Stretching her arm across the long length of his shoulders, January knew without asking that he needed that physical connection. “I’m just starting to feel that now—that I’m not there for my parents.”
“You still have that chance,” Nigel was quick to say. “Don’t let it go.”
On the spot, she made a decision she should have made long ago. “I’m going home after this next film. To see them…”
Regardless of what happened with Nigel or Etienne, January knew it was the right thing to do. Men could wait.
“Well, I decided Paris was the best spot for me. And it was.” He twisted in her arms, but his voice remained steady—eerily calm in his delivery as if he were talking about someone else’s life. “And that first weekend…I was at a club. I had no intentions of meeting anyone for anything beyond a one-nighter. But in walked this girl…this crazy, gorgeous French girl with big blue eyes and brown hair. Her name was Charlotte. And I remember, she wore a Nirvana t-shirt, and she told me she only listened to American music. She was sarcastic and cynical. And so smart. And she got me. Right in the heart. When I took her to brunch the next day, I thought it would be the last time I’d see her.”
“But it wasn’t?” January asked.
“No.” Somehow, he managed a smile. “It wasn’t.”
January took a moment to refill his teacup, and then she pulled the thick blanket over the two of them. “Will you tell me about her? This blue-eyed French beauty?”
“Oh, don’t be jealous, January…”
“I’m not,” she said with sincerity. “What I want is to find out more about you. And if Charlotte meant something to you, then she’s important.”
“You understand me, don’t you?”.
“You understand me, too.”
Nigel closed his eyes again, perhaps dreaming of a past that was never meant to be. “We fell in love. And we fell hard. Before I knew it, more of my things were in her apartment than in my own.”
“I get that. I…well…Etienne didn’t have his own place, but I left my heart in France, and every time I had to leave, it hurt.”
“You were in love with him?” Nigel asked.
“I thought so, but now…I’m not so sure if it was love or the idea of being in love.”
“I get the feeling from what you’ve told me that you were looking for something that wasn’t necessarily there,” he observed. “I hope that doesn’t anger you.”
“You should become a shrink,” she told him. “But tell me more about Charlotte.”
Avoidance wasn’t an option for Nigel that evening. He sighed. He had to continue.
“Charlotte…” He ran his fingers over his lips. “She loved life. We were always on the move—hiking, biking, traveling. Hell, we thought we were going to climb Mont Blanc until we both got tired not long into our adventure. And right there on the mountain, I just got down on one knee and asked her to marry me.”
“You were engaged?”
“Yeah, we were…” Again, he lost himself in memories—sweet reminiscences that he still couldn’t shake from his thoughts. “And we were three months away from our wedding…”
His voice faded, and January sat very still, knowing not what to say. When Nigel stood up, she didn’t follow him, but he didn’t go far. He paced in front of the hearth.
“We loved live music, and we were always at a concert.”
Beside her, he knelt down and held her hand again. “Talk to me, Nigel. Tell me what happened.”
“Well…” The breath he pulled through his lips echoed like the whistle of winter winds, whipping at the skin through the snowy air. “Have you ever heard of a theater in Paris called the Bataclan?”
“The…the Bataclan?” Realization washed over January’s face and her eyes filled with tears of fear. She knew what happened in that concert hall.
However, he was quick to confirm her worst suspicions. “We, um…we were there…that night in November…when the terrorists struck.”
That revelation chilled January to the bone, and she froze in her spot while shock settled over her. All the while, she knew he shouldered a painful past, but she had no idea how ugly the truth could be.
Right now, though, he needed strength, and January wrapped her arms around him. “Oh, Nigel...”
Although her empathy heartened him, Nigel was determined not to cry. He’d practiced this. He’d told this story a million times. He couldn’t shed one more tear.
“We didn’t know what was happening at first. We thought it was part of the show—pyrotechnics. Sound effects. But the band left the stage, and the house lights went on. Charlotte actually saw the gunmen first.” Haunted by the reality of his own life, Nigel relayed his account of that night with remote observation, as if he’d watched from a distance. “We were close to the stage—in the mosh pit. I remember holding on to her—holding her tight—so that we wouldn’t lose each other in the chaos. It was a small venue, and pandemonium just broke loose. You just didn’t know what to do. Charlotte got down on the floor…she told me to get down…and I didn’t listen.”
Blinking the tears from her lashes, January had to hold back on her emotions for his sake. “You were in shock.”
“I should have listened,” he repeated himself. “Before I knew it…they came closer…the gunmen…the…terrorists…” Nigel spat the word that filled him with disgust and shook his head. He still clung to a sense of disbelief.
Panic seeded deep within her chest. “Please, Nigel, you don’t have to continue. It’s alright. You don’t have—”
“I have to tell you,” he shouted. “I have to tell you—for me…”
Even though he couldn’t admit to craving comfort, Nigel buried his head against her stomach, wincing with the wrenching pain that gutted him. He had to just get the words out and get it over with.
“Bedlam didn’t even describe it. It was grisly. You had no real sense of where the shots were coming from. People were just clamoring to get out. They were literally stepping over and tripping on Charlotte, but every time I’d try to move closer, someone would just push again.” His words rolled as fast as his mind thought back. “The screams…I can still hear everyone around me—wailing, cursing, struggling voices in this unimaginable cacophony. The stench of blood and vomit was overwhelming. And those monsters—those hooded cowards who were too afraid to reveal their own faces—just kept reloading…”
Nigel had to stop again, and he covered his eyes as if he were trying to shield himself from those vivid images. One thing he’d realized in the time that had passed was that all the therapy in the world couldn’t erase the reality of post-traumatic stress. Every day, he carried with him the senseless vengeance of inconceivable evil.
“But at the same time, I couldn’t believe I was there. I felt like I was watching the most terrifying movie ever made.”
Numbness seized January. She tried to put herself there, in Nigel’s shoes, but the scene was just too gruesome for her to envision. Things like this happened to total strangers—not to people she knew. And not to men like Nigel.
“Finally, there was a clearing, and I knew I had to protect Charlotte. Just as I moved to get down beside her, I took one their bullets. They got me. I was another strike on their tally sheet.”
Anger stemmed from every word that left his lips. January held herself so very still, relegated to a place of helplessness.
“That’s what you saw last night. My bullet scar.”
She touched her hand to Nigel’s stomach where the gunmen had left their mark on him. January shuddered at the thought of a terrorist’s rage striking him, but she held out her hand, wishing she could make all those memories disappear.
Thinking back now, January and Etienne had holed up in her apartment with their eyes on the news. Circuits were so busy that her brothers had trouble reaching her. When at last she spoke to her parents, their frantic voices carried across the sea. It was the last time her father told her how much he loved her.
W
hile her heart frayed with the news, her own experience had been so trivial. She knew she’d never fully feel Nigel’s pain.
“And…there was Charlotte. And I thought…I thought they missed her. I thought she was just being still to save her own life—playing dead. And the killers just continued along, striking everyone who was still moving…”
Without warning, his tears began to fall. His entire body convulsed as he relived each second. And January refused to let him go.
“I could feel those bullets flying over my head. The blood seeped around me, and I didn’t know if it was coming from me or from someone else. All I cared about was Charlotte.”
Holding her breath, January just waited for him to continue.
“And I…I stretched out my arm…I touched her hand; gave it a squeeze…and she didn’t squeeze me back.”
Although she tried to imagine his grief, January hadn’t lost anyone close to her. She considered what it would be like to have the person she loved most gunned down right beside her. Guilt ravaged her suddenly. She wished she could say something, but she had no reference point for this level of tragedy. She couldn’t comprehend the horror of watching her entire world disappear in a few senseless seconds.
“I didn’t listen,” Nigel said and pushed himself up by his hands. He was violently angry, but January followed behind him. “I didn’t listen to her. And I could have helped her. I should have covered her with my body to protect her. I should have been the one—the one to die. Not Charlotte. But I lived…oh, why did I have to live?”
Somehow, January held on to her composure and took him in her arms again while he cried. She didn’t know how one could ever get over such a grisly rampage or get past it far enough to live life again.
“I am so sorry…”
“You have nothing to be sorry for,” she said and gripped his shoulders. “Nothing, Nigel.”
“She was…she was just gone. I couldn’t even stay with her body. They pulled me away to take me to the hospital…and I left her there. I left her on that concrete floor, soaked in blood…”
“You didn’t leave her,” she tried to convince him. “You needed medical attention. Charlotte loved you—do you think she would have wanted you to risk your own life to be there?”
“I could have covered her—I should have taken that bullet that killed her!” Pounding his fist on the nearest table, he nearly knocked over a lit candle. “I was supposed to be married. Hell, we’d probably have a child by now—or one on the way. And this is what’s become of my damn life without her.”
With another squeeze to his shoulders, she shook her head. “You survived for a reason, and you still have a life to live.” Much to her dismay, January’s throat filled with the salt from her own tears. “You can build a life again…”
His eyes focused in on a tree branch blowing in the swift wind right outside the window. “I lost that will…until…” He blinked as if to rid himself of the sadness that brought on his tears. “Until a couple of days ago when you walked into my world.”
“Oh, Nigel…” Now, there was no possible way that she could deny her emotions. She’d never been so damn hooked on a guy. Yes, he had a ton of baggage, but January came with a luggage set of her own. “Nigel, you’ve given me hope, too. And you inspire me.”
“How?” he challenged. “I live with my parents. I give horseback riding lessons to make myself feel like I’ve put in a day’s work. I walked away from my entire future that night—”
“You’re a survivor. You live every day of your life with this pain. But you get up, and you do what you have to do to make it through the day,” she insisted. “That’s the bravest story I’ve ever heard.”
Out of practice or habit, January always considered Etienne as her protector. Now, though, she realized the true core of heroism. Nigel’s survival was by far more courageous than anything Etienne had ever done.
“I’m not brave,” he bit back. “I left Paris, and I won’t ever go back. I took the easy road and helped my parents get this place off the ground. I ignored my fears, rather than facing them. How is that brave?”
“I don’t think one minute of that has been easy for you. But look at how far you’ve come since then—look at how much you’ve grown. Maybe it’s the old lady in me coming out right now, but you have your whole life ahead of you. I don’t want to see you waste it.”
“But here I am. Waiting for something to happen,” he said. “Or maybe I’m just too afraid to let it.”
Insinuation filled his words. She didn’t have to ask. January knew he harbored fears with this crazy affair between them. Crazy, though, never felt so right to her.
“Maybe we both need to release our fears,” she said gently.
Slowly, he walked her back to the couch, locked in his arms all the while. After covering them both with the blanket, he rested his chin on the top of her head and sighed pensively.
“You might not see it right now, but you will be okay,” she said. “You’re a good man, Nigel. You can’t change what happened. You won’t forget the nightmares. But I know Charlotte would expect you to move on in your own way.”
Pointing to the gardening encyclopedia she’d spotted earlier, Nigel said, “Open that book.”
“This?” January flipped the cover. In the light of the fire, a photograph of two very happy people smiled at her. She lifted the photo carefully as if it were a fragile porcelain doll. “Oh, Nigel. Is this Charlotte?”
“The day we got engaged—at the ski chalet.”
“She was so beautiful…” Charlotte was a stunning young woman with thick hair and sparkling eyes. January understood how he fell for her so quickly. Her exuberance seemed to leap right out of the photo. “And what a lovely memory.”
“It was too hard for me to keep her pictures out, so I just left that one in there,” he explained. “I take it out. And I talk to her.”
“And that’s comforting, I’m sure.”
The fire continued to crackle and burn, heightening his silence. Nigel had to force himself to gather his thoughts again before he could go on.
“I told her about you today,” he confided at last. “I told her that I wanted to tell you all about her…and I wanted her to know about you.”
Just the idea that he had to set things right with Charlotte before he could pursue her moved January to the point where she shivered against him. He needed that closure before he could think about beginning again.
Maybe she needed closure, too.
“That’s very sweet.”
Nigel finished off his cup of tea slowly, as if the next level of this conversation frightened him. “And for the first time since I lost her, I feel free.”
His tears had tapered off, and January hugged him tightly. “I know I haven’t had much to impart this evening, but I just don’t know that pain of loss.” Breaking up with Etienne was merely a day in her life. Finding and losing the essence of her heart and soul escaped her. She knew then that at that point in her life, she hadn’t yet truly fallen in love. “But I want you to know that I will listen whenever you need to talk. I’ll be here for you in whatever small way I can.”
“You already have been there for me.” His hands smoothed over her back. “Tonight, you made me realize that I can’t live in the past. And you’ve given me some hope for the future.”
January returned the photo to its rightful place, but she didn’t close the book, just in case he still needed the comfort that image brought him. “You know, I was at a crossroads with Etienne, and I had to make a decision. And you’ve given me hope, too.”
“If we’re being open right now,” he whispered, “then what happens after this week?”
In her lap, she toyed with his long fingers, stroking and squeezing them in her hesitation. It was a nervous habit, but she needed to feel that physical contact with him. “I do have a movie I’m contracted to do in Los Angeles. Filming should wrap in mid- to late-August.” She stopped for a second, and then she added, “And I�
�m going home to Kansas afterward. But I’m only a Facetime away.”
“It’s June,” he said with a touch of disappointment. “That takes us into autumn.”
“Nigel, you asked me to be honest. Right now, let’s just live.” Her words were tinged with frustration—for Nigel and for herself. At her age, January knew she was damn lucky to have the work. Younger starlets were a dime a dozen in Hollywood, and they could easily fill her role with someone else. However, just this once, she wished she could postpone this damn movie.
They’d both lost out on love. They understood each other. Maybe it was time to take a second chance.
“For the sake of full disclosure,” she began and lifted her head to look into his eyes, “Etienne called me today.”
The tightening of his jaw worried her, but January waited patiently. “And…what did he say, if I may ask?”
“He wanted to see me tonight for dinner.”
Nigel forced a chuckle. “Obviously, you’re not there.”
“I hung up on him.”
Surprised, he sat back on the couch. “Did you? Really?”
“I did.” In light of everything he’d just told her, January felt he needed to hear that she did take this seriously. Until now, she never believed in falling in love at first sight, but something about Nigel assured her that he might be around for a while. Admittedly, she’d made mistakes in communicating with Etienne. She didn’t want to keep secrets from Nigel. “And just like you—it gave me a sense of freedom.”
“Maybe there’s hope for both of us…” Nigel leaned in close, and January closed her eyes, anticipating a kiss. When it came, his lips were full of sweet affection. “Let’s believe in that.”
The conversation drained her, and she didn’t want to think beyond the days they had remaining. Nigel had every right to wonder and to question her, but January couldn’t process her sadness over the imminent reality yet.
They remained on the couch for quite a while, holding and caressing with the occasional tender kiss. Initially, she planned to give him a little lesson on Domination. Now, sex was the last thing on her mind.
After they had both dozed off for a few minutes, Nigel lifted her to carry her to the bedroom. She felt just as safe in his arms as she did the night he brought her to the stable. Although he might not admit to his own heroism, he’d already revealed the chivalrous man whose valor she found so endearing.
SMITTEN (Paris Après Minuit) Page 21