by Chloé Duval
“Is this how it’s going to be from now on?” I shouted. “You’re just going to come and go like a thief, without even talking to me?”
He stopped, but barely even turned.
“What do you want, Alex?” he asked coldly.
I had never thought that I would come to regret the times when he called me “princess.” “For you to have the basic decency to say hello!” I retorted, stalking up to him. “You’re angry with me, fine, you don’t want to answer my emails, okay, but you could at least be civilized in front of my boss and the entire town!”
“I have nothing to say to you.”
The bitter cold in his voice was like a knife in my heart. Anger and disappointment welled up inside me again, as hot and strong as they had been the day he had left. The words were out of my mouth before I could swallow them back.
“Goddammit, Éric, what do you want from me?”
“What do I want?” he repeated, glaring daggers at me. “You’re asking me what I want?”
He’d drifted closer as he spoke, so close that I had to crane my neck to meet his eyes.
“Yes! Because I don’t know what else I can do for you to forgive me! To listen to me!”
We hadn’t spoken in close to five months, and yet it seemed as though it had been only yesterday we were fighting on the threshold of the old stables. The long weeks apart had not healed the wounds nor soothed the pain—for either of us.
“Nothing, Alex! There’s nothing you can do! It’s too late!”
He turned his back before I could answer, but I seized his arm and forced him around to face me. His eyes flashed with anger. The tension between us was thick enough to cut.
“Why did you come back?” I attacked before he could say anything. “If it was just to make sure I knew that you still hadn’t forgiven me and that you never would, because you’re a stubborn son of a bitch and you don’t want to try and understand, you could have saved yourself a trip. I got the message loud and clear the first time.”
“I came back because I had things to sort out, and it had nothing to do with you. But don’t worry, I’m leaving again next week, and for a long time. We won’t see each other again.”
A lead weight settled over me.
He laughed derisively.
“What did you think? That I came back to kneel at your feet begging for mercy, perhaps?”
Did he have to be so cruel?
I sighed wearily.
“I just—I just want you to listen to me, Éric. I want you to understand that I never meant to lie or hurt you. I—”
“Tough luck, princess!” he interrupted. “Too late. You had your chance, you blew it. Too bad!”
“Oh, go screw yourself!” I shouted, exasperated and out of arguments, unthinkingly stepping closer to him. “You and your goddamn temper can go to hell, I don’t even give a damn anymore!”
“Fine!” he yelled back, moving one step closer too.
His face was suddenly so near it filled my entire vision, the heat of his body radiating all around me. And his smell…God his smell… I had forgotten how good he smelled. I was suddenly torn between the desire to claw his eyes out and the urge to kiss him silly.
For a fraction of a second, his gaze strayed down to my lips, and I saw his jaw clench. There was a funny feeling, like pins and needles, around my heart—or maybe my gut, I couldn’t tell.
“Okay!” I managed to reply.
“I’m leaving.”
“Yeah, go ahead. It’s what you do best.”
Still he did not move. He stayed there in front of me, staring at my lips. My breath came in short pants. Then he shook his head slightly and grunted as he spun on his heel. An incontrollable urge came over me and before I knew what I was doing, my hands had latched onto the lapels of his leather jacket to pull him down toward me—and without further ado, I kissed him.
Startled, Éric didn’t react at first. But he didn’t reject me. So I pushed my luck and hauled on his jacket, opening my mouth slightly to tease his lips with my tongue. A deep rumble rose from his chest, and just like that, his attitude switched from zero to a hundred. Suddenly his hands were all over me—on my face, tilting it back to deepen the kiss; in my hair, unraveling my bun completely; on my back, sliding down toward my ass, over it; behind my thighs, lifting one leg then the other.… Half a second later my legs were around his waist, my back against some kind of wall, and his mouth was eating me right up, greedily and passionately, swallowing my moans before they could escape my mouth even as his tongue searched for mine frantically, needily, desperately.
It wasn’t a kiss mean to seduce or win me over. It was brutal, primal, intense. Uncompromising.
I had never felt so alive.
I no longer felt the cold, and I had completely forgotten where we were. My blood was afire, my skin burned and only one word rang through my mind—more.
I needed more, now.
I was losing my mind, and I did not want it to stop.
But it did, and abruptly at that. One moment Éric was huskily murmuring my name, and the next he wrenched his lips away from mine, setting me back down as his body released me.
Panting, he looked at me—and I hated what I saw in his burning, dark gaze. Hated it.
“Éric,” I breathed, still dizzy, trying to keep him there.
To no avail.
He took a step back, then another, and another.
“Don’t go,” I begged. “Please don’t go.”
“Sorry, princess,” he murmured. “This was a mistake. It won’t happen again.”
The sudden return to reality was like a slap in the face, and tears welled up in my eyes.
Éric spun around and jumped onto his bike, disappearing into the night, leaving me behind with my wild hair and swollen lips—and my broken heart.
Again.
* * * *
A week went by.
A week during which I tried—with dubious success—to forget what had happened between the two of us by throwing myself into my work. Which was easier said than done when everything about that work brought me back to him, and only him.
I kept thinking of the kiss—and of his hurtful words.
“This was a mistake. It won’t happen again.”
It hurt as much the hundredth time as it had the first.
After a few days of this, exhausted and running on empty, I had finally arrived at a decision, probably one of the most difficult in my life.
This situation couldn’t last. For my own mental and emotional health, I had to give up on Éric. I knew he still had feelings for me. He wouldn’t have kissed me so desperately if he hadn’t. But it was equally clear that he didn’t want to fix things between us. He didn’t want to fight for me. To forgive me. I couldn’t keep on hurting myself sighing after someone who didn’t want me and had made it known unequivocally.
So I had typed a short message telling him that he was right, and that it was best for both of us if our paths didn’t cross again. I would deal only with Marine from now on, as he had wanted from the start.
Goodbye, Éric, I’d concluded. I hope you will be happy.
I knew that this was a purely symbolic gesture that would only matter to me, but I had to do it. I needed to in order to turn over a new leaf.
I had wept for a long, long time after sending the message. I had felt empty, and I knew I would need time before the sensation vanished.
But it would, eventually. And then everything would be fine.
Or so I hoped.
Cheerful ringing from my cell phone brought me back to the present and into the small office Bruno had cleared for me on the fourth floor of the Chandeniers town hall until my own was built. I fished the phone out of my purse and smiled at the name flashing across the screen. Marine.
Alex, can you join me in the
vineyard as soon as possible?
My fingers flew over the digital keyboard.
Is it urgent?
Kind of.
OK. Gotta finish something first, I’ll be quick. I’ll text you when I leave.
Fifteen minutes later, car keys in one hand, red woolen coat in the other, I hurried out of my office.
Despite the fine layer of snow on the road, the drive from the town center only took me a few minutes. I’d barely hummed the last bars to Sex on Fire by Kings of Leon before the turn to the future vineyard appeared in my headlights.
Still singing under my breath, I parked by the gate opening on the northern side of the grounds. Then I pulled on the adorable black felt cloche hat I’d found in a vintage shop and grabbed the flashlight I kept in the glove box.
The air outside was cold but not freezing. Wrapping my scarf loosely around my neck, I looked up. It was a cloudless, moonless night. A thousand stars glittered on high, like tiny diamonds hanging from the vault of heaven. Closing my eyes, I breathed in, letting the quiet wash over me. My thoughts drifted immediately toward Gabrielle, as they so often had over the last few months. It had been on a night like this that Thomas had asked for her hand, over one hundred years ago almost to the day. And their path had been riddled with obstacles, but their love had been stronger than any—or at least, Gabrielle had been daring and determined enough to send any roadblocks to hell, and give fate the nudge it needed.
A stroke of luck—backed, from what Flavie had told me, by hours and hours of research while I strove to defend my project in front of my bosses—had allowed her to find a letter from Gabrielle to her friend Sophie. And so it had been from my ancestor’s own hand that we had both learned how she had crossed the ocean in search of Thomas—and pulled an explanation from him.
I had sighed in giddy relief. Gabrielle and Thomas’s reunion had been as epic as their first meeting, and after so much suffering, they deserved their happy ending.
It was uplifting. Gabrielle was an inspirational woman. And perhaps a part of me had hoped for an equally simple outcome when I had followed Éric after the cocktail party. But my own nudge of fate did not yield the result I had hoped. I had to face the facts. My story would not mirror my ancestor’s—there was no happy ending in store for me.
Sighing, I shook my head to clear my thoughts and resolutely walked up to the gate.
“Marine? Are you there?” I called. “Why the hell did she ask me to meet her here?” I muttered to myself. “The inn would have been much more comfortable!”
The sight on the other side of the gate stopped me dead in my tracks, eyes wide open.
“Whoa! What…what is all this?”
There in front of me, dozens of small lanterns trailed a path of light through the snow, like so many miniature stars calling for me to follow.
It was gorgeous. Absolutely gorgeous. It felt like a scene from a romance, with the hero about to declare his love to his lady and—I stopped, heart suddenly racing. I didn’t dare let my imagination grab hold of me for fear of a new disappointment.
I stepped into the path of light. After a few hundred meters, a familiar silhouette began to stand out in the lanterns’ soft glow. My heartbeat quickened.
A few more steps and I thought my heart would burst when I realized where the path led to.
It was the old wall. Our wall. The place where Éric had kissed me for the first time. Where I had fallen for him, once and for all, without hope for redemption.
Too emotional for words, I kept walking, my eyes on the shadow of his face as he waited at the end of my path. Then, when I was only a few steps away, I halted.
“Éric.”
He moved forward.
“Hey, princess.”
I stared at him, unable to believe my eyes.
“You—didn’t go back to Africa.”
“I changed my mind.”
There. Four words, four little words and hope bloomed again, waking a storm of butterflies inside my stomach.
I remained silent. Éric drew closer, his gaze on mine, hesitant.
“Alex, I—”
He broke off, glanced away, ran a nervous hand through his hair. Then his eyes returned to me, more intense and determined, and he steeled himself.
“You asked me something the other day, remember? You asked me what I wanted from you.”
I nodded gently. “You said you didn’t want anything,” I reminded him. “That it was too late.”
It had hurt.
He tilted his head in agreement.
“Ask me again, please. I want to—change my answer.”
My stomach twisted wildly, but I obeyed.
“What do you want from me, Éric?” I whispered, my eyes glued to his.
His face grew serious, solemn.
“Everything, Alex. I want everything from you. I want your smile, your light, your humor. I want your heart. I want you, all of you.”
Whoa…
“Are you…are you serious?”
“More than I have ever been before.”
Without warning, tears rose to my eyes. I blinked, suddenly short of breath. Éric came quietly closer, cupped my face between his hands and stared into my eyes. In my chest, my heart began to swell and swell until it seemed nothing could hold it anymore.
“I wanted to hate you, Alex,” he murmured, his voice heavy with emotion. “I really wanted to. But I couldn’t. I had fallen in love with you, for all the reasons that had made me keep my distance at first: your light, your view of the world, as though through rose-tinted glasses, your heart as big as this planet. After the costume ball I fought not to feel anything, to forget about you. I left, because I didn’t think I’d survive if I stayed in Chandeniers. I thought I had managed to forget you. I was so convinced of it that I returned here, to prove to myself that I had succeeded. But I didn’t forget about you. Not for a minute, not for a second. You are carved into my heart and I can’t tear you away. I—I don’t want to. I want you to stay there. And I—I want to be in yours.”
He broke off, his gaze searching mine for something.
“Alex…I know I’m horribly bad tempered and I’ve made you suffer, but I—I love you. And I hope it’s not too late. Would you give me another chance?”
“You love me? Even now?”
“I don’t love you ‘even now,’ Alex, I love you ‘even more.’”
Oh my God.
A storm of emotion had overtaken my body. Once more, tears rose to my eyes.
“Does this—does this mean you forgive me?” I pressed anxiously.
He nodded.
“I do. Alex, I—”
I couldn’t help myself. I flung my arms around his neck before he could finish and kissed him breathlessly.
Relief crashed over me, filled my heart, my body, each of my cells, pushing me toward him, searching his lips for the truth of what he had just voiced.
He loved me.
He had forgiven me.
He wanted me in his life.
Tears of joy streamed down my cheeks, and I clutched him tightly, determined to never let him leave me again.
I felt Éric’s lips smile against mine and answer my kiss with equal passion and fervor. His arms closed around me, lifting me from the ground up against his chest as though he wanted to soak me in. Then he set me down again and framed my face with his hands. Our kiss turned tender, soft, as we rediscovered each other. His tongue caressed mine, sweet and heady, and I buried my hands gently into his hair.
It seemed to me the world held its breath. That the universe had paused around us, and watched as our two hearts beat as one once more.
I don’t know how long we stayed like that, kissing, relearning each other. Finally Éric drew back and laid his forehead against mine, chuckling lightly.
“Sorry,” I br
eathed. “Couldn’t help myself.”
“I’m not complaining, princess. On the contrary.”
“I really thought I’d lost you, you know,” I murmured.
“I was just stupid and stubborn. But that’s over. I don’t want to make myself hate you. It’s too hard.”
“I’m truly sorry about hurting you, Éric. I didn’t want—”
“I know.”
“Please tell me again that you forgive me. Please.”
He pulled away and gently took hold of my face. Our eyes met.
“Alex, I love you. So yes, I forgive you.”
“Promise me you’ll never leave me again.”
“I promise.”
I knew it wouldn’t be as simple as that. His job would take him away often. But I also knew what his promise meant. Even if he left for the other side of the world, he would always come back to me. The time for running was past, for both of us. We had needed several months to get there, but at last we were on the same page of our story.
“I love you,” I told him, standing on tiptoe to kiss his lips again.
He smiled and held me tight. I nestled my head in the crook of his neck and sighed.
After so many false starts, so many lost chances, our story could begin at last.
Maybe Bea had been right. Maybe it had been no coincidence that I had been the one to find Gabrielle’s picture. Maybe it had been my destiny to track hers and follow it to the threshold of happiness where I now stood.
Epilogue
Éric
Chandeniers-sur-Vienne
Two years later
I wake up alone in a cold bed.
I usually hate the feeling of empty sheets, the lack of her. I hate it when she isn’t by my side.
But today I don’t mind. I know it’s for a good cause. Smiling, I get up to brew some coffee. Max doesn’t even twitch as I walk by his basket.
As I wait for my coffee, I grab my cell and just stare at the image on my screen. It’s a picture of Alex, taken surreptitiously last summer as she was drawing at sunrise. Out of all my pictures of her, this one is my favorite. Her hair is up in a messy bun held by a pencil stabbed through the twist, barely keeping the blond locks from falling all over the place but just enough to clear the nape of her neck, the graceful curve of which I cannot help but want to kiss in that sensitive place, just behind her ear. In the morning light, the sun casts a halo around her face. There is an absorbed, absent, dreamy look about her, and she has that half smile that always appears when she is drawing and becomes utterly oblivious to the outside world.
