“Great.” He smiled bright. “Au revoir, Lacey.”
“Au revoir, Léon.” I nodded once and then headed off the stage.
After leaving the main performance hall, I pushed out of the house doors. The heat of my face finally eased as I made my way down the busy afternoon streets of Paris. The cool breeze of the day wisped around my body and sent a slight chill through me, so I pulled on the ends of the brown sleeves of my turtleneck to cover my fingers. I let the historic landscapes and zooming streetcars distract me for only a moment before I decided to call Margot. I knew she hated it, but I was getting that anxious feeling again. This new environment was still overwhelming for me, and I needed my ally.
I fished my phone out of my bag and made the call.
It rang only a few times.
“Girl, you are killing me with these international charges.”
I knew she wouldn’t like it. I let out a breath. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to talk.”
“About what this time? I thought rehearsals were going well.”
I sighed. A rogue delivery biker brushed past me, and I curled into my call. Shaking off the surprise, I said, “Another guy hit on me today.”
She laughed into the receiver. “So?”
“So they’re getting more frequent, and I have to keep making up lame excuses. You know I hate lying to people, Margot.”
“You are the only girl I know who is upset about being hit on by French men. Why don’t you take one of them up on their offer? You might just have a good time.”
My heart leaped. “You know I can’t do that.”
“Well, you haven’t called a certain someone. Isn’t that basically making a declaration that you’re single?”
“No, it’s not. And I only haven’t called him because I need a game plan. How is he going to react when I tell him, ‘Hi, Drake. Haven’t talked to you in a while, but I love you. Oh, and by the way, I’m in France, so don’t date anyone while I’m here.’ I have to come at this with finesse. Give him a convincing argument.”
“Your convincing argument is right there. You love him. So just call him and tell him. Hey, hold on a sec.”
I rolled my eyes. “Let me guess, you have a customer at the door.”
She was silent.
“Margot?” My eyes shifted as I listened for her voice.
“Okay. I’m back.”
I laughed. “All right.”
“Sorry just had a thing I had to handle.” Her voice hitched up an octave into the phone like she was fighting from saying one of her squee!’s.
“What’s your deal? You sound happy all the sudden.”
“Nothing. Hey, um, where are you anyway?”
My lashes flickered at the question. “Why?”
“I want to MapQuest you. Make it seem like I’m there. Just tell me.”
Snickering, I looked ahead. Down the street from my flat, I was approaching a small pastry stand where I usually got my breakfast from. I gazed at the street signs. “I’m just outside a small pâtisserie stand on the corner of Monggg . . .” I tried to sound it out, but couldn’t. I let out a huff. “Why does it matter, anyway?”
“Wait. You said a pattisarrrie?”
I laughed. Her French was worse than mine. I only knew the word because the employee working at the stand I go to stated it over and over for me until I got it down. He was a really sweet old man.
“Is that the place you said had those kickass croissants outside of your apartment?”
“Yeah.” My tummy grumbled at the thought. The stand was coming into the distance, so I increased my steps.
Making eye contact with the small gentlemen behind the stand, I gave him a small smile.
“Your usual, Lacey?” he asked, reaching for a croissant with tissue paper.
Not wanting to be rude with my call, I said, “Just a second, monsieur.”
I turned away and let others in the line go ahead of me.
“Margot?” My eyes shifted as I waited for her to say something. “Margot?” Pulling my phone from my ear, I saw the dropped call.
I groaned. I needed to speak with my carrier. I was dropping way too many calls these days since I got this new line over here.
Figuring I’d call her back, I put my phone into my satchel and approached the stand again. “Oui, monsieur. The usual croissant will be fine.”
“Make that two croissants, s’il vous plaît.”
The voice came from a porcelain face I knew all too well as she arrived at my right.
I stood there in disbelief as Adele grinned at me.
“Adele, what the heck?”
Smiling bright, she put her arms around me.
“Hey. Hey, what are you doing here?” I held her out at arm’s length to look at her. With her navy skirt and white blouse, she looked the quintessential French girl.
“Came to see you, of course. Wow. You look great.” She studied my outfit and curly bun.
I framed my hair, giving a wide grin. “Not too lame?”
“No. No. Not at all. Absolutely fabulous.”
She paid the man his euros for our pastries, then took the bread from him.
Wanting to get out of the way of the waiting customers, I pulled Adele to the side. “You’re here to see me? Did your parents take you?”
“Nope.” She handed me both croissants.
I frowned at them. “Aren’t you going to take yours?”
“They go better with coffee.” She glanced across the busy street.
When I looked that way my heart thumped a mile a minute. Drake was there, shaking two paper cups with a strong smile that had to have broken many hearts. I was pleased to say he never did break mine. Not ever. My heart had only ever remained whole because of him.
The small of my back was pushed from behind by Adele.
On autopilot, I crossed the street with croissants in hand. It was a good thing traffic was clear. My eyes wouldn’t veer away from Drake’s handsome face and mahogany eyes long enough to avoid a collision.
When I got to him, he didn’t say a word, just gestured with the coffees for me to follow him. I did, and was taken to a blanket laid out on a patch of grass in the park square across the street from my flat.
When he sat, I joined him. Neither of us looked away from the other’s gaze during our movements. It was like we were lost in the other.
I was forced to come out of it when he held out a paper cup to me; he wore the warmest expression I’d ever seen anyone give to someone else.
“Café au lait, Lacey?” he asked, his lips tipped up to the side.
The goose pimples covered my arms from his deep, velvet voice mixed with his perfect accent. I exchanged the coffee with milk for the other croissant and actually managed to keep a hold of my items despite his effect on me.
He took the pastry, but didn’t eat it right away. He did take a sip of his coffee, though, watching me from over the plastic lid as he drank.
Like I was his marionette, I followed his direction, peeking at him from over my coffee cup as I sipped, as well. Swallowing the warm, rich liquid like a giant rock, I gulped hard.
“Finished?” he asked with a small grin.
I nodded, and he took both my coffee and pastry. After placing them to the side, he leaned down on his arm, lounging on the blanket with one knee up.
Flattening out my skirt, I leaned down, as well. We now blended in with the rest of the couples spending their afternoon on blankets in the park.
I couldn’t concentrate on what was happening around us, though. I was transfixed on Drake. His attention didn’t leave me either. We both just kind of stared at each other. Like it wasn’t real that the other was here.
Dampening the inside of my mouth with my tongue, I prepared to speak to him. I wanted to talk to him so badly, and I wasn’t going to let the shock of his presence defeat me. “You’re here.”
His dashing smile strengthened. “I am.”
“How did you find me?”
“Derrick. And most recent
ly . . .” Reaching into his jeans, he pulled out his phone and set it on our blanket. “Margot.”
I gave a short laugh. I guess that explained her earlier questioning . . . and the dropped call. The girl set me up. That wonderful girl.
Shaking my head, I stared ahead of us. “And I see you brought your sister.”
Chuckling, Drake looked over to Adele who had made her way to a park bench. She pretended not to watch us, but her gaze kept creeping over in our direction.
He looked back at me. “She wouldn’t let me come unless she could. I kind of had to borrow money from her to get here. I didn’t have much of a choice but to abide by her demands.”
My eyebrows shot up. “You had to borrow money? Why?”
Drake came from more than enough to handle something as meager as a trip to Paris. I knew proof of that by the large check his father gave me.
He ran his finger against the material of the blanket. “That’s what you have to do when you don’t have any.”
My heart jumped. “What? What happened? Did your parents end up cutting you off? What did you do?” I thought with me gone he’d have no problems from their end. Did his mom follow through with her threat?
He stopped his finger on the blanket when something from my wrist took his attention, the sunlight gleaming down on the charm bracelet I wore that day. Lifting his hand, he ran his finger over the sparkling charms. I had two new ones added since he gave it to me. A silver, miniature Eiffel Tower was one of those charms, and the other was a cursive letter “D.”
His finger stopped on the “D.” Brushing over the letter with his thumb, he had a small smile on his face.
My expression matched his as I watched him study it. He shouldn’t be surprised it was there.
Moving along the charm, he went to the closest one next to it—the “L.” He was only there a few moments before he moved his hand from the bracelet entirely.
His fingers ultimately stopped on the top of my hand. Once there, he drew a small circle on my skin and even my scalp felt the tingle from the contact.
“I fell for a girl,” he said, answering my former question.
I swallowed hard, staring at where his fingers touched me. “You did?”
He nodded. “One my parents didn’t approve of.” He glanced up at me from under dark eyelashes.
“And,” I breathed out, “they cut you off because of it.”
“Nope.” He laced his long fingers with mine, watching them mingle together for a long moment before he spoke again. “I walked away.”
I rose up in surprise, completely shocked by what he said. But even with the abrupt action he didn’t let go of my hand. He never parted from me.
“You did?” I gasped out.
He gave a small smile. Rising up as well, he held my hand between both of his large ones. “I did.”
“Are you in school?”
He shook his head. “Withdrew.”
“Why? What will you do? Where will you live?”
“I was, uh, thinking a small flat in that building over there.” He pointed in the distance across the street.
The classic, tan brick building had green shutters on the tall windows.
My building.
“Seems fitting since I just signed the papers and gave them the deposit and next six months rent this afternoon. It’s the reason why I have no money.” He grinned, the corner of his bottom lip between his teeth.
“But . . .” I blinked. “You mean you’re going to . . . You’re moving here? To Paris?”
“That was kind of the point of renting out the flat.”
“To be with me?” I whispered.
He gave a short laugh. “That was also kind of the point.”
I placed my hand on my forehead; still unable to process he was here let alone moving here. But he was here, and was moving here. To be with me . . .
“I got your letter, Lacey.”
Snapping out of my thoughts, I narrowed my eyebrows at him. “My letter?”
“Yeah, and I’m sorry, but it will never make it to my father. I just can’t make myself part with it. I’m seriously framing it and putting it up in my place.”
Oh. That letter. My cheeks blazed, completely embarrassed. Some of the things I said I wasn’t terribly proud of. I couldn’t help myself. I was just so mad . . . I’d never regret sending it, though. Regardless of how mean those things I wrote were that man deserved them for what he did to Drake and me.
I looked up at him. “How did you get it?”
“The post office sent it to my dorm by mistake because of the name. I’m glad they did. The thing seriously gave me hard-on for like an hour. Okay, I’m exaggerating a bit, but it did give me one.”
I popped my hand to my mouth, snickering.
Pulling my hand from my face, he brought my hands to his lips and brushed a kiss. “I would have come here anyway, though. Letter or no letter.”
“You would have?”
“I would have. I’m so sorry, Lace. For everything. For letting my father come between us. For dwelling on stupid technicalities. For not—” When he looked away, his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. “For not being there for you when your mother passed.”
I slid my hand out of his and to his cheek to make him look up at me. He didn’t talk to me, just leaned his cheek into my hand with his eyes shut tight.
“You had to go through that alone . . .” he whispered into my hand, his warm breath touching my palm. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that alone, Lace.”
My heart ached as I watched him, his expression completely wretched. The fact that I was alone wasn’t his fault. Not really, and I realized it that day with Margot. “Don’t feel bad, Drake. It’s my fault you weren’t there. Not yours.”
He looked up at me, eyes wandering between mine. “Your fault?”
“I was weak. I hesitated. I gave you a reason to doubt me.”
Pulling away from my hand, his own went to my cheek. “No, Lace. No.”
I nodded into his hand, my eyes threatening tears. “But what happened is my fault. I could have ripped up that check, Drake. I didn’t. I was weak. I was weak and let us fade away.”
“No, you didn’t.” He moved closer, and his other hand joined my cheek.
Rubbing my cheek against his hand, I closed my eyes. God I missed him so much.
“Your strength is the reason we didn’t. Despite what happened between us you still fought. You never gave up.” He leaned in. “You wrote a kiss-my-ass letter to the senator of Illinois for pity sake. I’d say that’s pretty damn strong.”
Sniffling back tears, I laughed.
“You inspire me everyday, Lacey. You get crap thrown at you from every which way, but you don’t let it defeat you. You stay strong, and you fight back every time. It was you who fought for us when I was too stubborn to do it myself. You . . . You fought for me.”
I fluttered open my eyes. “Because I love you.”
Drawing in close, he leaned his forehead against mine, and that familiar wave of his blood-warming scent took over my senses almost instantly.
The heat of his lips approaching, I closed my eyes.
“Lace?” he whispered, his lips brushing mine.
I rubbed my nose against his. “Yeah?”
“What do you see?”
Opening my eyes, I followed his gaze over my shoulder. There were many people around the park; most of them couples. Some chatted on blankets, others walked their dogs, and some held hands while licking ice cream.
I turned back toward him. “What am I looking for? I don’t see anything.”
He smiled. “Exactly. There’s nothing. No one is watching us.” He pulled in closer. “Which means no one will care about what I’m about to do to show the woman I love how much I love her.”
He crushed his lips against mine, and I cuffed his wrists while he took my lips. I embraced it all, absorbed every bit of the expression of his love to me.
While we kissed there
was no fanfare, but there was no objection, either. There was only what he said: nothing.
Sweet nothing.
Acknowledgments
I just want to take a moment to thank everyone who helped me with the creation of this novel. A novel is not just the author and their words, but the team of players behind it. Thank you family and friends for all your continued support, thank you to my beta readers Amanda and Jade for all your help and awesome feedback, and thank you to my editor Marcie for all your fabulous work on this project.
A special shout-out goes to my cover artist Sarah at Okay Creations for finding such a beautiful Lacey for me. When I told her I had a biracial heroine and an Asian hero, she didn’t blink an eye at the challenge and the end result was perfect. I look forward to more of your delicious covers.
A special thanks to my writing buddy Jade. You’ve helped me so much with your encouraging late night Facebook chats and continue to be my rockstar support system. Stay strong lady. We’re in this together for the long haul!
And I can’t put into words how grateful I am for my wonderful hubby, my real inspiration for writing a novel about an interracial couple. You understand the woes and hardships that come along with an interracial relationship and I thank you for staying strong alongside me :-)
A special note to the readers, bloggers, and my writing friends: you rock. You’re the reason I write and the reason I can continue to write. Thank you for keeping me doing what I’m doing. Hearts you all!
About the Author
Victoria H. Smith has a Bachelor’s Degree in Political Science. She puts it to good use writing romance all day. She resides in the Midwest with her MacBook on her lap and a cornfield to her right. She often draws inspiration for her stories from her own life experiences, and the twenty-something characters she writes give her an earful about it.
In her free time, she enjoys extreme couponing, blogging, reading, and sending off a few tweets on Twitter when she can. She writes new adult fiction romance in the sub-genres of science fiction, urban fantasy, and contemporary, but really, anywhere her pen takes her she goes.
Links:
Blog: http://twentysomethingfictionwriter.blogspot.com/
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