When we were finished, he said, “Do you want to take a walk?”
“It’s pretty cold outside…” I looked out the window and saw the frost in the corners.
“We can get some coffee on the way.”
“Can we walk to the tower?”
He smiled as he got to his feet and cleared the plates. “I was hoping you would say that.”
He went upstairs to retrieve something, and when he came downstairs, he was holding his hardback copy of The Count of Monte Cristo. It was the French edition, so different from mine. Instead of leaving it on the counter, he brought it with us.
“You’re gonna carry that heavy book the whole time?”
“I just finished it. But we could talk about it.”
It had taken him forever to finish that book. It was massive, at least nine hundred pages, but I read much quicker than he did. It was one of my favorite books, so I didn’t mind having a conversation about it. “Sure.”
We left the apartment, got a couple coffees, and walked together down the sidewalk, discussing his favorite parts of the book. He would open it sometimes to find a favorite quote and read it to me.
He was already so sexy, but a man who read was even sexier.
We reached the grounds of the tower and walked together, our coffees almost finished because we’d drunk them too fast to stay warm.
“What was your favorite part and why?”
He looked ahead as he considered the question, the book at his side. “How determined he was to escape. He was fueled by vengeance rather than desire, but it still gave him the extraordinary ability to be patient and determined. Reminded me of you.”
I smiled as I looked up at the lights of the tower, remembering the way we met and treasuring the way we fell in love. It was a story no one else would ever have.
He moved to a garbage can and threw away his coffee. “Are you done with it?”
I took a final drink until it was empty and handed it over.
He tossed it inside and kept walking.
“Now how will I stay warm?” My hands moved into the pockets of my jacket.
His arm went around my waist, and he held me close as we walked. “Like this.”
My arm hooked around his waist, and I smiled up at him as we approached the base of the tower. And we stood there together, our warm breaths escaping as vapor into the dry air. We stood there together for a long time, just enjoying the moment.
I’d wanted my freedom so much, but the freedom with him was so much better than my solitude. He was the other half of my soul, the only person in the world who truly understood what I’d been through, the only person who really saw me. “I love you.” We weren’t one of those couples that said those words every time we parted, every time we went to sleep. We said it very rarely, but in those isolated moments, those words had more meaning.
He looked down at me but didn’t say it back. But he didn’t need to.
He dropped his arm from my waist and held out the book.
The trees around us were wrapped in white lights, and the cold kept other pedestrians away. We were the only people there, in the most romantic city in the world. It was like it belonged to just us.
I took the book from him and lifted my eyes to his face.
“I want you to have it.”
My eyes softened.
“I know I saved you. But you saved me too.”
My hand squeezed the book before I looked down at it, seeing the words in French that I could mostly translate. The story had been a beacon of hope in that small cabin, had been my guiding light in the dark. It meant the world to me.
I opened the book and saw the words in French. But as I flipped the pages and moved to the middle of the book, the weight felt different. It was much lighter, like the pages didn’t carry the same weight.
I continued to flip until I noticed the square hole cut into the second half of the book.
There was a box fitted inside, the lid removed.
And in the center was a ring.
I hadn’t experienced a jolt of adrenaline like that in a long time. My breathing went immediately haywire, like I was about to run. My pulse raced and pounded in my ears. I hadn’t expected this at all, so it really took me by surprise.
It was a single band, white gold. There were no diamonds. After giving away all his money, we didn’t have much left, let alone enough to buy a fancy diamond ring like what Melanie had.
That was what made this ring so special.
I pulled it out of the slot and closed the book. It reflected the lights from around us, reflected the emotional expression on my face. I turned the ring in my hands and saw the engraving on the inside.
Ma Petite Amie
I finally lifted my gaze and looked at him, my eyes wet and about to break like a dam.
His expression was focused and stern, but there was a special softness to his eyes, like he could feel how happy he’d just made me. He took the ring and placed it on my left ring finger, sliding over the knuckle until it fit in place. He didn’t ask me to marry him. The gesture itself made his feelings incredibly clear.
My arms wrapped around his neck, my hands still gripping the book, and I moved into him to kiss him in front of the Eiffel Tower, finding a family that I never really had. I’d never felt whole, never felt complete, and then I found this man, the hope in the dark, a man who had endured unspeakable pain for me.
He squeezed me and held me close, kissing me like he loved me, kissed me like I was the one thing he’d been waiting for. He loved me without having to say it, was the man I needed without having to ask. He was the one and only man I could spend forever with. And I knew I was the only woman who could ever make him happy.
Apart, we were both broken. But together, we were whole.
Also by Penelope Sky
It's complicated.
Am I allowed to say that?
Am I allowed to use that as an excuse to feel something toward the man that runs this place, is the reason I'm here in the first place, as well as my sister Raven?
They call him The Boss. I call him Fender.
And he calls me Beautiful.
I can tell myself I'm just using him to get what I want.
But we both know that's not true.
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