move forward, dressed in a light blue dress with black flats. God, she looked beautiful. It had been three months since I had seen her last. I tried to come to Paris as often as I was able to. The need to see her, to see how she was doing, to see if she had met anyone, was too strong for me to resist. Amy and Steven, Linnzi’s parents, had always kept me up to date on everything, but I still needed to see her with my own eyes. Maybe a small part of me still hoped she might have felt my presence—crazy as that made me.
I could almost see her glacier blue eyes from across the street when she did a quick scan of the area. Linnzi’s eyes had been the first thing I noticed when she looked at me. They felt like they had pierced into my fourteen-year-old heart and never let go. It was obvious to me now, being here, that they never would.
She tilted her head up and let the sun shine down on her face, and I clenched my fists tightly at my sides. The urge to rush across the street and touch her was almost debilitating.
Then she jerked her head back down and frowned. She looked around, but I knew she wouldn’t see me. I was tucked back into an alcove. When she stared in my direction, though, I felt my heart lurch.
“Monsieur, elle ne vous voit pas.” A female voice came from my side.
“Je ne parle pas français,” I replied.
“Really? You spoke it so well,” she replied with a wink in a heavy French accent.
My eyes drifted back over to Linnzi, who was still searching around for someone.
The woman spoke once more. “Elle te sent là-bas.”
This time my head jerked back to the older woman. “Pardon?”
She gave me a warm smile. “This woman, you come and see. She feels you there. There is a…how do you say…histoire d’amour.”
“A love affair?” I asked.
She pointed to me and then Linnzi and nodded.
I sighed. “Once upon a time.”
“Ahh, il fut un temps, oui. There was a time, yes? Vous l’aimez? You love her?”
“Yes, I love her very much.”
“She must love you. Pas de petit ami. Um, no boyfriend.”
“Really?” I asked as I watched Linnzi start down the cobbled walk.
“No. Never. It is as if she waits.”
I stepped out of my hiding place and took in the older woman. She was pretty, late fifties, maybe. “What do you mean?”
She gave me a knowing smile and then called for someone. A younger man walked over, maybe in his earlier twenties. She fired off rapid French to him as she pointed at me then over at Linnzi’s flat and then back at me. Even with how well Linnzi spoke French, I still had a hard time with it, especially when spoken fast. The young man smiled and nodded and then said, “Ahh.”
I lifted a brow as I watched them both. Then he walked closer to me and reached out his hand.
“I am John. This is my mother. She was trying to say that Linnzi, across the street. Her heart belongs to another.”
I felt my heart racing. “She’s dating someone?”
He laughed. “No. No. That is why she does not date. Um, how do you say, she has already given her heart to someone, she simply does not know who he is.”
This time I frowned as I looked between them. “What do you mean, she doesn’t know who he is?”
“She tell my mother she feels like her heart is missing someone. She has a great love but cannot remember him.”
It felt like every emotion rolled through me. Longing, sadness, excitement. Hope. Christ, it was all there in one ball.
“Elle rêve de lui,” he said with a smile.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know what that means.”
“She dreams of him, this man she is missing.”
I swallowed hard and took a few steps back as he pointed at me and said, “You are him, no?”
With a nod of my head, I moved my focus back down the street where Linnzi had gone. “God, I hope so.”
He frowned.
I tried with all my might to pull up the little bit of French I knew. “Je l`espère. I hope so.”
He smiled then patted me on my arm. “Good luck, my friend.”
“Merci,” I said as I set off after Linnzi. I knew she was heading to work at the museum, so it wouldn’t be hard to catch up with her. I also knew I would plant my ass at