already ended. So many things that were also my fault.
“Thank you for sharing that. It must hurt. It must have hurt so much,” she says, her tone kind and gentle. She doesn’t push for more details. She doesn’t ask questions.
For that, I fall a little harder.
That’s why I can’t bear to tell her more. I can’t bear to reveal all the details of my family.
I’ve spent nearly two decades building walls to protect myself from everything that hurts.
This admission will have to be enough.
21
Daniel
After a short trip in Nice, we greet the blue skies, calm seas, and warm, salty air of Marseille the next morning.
It’s a new day. But it feels like so much more. Days used to be units of time that I was hell-bent on carpe diem-ing, seizing every second, biting into them like peaches, savoring their juices as they delivered pleasure, money, and material goods.
Eat, drink, be merry, for tomorrow you shall die.
That’s been my mantra. It’s served me well. But today feels a bit like a new start. Like a day can be more than a feast of the senses. Like it could open up possibilities, enable promises.
That’s a terrifying thought, but a strangely welcome one too.
Perhaps because I survived telling Scarlett my secret shame.
I opened up to her, and my world didn’t shatter. The opposite happened. We came together last night, softer than the night before, more tenderly. I was careful to leave no bruises, since she’d already been marked. I kissed all those bluish spots on her body, honored them with my lips.
Now here we are in a new town, bags dropped off, room surveyed, grounds toured, stairwells checked out, and views appraised.
Le Pavillon de Marseille is not only up to our corporate standards, but it’s exceeding them in all sorts of ways.
That includes its proximity to town, so we wander through it.
As the sun rises higher in the sky, we travel along the busy streets. Tourists dart in and out of shops, peer into windows, stop at cafés.
Scarlett stops in front of a stationery store that peddles old-fashioned parchment right alongside quirky cards with funny notes like a cat with a speech bubble saying, “You’re okay, I suppose.”
I regard the woman I’ve been spending the last few days with. Scarlett seems to be changing too, ruled less by clocks and to-do lists.
Vacation Scarlett is as enticing as Type-A Scarlett. The let-down-her-guard look suits her. I hope to see more of it.
I set a hand on her arm as she stares in the window. “There’s the lollygagger in you again,” I tease.
“Exactly. I told you I could linger, and you simply didn’t believe me.”
“Color me surprised, then.”
“Good. I’m glad I’m surprising you. Or maybe it’s just the endorphins talking,” she says, teasing me, tossing my words back at me.
“I like these endorphins. I’d like to keep taking them,” I say, before the meaning of my words truly registers.
Did I just tell her I wanted to keep seeing her like this, keep having her?
Her eyes pop for a brief second as if she noted the potential in my words, but she says nothing. That’s so very like her. She doesn’t press or push but takes her time. She gives time to figure out her wants.
That’s what I’ve been doing too. I’m figuring out things that I want, and what I’ll do to get them. To keep them.
But as soon as those thoughts flit through my head, I wholly dismiss them.
I have to.
It’s one thing to share an intensely personal story; it’s another to think I’m ready to live my life differently.
This tryst is ending. We agreed to that in Giverny. She wanted the expiration date too. It’s for the best for both of us.
And that means I’ll continue carpe diem-ing.
She nudges my arm. “Perhaps you’ve rubbed off on me. Made me a lollygagger.”
“I like to rub off on you.”
She rolls her eyes, shaking her head. “Fine, I walked right into that.”
“You did, love. You definitely did.”
“Guilty as charged,” she says, sighing contentedly as we stroll, window-shopping, checking out wine stores, bookshops, and an ice-cream vendor.
I reach for her hand, clasp it, and bring her close. With her body flush against mine, I draw her in for a kiss.
That’s what she needs. That’s what I want to give her.
Even if this fling is ending, we can enjoy each moment. I can give her the best of me and still save her from the worst of me—my other side.
I kiss her, making it a promise that I’ll