Love Redesigned

  She pulled away from him and stood up. Already the miles separated them.

  “But . . . you live here. You don’t get to America very often, do you? Much less Atlanta. What are you talking about?”

  He stood up and faced her. “I will fly there to see you.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t think it’s a good idea. I told you, you need to find someone who can give you what you want, give you the children you want.”

  His future crumbled faster than ever. He swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Genevieve, please—” He shoved his hands in his pockets to keep from tossing her over his shoulder and carting her home.

  The door opened, and Daniel stepped out on the terrace.

  “There you are, Sugar. I didn’t know where you’d disappeared to. You should be back inside. People are raving about the wedding cake, and want to meet the cake designer.” He looked from one to the other. “Am I interrupting something?”

  Roman glanced at her. “You are not interrupting. I was just leaving.” He strode toward the stone staircase leading to the garden. But as he headed down the steps, he thought he heard Genevieve mutter “Dammit.”

  He had been willing to fly to see her frequently, to pay for her ticket to see him in France when she could. Obviously she wanted nothing to do with him, but was trying to let him down easily. He scoffed. So much for easy.

  Once again, she’d broken his heart. This time he didn’t think he could pick up the pieces. He suddenly wanted nothing more than to reach his new home. He would start his new life as a hermit that very evening.

  Genevieve took a step, wanting to chase after him, but faltered to a stop. Roman disappeared down the garden steps. The old gate clanged as it slammed closed. Her hand closed over the charm bracelet. She fingered the heart charm, felt her own breaking.

  “What’s going on?” Daniel asked.

  “My loan got approved.”

  Daniel whooped and picked her up, turning her in a circle. He set her down, then looked at her. “You don’t seem too excited. Why aren’t you celebrating?”

  “I was, then Roman came outside. When I told him, things got weird again. He said he understands my life is in Atlanta, and he would come visit me. He doesn’t want this to be goodbye.”

  “Well that’s good, isn’t it?”

  “Long distance relationships are hard enough, but we live in two different countries. Besides, he wants a family, children. I can’t give him what he wants.” An ugly ache spread through her, and she sank back onto the bench. The thought of him marrying someone else, having children with another woman—it was too much.

  Daniel nudged her.

  Startled, she looked up at him. “What?”

  “I said, maybe he would consider moving to the States.”

  “No, it wouldn’t work. His life is here. His business. Besides, I’m going to be way too busy getting my own business off the ground, and up and running. I won’t have time to see him.”

  “That’s right! Now come on, we need to celebrate. Let’s go get some cake and another glass and get this party started.”

  He started to walk toward the terrace doors, but she stopped him. “Am I stubborn?”

  He turned back and looked at her. “Yes.”

  “Well that was blunt.”

  He shrugged. “You asked, I answered. What brought it up?”

  “I was trying to open the bottle of champagne, but the cork wouldn’t come out. He offered to do it, but I . . .”

  “Let me guess. You insisted you could do it yourself, and he got mad.”

  She nodded.

  “You do it all the time. I think I’ve just gotten so used to you refusing help for anything I stopped offering.”

  She frowned. “Am I as bad as that?”

  “You’re so determined not to rely on anyone but yourself, and you rebuff any offer of help. You’re an independent woman, and very strong. You’ve had to be. And after being your best friend for a million years, I know it’s because of your mom.”

  It had never occurred to her by trying to be independent and rely on no one, she was refusing even minor offers of help.

  “You’ve just been handed the key to your dream, Sugar. Why aren’t you happier?”

  She pasted a smile on her face. “I am happy! Let’s go party.”

  Chapter 18

  Genevieve rolled over yet again, stared at the digital clock. Five measly minutes since the last time she looked at it. She huffed out an exasperated breath. She was exhausted from spending all day on her feet preparing the wedding cake, then getting through the wedding. But it was her best work, and Connie Sue was married, so why wasn’t she asleep?

  Roman had withdrawn after she told him she’d been approved for the bank loan. He wasn’t happy, and a kaleidoscope of expressions had crossed his face: anger, anguish, sadness.

  She yawned, desperate for the oblivion sleep would bring.

  Counting sheep didn’t work, they just stood around. So she tried mentally walking through the steps of making and rolling fondant onto an elaborate cake.

  The cake fell flat.

  She flipped over again, stared at the moon peeking through the tree outside her window. Something scratched at her door. The twins’ puppy?

  She started to get out of bed, but the door creaked opened. The moon cast just enough light through the window for her to see it was Roman. He walked toward her, pulling his shirt off over his head.

  “What—”

  He leaned over her, kissing her into silence.

  She sighed as his mouth caressed hers. His lips were cold, but quickly warming up.

  He pulled away long enough to toe his shoes off, shed his jeans.

  She scooted to one side of the bed and pulled the covers back, inviting him in.

  He slid into bed, pulling her close. Their lips met again, frantic, and she opened for him. His tongue met hers, dancing with it. She could almost taste his desperation, and it echoed hers.

  He flicked the buttons open on her nightshirt, pushed the sides apart. He cupped her breast, and his mouth abruptly left hers to capture her nipple. He sucked it deep, swirling his tongue around until it pebbled.

  Fire streaked through her and she gasped, arching toward him. Liquid heat gathered in her core.

  He lifted his head, blew lightly on her moistened nipple.

  The cool air made her shiver in need.

  He switched sides, licking and sucking, rolling the other between his nimble fingers.

  Her blood ran hot, and she was surprised she didn’t combust. She cupped his head, threading her fingers through his hair, holding him to her breast.

  I love him. I never stopped.

  She raised her head, gently pulled him up to meet her for a scorching kiss over her heart. A heart that was breaking. She poured all her love into the kiss, wanted him to know she loved him still, but couldn’t find the words to tell him.

  His hands stroked her skin, trailing from breast to hip, hip to thigh. He nudged her legs apart, and cupped her. One finger dipped into her moist heat, then danced over her clit.

  She moaned, and he drank it in, muffling the sound.

  He followed his fingers, kissing her stomach, her hip, her thigh. Spreading her legs farther apart, he pressed a kiss at the apex, teased her with his tongue and fingers.

  She fisted her hands in the sheets. He was killing her. But what a way to go.

  Her hips bucked as his tongue worked magic on her. Tingles raced from her toes up her legs. Every fiber of her being focused on his mouth, and what he was doing to her.

  He shifted his hands beneath her, held her hips still until she thought she would go mad.

  She reached down and grabbed his hair, trying to pull him up. She neede
d him inside her. Now.

  He refused to give way, his tongue relentless in pursuit of her satisfaction. He released a hip, slipped a finger inside her, then two, filling her.

  She clenched around his fingers, her body bowed as the tremors turned to quakes. Wave after wave of pleasure swept over her, and she tried to catch her breath.

  He raised his head, glided over her, pushed inside, hard and deep. He filled her where she ached the most, and her pleasure spiked out of control.

  She wrapped her legs around him, letting him in deeper, met every thrust. Her fingers clenched on his backside, pressing him tightly to her.

  She opened her eyes.

  He stared at her in the faint moonlight, and a tear trickled down his cheek.

  Her heart aching, she pulled him down into a kiss.

  His lips were oh, so gentle, even as he thrust in and out, wringing every drop of ecstasy from her.

  He stiffened over her, his breath caught, and he climaxed so hard she could feel his release. Intense pleasure coiled sharply in her womb, then exploded. She gasped out his name, and followed him over the cliff. Tingles spread to every nerve ending, even as he collapsed on her, breathing hard.

  She soothed her hands down his back, held him still when he shifted to roll off her. Sleep claimed her. Finally.

  She opened her eyes as faint rays of dawn slipped through the window. She stretched, luxuriating in her relaxed state. Why do I feel so rested? Then she remembered, and smiled. She turned her head on the pillow to wake Roman, but the other side was empty and cold.

  Lonely, she lay still, and remembered she’d woken at four to feel his fingers moving over her softly, arousing and teasing her awake. He lay behind her as they spooned, one hand wrapped around a breast, the other working her into a delirium. His raging erection pressed against her bottom.

  He had lifted her leg, pulled it back over his, slid into her from behind. He held her close, controlling her movements so all she could do was feel him. He whispered in her ear, French words she didn’t understand. He could have been reciting his grocery list. But in French, it sounded delicious, romantic, and very hot.

  She’d fallen back asleep at some point after they made love. He must have left not long afterward.

  Remembering every touch, every move, she realized for all the passion they had shared, in the past and now, he’d never been so gentle and tender. A tear rolled down her cheek as she understood.

  He’d been saying goodbye.

  Chapter 19

  In a flurry of goodbyes, Connie Sue pulled her aside and hugged her. Genevieve’s breath hitched. She wouldn’t cry. Not now. Not until she was alone at home.

  Home. Why did she suddenly not want to go home to her apartment, her retreat?

  “Thank you so much for coming to France for my wedding, and making the cakes, and standing up with me. It meant so much to me you came all this way for me. I’m really sorry things didn’t turn out better between you and Roman.” Connie Sue clutched her tighter.

  “You’re my favorite cousin. Of course I came for you,” she quipped, hoping to stem the tears gathering in her cousin’s eyes, and clogging her own throat. She held on, loathe to let go. “I’m going to miss you, Cuz.”

  Connie Sue sniffed. “I’m going to miss you too. You know you’re welcome here anytime, right? Francois extended the invitation as well.” She pulled back slightly and looked into Genevieve’s eyes. “And I know damn good and well Roman wants you here.”

  She stepped away from Connie Sue. “It’s going to take me awhile to get the business open, so I don’t know when I could get away. You can always visit me, you know. I’m sure the twins would love Stone Mountain.”

  “I wish I could drive to the airport in Paris with you and Daniel.”

  “Don’t be silly! You’re on your honeymoon now.” She pulled Connie Sue close for another fierce hug. “I love you, Cuz. You take care, and make sure Francois takes care of you. Or I will have to fly back here and kick some sense into him.”

  Francois stepped up to them and put an arm around Connie Sue’s shoulders, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Do not worry. I will take good care of my wife.”

  Yes, she was in good hands. Genevieve wished she could have what they had. You could, you moron. She shoved the wayward thought away.

  She and Daniel grabbed their luggage and put it in the rental car, then began the long drive to Paris and their flight home. He flipped the radio on and guided the car smoothly down the long driveway.

  She turned around and looked out the back window.

  Connie Sue and her new family stood on the chateau steps, waving.

  Swallowing past a lump at the sight, she waved back, then settled in to her seat, relieved the radio was on so they didn’t have to talk.

  The airport was crowded, and they finally made it through Security. They settled into seats at the gate, but a few minutes later an announcement came over the loudspeaker. “Genevieve Haywood, please report to the Gate attendant.”

  Daniel nudged her, and she got up and walked quickly to the counter. I hope nothing’s wrong at the chateau. Then she shook her head. Connie Sue would have called her mobile phone.

  “I’m Genevieve Haywood,” she told the gate attendant.

  The woman handed her a large envelope. “This was brought to the airport for you, Mademoiselle. The sender could not deliver to you as he is not a ticketed passenger.”

  Curious, Genevieve thanked her, then headed back to her seat.

  “What is it?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know.” She looked at the handwriting on the front and recognized the bold strokes. “It’s from Roman,” she said, glancing at Daniel.

  Opening the flap, she pulled out a sheaf of papers. An envelope dropped into her lap, Roman’s logo embossed on the creamy paper. She slid her finger under the flap and pulled the letter out.

  My beloved Genevieve,

  I decided this morning to give you these designs before you left, but did not realize you were leaving so soon. I understand your reasons for leaving. You are a talented artist, and I am very proud of you and what you have achieved.

  I designed this dress for you fifteen years ago. My plan was to propose when I returned from that fateful trip to Milan, but instead I found you gone. I was devastated, and did not think I would ever get over you. But upon seeing you just a few short days ago, I realized I am still in love with you. I want to marry you, to be your husband, and for you to be my wife. Yes, I want children, but I want them with you. Your cousin pointed out adoption is always an option. With you by my side, we could work things out.

  But you have a dream coming true, and I cannot, will not, stand in your way. I hope you will keep these designs as a symbol of my love and devotion for you. Should your heart change, I would be honored to make this dress for you, or design a new one to your liking. And to spend the rest of my life cherishing you.

  Je t'aime, et je t'aimerai toujours,

  Roman

  She reread the closing sentiment, and translated it in her rusty French, murmuring aloud. “I love you, and always will.”

  Unfolding the sheaf of papers, she noticed they were sketches of a wedding dress. The pages had faded to cream, and crinkled with age. The dress design was stunning, flawless. Each page showed a different angle of the dress, and details noted in Roman’s precise handwriting lined the sides of the paper. The style suited her perfectly, and was exactly what she would have chosen if she were ever to contemplate marriage.

  He knew her. This design showed her how much he’d known her likes and dislikes, even so long ago. He knew her heart.

  “That’s a lovely dress. What’s it for?”

  She raised her head. Tears blurred her vision.

  “He was going to propose to me fiftee
n years ago, and designed this for me. He said if I ever changed my mind, he would make it for me.”

  “Sounds like he still loves you. Still wants to marry you.”

  “That’s what his letter says.”

  Daniel put his arm around her and hugged her close. “How do you feel?”

  “I love him,” she blurted out. The words scared her to death, and she couldn’t believe she had said them aloud. “I love him so much.”

  “Then what are we doing here?”

  The fear was enough to strangle her. “I’m scared. He has such a strong personality . . . what if I end up like my mother, living in his shadow, never having a life of my own?”

  “Honey, I’ve known you for a long time, and I don’t think it will ever happen. You’re too strong in your own right. You won’t let it happen, and from what I’ve seen of him, he wouldn’t either. He wants to make you happy. That’s what he was doing when he wanted to buy the building for you in the village. He’s putting you and your dreams first.”

  She stared at him, his words filling her with hope.

  “I didn’t know your mother very well, but did you ever consider she was content having her own little family? From what you’ve told me of her, and the pictures I’ve seen of her, I think she put you and your dad first because it’s what she wanted to do.”