My family crest. Our motto is in nomine mortis. Which translates from Latin into ‘In the name of the dead’. Where in the states are you from?”
It’s the creepiest moto I’ve ever heard. Then again from what I’ve seen and learned from European History, it’s all more than a little grisly.
Awareness ripples over my senses. Glancing to my left, I see an elderly couple giving us uneasy looks. Gathering their coats and belongings quickly, the old silver-haired woman crosses herself. Her husband takes her elbow, hurrying her toward the café door. What’s left of their meal is left abandoned on the table.
That’s weird. They’d seemed frightened. Attention returning to settle on my companion, I find Rafe watching the passing pedestrians on the dark street outside through the window.
I don’t bother to remove my gloves. My fingers are chilled and desperate for the lingering warmth they bring. Wrapping my hands around my mug, I savor the warmth radiating outward. “Austin, Texas. It's hot. We don't really have a winter. The traffic is always busy, and everyone is very serious about Texas Pride. This is my first trip over the pond.”
“I’ve never visited America,” he confides to me in his quiet accented voice. “I have roots here in Europe, and it has such a vast wealth of history that your country is only a baby compared to what we have here.”
“That’s true, but we still have our own kind of wonders that shouldn’t be missed,” I point out, the last few tendrils of anxiety draining away. His worldly experience has me enchanted and awed. Rafe looks like he’s in his mid-thirties, but the way he talks has the sound of someone much older.
Catching a glimpse of my youthful reflection in the nearby window, I take in my pale cheeks and red nose. The blue eyes that sparkle back are alive with happiness. Strands of long blonde hair are poking out from beneath my woollen, black hat.
“Perhaps one day I’ll make a trip. Do you have family back in the states?” Raising his drink to his mouth, his lower lip seals against the rim of the mug. Eyes half closed, he drinks deeply with a look of pleasure.
My gaze rest on the muscles of his throat in fascination as I watch them work as he swallows. “Parents and a younger brother. Do you have any family?”
Lowering his mug, he wipes the residue of the hot liquid from his lips with the back of his hand. “Cousins mainly. Only two of us are close. The city has been our home now for quite a while. Call me old fashioned, but I’m surprised a woman as beautiful as you is traveling alone.”
I pull a face at Rafe’s observation, secretly flattered at his comment. “I was supposed to come with Owen, my now ex-boyfriend. As the trip was already booked, I didn’t want to waste it. Do you work?”
“I’m an artist,” Rafe tells me softly.
That sparks my interest. “So that’s why you had a sketch pad tucked under your arm in the cemetery.”
“I was indulging my love of drawing, but mostly, I paint. Whatever comes to me, scenes, people. I’m merely a vessel for my art. It lives through me. Flows onto the canvas to take shape. My hands move with a mind of their own…You’re very being sparkles when your happy, do you know that?”
His mismatched eyes find mine. They contain so much depth and mystery I find myself drowning within