done yet. But, if I’m being honest, I’m scared of going there.”
“Why?”
“Because when this is over, I’m going to have to find a way to live with myself, with the things I’ve done. The things I’ll continue to do. Because this is my only plan.”
He turns to me, his expression haunted. “But I dreamt it up here, all of it, right here where we’re sitting. Saint-Jean-de-Luz exists. And it’s there when I’m ready for it. And now I’m sharing my place with you, so,” he implores me with the sweep of his eyes, “what is it that you want?”
“It may seem silly, but I want Paris.”
“That’s too small, too easily attainable. Think bigger.”
“I want to have a say.”
He nods as if he understands. “Then you’ll have a say.”
“I want my own kind of sanctuary.”
“Then you’ll have it. Keep dreaming. Keep planning. Dream a thousand dreams and then make a thousand things happen.”
He pulls the wine from my hand and sets his glass down next to it.
“Poof.” I smile, the wine thrumming through my veins. “Just like that.”
“No,” he pulls my hand onto his thigh and flips it over, sliding his palm along mine. Dizzied by his touch, my body springs to life as he strokes my hand lightly with the pads of his fingers. An inch of his thick hair sags across his forehead, and I itch to touch it when his brows pinch together. “After you dream, plan, that’s when the work begins. And that’s where it gets the most complicated, your plans can get convoluted, your dreams may get watered down and grow more distant, seem out of reach, and sometimes, sometimes you lose sight of what’s important and hurt the people who rely on you. Others might get hurt in the process.” Our eyes lock with his confession. “And when that happens,” he swallows, “it might make you question who you are and just how far you will go.”
No matter how much I want to, I can’t look away.
“Cecelia,” his voice dips and my name has never sounded so beautiful coming from a man’s lips. I sit mesmerized by all he’s revealed, unbelieving this is the man I met. “I’m sorry. Truly, for the things I’ve done to you. What happened to you today—”
“It had nothing to do with you. And I don’t want to talk about it.” I still his hand, frustrated with what he’s beginning to stir within me. If I’m not careful, he’ll succeed in resurrecting my starving heart with his words, his touch. “And you’re making it seem like it’s already game over for you, when it’s not. You’re still young enough to change your plans. You have a lot of life left to live. You can still dream here. Hell, you could walk into that house in Saint-Jean-de-Luz tomorrow if you wanted to.”
“No, I can’t.” He flips my hand over, separating my fingers before lifting them to his lush mouth and kissing them one by one. Sparks ignite and fire licks up my spine as the electricity between us begins to move. Thrumming with anticipation, his voice hypnotizes me as I watch him press each of my fingers to his soft lips. The sight of it sets me on fire. “You see, my plans, my decisions, have backed me into a corner. But in this place,” he lifts simmering eyes to mine and cups my face as if he’s holding the world in his hands. My instinct is to look away, to recognize the lie, to pinpoint the deceit. But I don’t, I can’t because I feel every word he’s saying to my core. “Here, there are no outsiders, no threats, no pasts, no one else. There’s nothing but us.” Choked by his honesty, by his openness, he runs his thumb along my bottom lip, his eyes dipping briefly before he brings them back to mine. And in them, I see him so clearly for the first time. “And because of you, I see this place again for what it truly is. It hasn’t lost any of its magic. I just forgot how to look for it.”
Eyes locked, he bends, his lips so close, gaze imploring. And I can’t deny him, or myself because he’s speaking the truth. Since the day we met, we’ve been drawn to the other. Though we were born of anger, resentment, and betrayal, it’s been there. And through the fog of all of it, we were familiar.
“I know you, Cecelia, because you know me, and it’s here,