by Tara Hart
“This is it.” He held out his hand for the fare that I’d almost forgotten to pay. I dug around in my purse and pulled out a crumpled note.
My hand clasped the door handle as I took a deep steadying breath. “I wish I knew where he was,” I muttered to myself.
“Who?” the driver responded instantly.
“That’s just it, I don’t know his name. Apparently, he’s known as ‘The Artist.’”
Without warning, he turned the key in the ignition and flattened his foot on the exhilarator.
“Well, why didn’t you say that?” He smiled for the first time all day.
I shuffled my ass forward, hugging the passenger seat in front of me. “You know who he is?”
“But of course,” he said with a shrug. “Everyone knows The Artist.”
Chapter 8
I jumped out of the car and made my way down the uneven cobblestoned path.
There were countless steps that lead up to the small brown brick restaurant that sat on top of a grassy green hill. I walked slowly, brushing my hair behind my ears as the gentle breeze blew it in every which direction.
I remember thinking to myself that what I was doing was crazy. This stuff was straight from the scenes of an eighties romance movie, but I couldn’t stop myself.
I felt this undying need to see him again and that’s all I could comprehend. That and the air that smelled of fresh cut grass and lemon rind.
Find me in the restaurant on the hill, he told me. I don’t know why he spoke in riddles. Maybe that was part of his charm. If this was a game, he was winning because I was sucked into the whirlwind journey of searching for him without knowing a single thing about him.
I reached the top of the summit and looked back to where I came from. It was a long way down and the green hills seemed to go on forever. Houses were few and far between.
It’s as if I was in a different world. A world where money and luxury didn’t exist. The only things that mattered were fine wine and good company. In that order too.
The restaurant appeared to be closed, but as I walked along to the glass pane windows, I realized there was a couple dining inside next to the window. They were chatting casually, taking no notice of me. I walked inside and approached the bar. I didn’t know what I was going to say and who I was going to ask for. I guess I was hoping they would see how lost I appeared and take pity on me.
The waitress looked at me, her expression ice-cold as she gave me the once over.
“Yes?” she questioned, sensing instantly that I was foreign to her cozy little town.
“I’m looking for someone.” My eyes traveled around the restaurant, hoping I’d see his smiling face greet me. He wasn’t there.
This was a bad idea, coming to this town in search of him. He sent me on a wild goose chase and I fell for it.
“I’m—I’m...” I stopped myself.
I was about to turn around and leave, giving up on—whatever this was that I was chasing when I heard his voice.
“American girl?”
I smiled instantly as my heart rate increased tenfold. I closed my eyes and then opened them again. I couldn’t wait to see him. I couldn’t wait to drink him in.
He went and stood next to the waitress. She looked annoyed that he knew me and even more annoyed that he seemed happy to see me.
He wore a crumpled white dress shirt, the top buttons undone, revealing his necklace and a peek of chest hair. His faded jeans had holes in the knees. I couldn’t decide if it was intentional or time had gotten the better of them.
“How are you?”
He stepped forward and kissed each of my cheeks. It took my breath away.
“I’m—I’m here,” I said finally.
He chuckled lightly. “I see that.”
Little Miss Attitude rolled her eyes at our exchange. I gathered she didn’t like Americans. Either that or she was jealous. Either way, the waitress had it out for me from the start.
“Come with me.” He reached for my hand and then retreated. I met him halfway, taking his fingers in mine and clasping our hands together. He suppressed a smile as he led me through a small brick archway into another room.
There was a large wooden easel set up in the corner. It looked as though it were one hundred years old, the wood peeling away, held together by smudges of paint. The ground was littered with an array of brushes that sat in dirty coffee jars.
I looked at the pallet that was covered in paint swatches and smirked to myself. I thought we were about to have our own Jack and Rose moment and then he pointed to the canvas.
“Take a look.”
I strolled to the other side of the canvas and immediately drew in a breath.
I wasn’t one for art or galleries, that was more of Savannah’s thing, but when I saw the painting, it absolutely took my breath away.
The painting was beautiful and then I realized who it was of. It was a painting of the couple seated at the front of the restaurant, the French couple that didn’t blink twice when I walked past. He captured the moment perfectly. I could see their personalities shining through with the backdrop painted down to the fine details. It was as if I was looking at an actual photograph and not a painting.
I reached for his hand and squeezed it tight.
“It’s beautiful,” I said, shaking my head as if I couldn’t believe it. “Just beautiful.”
He smiled genuinely. “Thank you.”
He let go of my hand. I hadn’t realized I was still grasping it, almost too afraid to let go as if I might lose him in the scenery.
“You painted this for them?” I asked, my gaze traveling back to the couple where they remained sipping on their red wine.
“This is part of the restaurant’s charm,” he explained. “People come here to drink good wine and when they leave, they receive this painting to remember the occasion for the rest of their lives.”
His steel grey eyes shone as he talked. I’d never seen such passion in my life, but he had it, he had it in spades.
“It really is beautiful.” I felt lame, but I couldn’t express how impressed I was in any other way, or with any other words. He had taken my breath away with a painting and now I knew the reason Savannah felt the way she did about art. It had the ability to evoke emotions that I never knew existed.
He grabbed the canvas in his hands. “I’ll give this painting to them and then we will walk.”
I loved how he spoke. How he told me exactly what he had planned for me. There were no questions, he always took the lead.
I hugged my arms across my front as I watched him present the painting to the couple. They gushed over it, comparing their likeness to the painting, obviously impressed by his work.
He graciously accepted their compliments and then his eyes were fixed on me.
He walked in my direction, his gaze not once leaving my face. His attention was set on me and I wish he could look at me with that same hunger for the rest of my days.
“Now we will go outside,” he said, taking his black blazer from a nearby chair. He hung it over his shoulder as he took my hand and walked me outside.
He showed me to a small patio area. I went to pull out a chair at one of the tables, but he tugged on my arm as he clicked his tongue.
“Not here.”
He pulled me down the steep hill to a grassed area that was surrounded by tall but carefully manicured rose bushes. He laid his jacket on the grass and held his hands out as if presenting it to me.
“Sit.”
The grassy knoll looked over the town, the beauty not wasted on me for a second.
“It’s beautiful.” There was that word again.
His gaze traveled to my face, his eyes locking with mine. “It really is,” he said without looking away.
I blushed because how could I not? Every time he complimented me it took me back to the day when we first met. It was that same feeling in the pit of my stomach. After all these years, he still made me feel just as desired as that day.
We
sat on top of his soft jacket, leaving a small gap between our bodies, intentionally so. It was as if there was a physical barrier that neither of us could cross. We couldn’t venture into one another’s space because there may be no turning back.
We both took in the view, the sun moving into the horizon as the day started to vanish before my eyes.
In just a few hours it would be dark and I would be heading back to Paris. Alone.
I caught him glancing at me out of the corner of my eye. It caused my lip to twitch up at the side. He smiled too, causing my heart to skip a beat.
“What are you smiling at?” My voice was low and husky as I tried to keep my tone even.
“I’m smiling at you,” he said eventually. “I didn’t think you were coming.”
I returned his smile. “You didn’t make it easy for me to find you.”
He leaned back, his elbows resting on the grass behind us.
“I know,” he breathed. “I didn’t want to make it easy. How would I know that you really wanted to see me again?”
I raised my eyebrows.
“Now I know because you’re sitting right here next to me.”
“This isn’t a game to me,” I said, my lips turning into a frown.
I was done playing games and I needed him to know that was the truth.
His face changed at that moment, his expression hardening like stone. “It’s not a game for me either.”
He looked out to the valley before us, taking in a deep breath and then letting it go. “You are married,” he said as if it were the final thing he’d ever say to me.
I turned to look at him. His gaze traveled to my hand, his face changing when he noticed my wedding rings were missing.
I never took my rings off. Ever. And I kept feeling the soft flesh with the pad of my thumb. I felt naked without them, but I didn’t want the reality that came with wearing them. I didn’t want to be Jared’s. Not today.
“You can take the ring off, but I know it was there. I can see the indent on your finger and the way you keep touching the place where it should be.”
My cheeks flushed. He was right. I took the rings off as if it were allowing me to be single for the day, but I wasn’t single. I hadn’t been single for some time and I wasn’t fooling anyone.
I stood. No matter how beautiful the view and how delectable he was, I wasn’t supposed to be here. He sat upright, his gaze following me as I walked to the end of the hill. My feet stopped just inches from the edge where there was a steep slope to the bottom of the mountain, nothing but a flimsy rope was between me and a free fall into the deep abyss of the French countryside. I felt for the rope with my fingertips, hoping it would steady me as I caught my breath.
I could sense him behind me. Perhaps it was his smell or the gentle rhythm of his breathing, but I knew he was there. He gently touched my elbow, his fingers wrapping around my arm softly.
“I shouldn’t be here,” I whispered without looking at him.
He exhaled through his nose. The tension was obvious. I was complicated and he didn’t need that in his life.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he echoed my thoughts, but they weren’t the words I wanted to hear. I wanted him to pull me into his arms and tell me I could never leave his side.
I spun around to look at him. His steel grey eyes twinkled in the sunshine. His gaze was locked on me. I had his full and undying attention and I should have poured my heart out to him. I should have told him all of the dreams I’d had over ten years of restless nights. But I froze up like an igloo.
Tears began to surface, but I blinked them away. I wouldn’t cry for something that was a figment of my imagination.
“I must leave now.” My shoulder brushed against his arm as I rushed past.
“Let me order you a driver,” he said from behind me. “He can drive you wherever you need to go. He will drive you to Paris if you wish.”
I nodded my head. I appreciated the gesture because, without his offer, I had no idea how I would escape this Godforsaken town. It was beautiful upon arrival, but it had turned into a miserable afternoon that I couldn’t wait to be done with.
All it took was one mention of my wedding ring to turn things sour. It was a reminder of where my heart should lie. I was caught up in the moment of lust and need. A crush that I’d held onto for dear life without good reason.
I’d built this moment up in my mind, but it wasn’t meant to be—he wasn’t meant to be.
He waited with me until the cab arrived. He offered me money for the ride, which I politely declined. I didn’t need his charity, although this trip had been a complete waste of time.
“I need to get to the helipad in Reims,” I told him.
He gave the driver directions in French and then opened the back door for me. I spun around to look at him. I held my composure like a pro because I was so used to suppressing my emotions by now.
“Goodbye,” I said weakly.
He leaned forward, placing a gentle kiss on my cheek. His chin brushed against my flesh as he pulled away, his stubble tickling my skin.
“Goodbye, my American beauty.”
I pulled away slowly, my lips trembling as I spoke. “I don’t even know your name,” I said, seemingly as an afterthought.
He held out his hand. “I’m Theo.” He smiled, revealing his slightly crooked teeth.
“Theo,” I whispered. I took his hand loosely in mine. I didn’t want to become too attached. “I’m Selina.”
His smile went wider as his eyes wrinkled at the sides. “To me, you will always be my American girl.”
I ducked inside the car and allowed myself one final glance at his face.
The driver sped off before the door had even closed. Theo remained on the side of the dirt road waving. I pretended I didn’t see him. I fixed my gaze straight ahead while I tried to quash the feeling deep inside. If I focused hard, I could hear my heart breaking into a million little pieces as the man I once thought I would marry drifted off into the distance.
Chapter 9
“Five minutes.” The pilot turned to look at me.
“What?” My attention was focused out the window as I watched the sun setting in the distance. The mix of green and orange with the glow from the sun made the scenery one of the most beautiful sights I’d ever seen, and yet, I couldn’t appreciate it.
“We leave in five minutes,” he repeated.
I nodded my head as my gaze remained focused out of the window. I couldn’t wait to get back to my hotel and go to bed. I would shower first, washing the stench of this day from my skin. If I inhaled sharply, I could still smell him on my clothes. I would bin the damn green dress as soon as I took it off.
“We’re leaving now,” the pilot said. “Buckle up.”
I did as I was told, feeling the breeze pick up as the blades spun through the air. He moved over and closed the door, the hatch slamming closed, signaling we were ready to leave.
I leaned against the window, the glass cooling my skin instantly. I closed my eyes and braced myself for takeoff.
I listened to the blades whipping through the air as the cab began to vibrate. Just when I thought we were in the airborne, the vibrations stopped and the blades slowed.
“What is it?” I leaned forward in my seat to get a better idea of what was happening.
He shouted something at me that I couldn’t understand through his thick accent and the oversized headphones. I ripped them from my ears, throwing them to the seat beside me. “Why have we stopped moving?”
He looked at my face and then back out the window. He pointed into the distance, my gaze following his finger until I saw what the holdup was.
It was Theo, standing on the landing pad, his arms stretched wide as he waited for the pilot to abort the takeoff.
I reached for the door, but it was too heavy to open myself. The pilot moved to help me, pulling the door open and allowing me to step outside.
He looked frazzled and lost.
His
cheeks were burning red as he struggled to catch his breath.
“What are you doing?” I shouted. “Are you crazy? You could have gotten yourself killed.”
He closed the last two steps between us. His face softening as he enveloped me in his arms.
“I couldn’t let you go again,” he said. “I couldn’t watch you walk out of my life without spending one last moment with you.”
He kissed the crown of my head and I instantly relaxed in his arms. My face nuzzled tightly against his chest as I listened to the pounding of his heart. I never wanted someone to take a chance on me more than at that moment. This was a noble gesture—his gesture—and it took my breath away.
“Tell me something,” he started.
He could have asked me anything at that moment and I would have told him the truth. His penetrating gaze demanded my honesty.
“Tell me why you came here to find me today?”
I swallowed back the lump in my throat, as I averted my gaze. “Because I never stopped thinking of you.”
His unshaved face turned up into a grin. He dipped his head and kissed my lips lightly.
It had never been so easy to tell the truth. It came from my mouth with little effort. This is what it felt like to tell the truth.
I heard someone speak behind me, but I didn’t care to listen. I was too wrapped up in the moment—too wrapped up in him.
He leaned back to look at me. “The pilot wants to know if you’re going with him,” he looked down at me. “Are you?” He seemed afraid of my answer as if I’d choose Paris over him.
I leaned back so I could see his beautiful face. “I’m not going anywhere.”
He smiled, his teeth peeking through his lips.
He signaled for the pilot to leave as he grabbed my hand and led me in the opposite direction. His hand felt clammy against mine as if he were nervous. I looked up at him, my face full of wonder.
“Where are we going?”
He pressed his lips together as the wind from the chopper finally started to die down. “My friend will drive us back to Pierry.”
We rushed over the grassy hill and to the waiting blue car that sat in front of the taxi rank. He held onto my hand tight and it felt right—it felt like I was finally home.