The Bad Boys of Eden

by Avery Aster

  “I thought maybe today, I would. There was a pamphlet in the room detailing today’s activities. Did you know there is a sunken ship somewhere close by?” Lauren said.

  “Do you snorkel?” He hoped she said no.

  “I love it. You?”

  As much as he hated to admit it, he shook his head and gazed out at the water. “I can’t swim.”

  He’d only admitted that to a few people. He loved the beach, the feel of the sand beneath his feet and thoroughly enjoyed visiting the coast during the weekend with Paul and playing a round of beach volleyball. But other than playing around in the water close to the shoreline in France, he never went any farther than his chest.

  Paul knew he couldn’t swim and made fun of him on a constant basis. Only Lexi knew why.

  He expected to see pity or sadness in Lauren’s gaze but what he didn’t expect was for her to reach out and touch him. She laid her hand on his arm and squeezed.

  “Then snorkling is out of the question.”

  He smiled down at her, thankful for her understanding. That’s when it hit him, a memory from when they’d first met. She’d wanted to go to the top of the Eiffel Tower and had tried to coax him into going up with her. When he’d finally confessed his fear of heights, going to the top of the tower wasn’t a goal for her anymore. Just like that. No pouting, no guilt trips. Just acceptance.

  Even then she’d been an angel.

  They rounded a corner and came upon what looked like a beach cafe, complete with outdoor tables and umbrellas. To the side was a lounge area with wicker furniture all situated so you could sit and watch the water.

  “Let’s stop here,” Lauren said. She headed to a table, sat down, leaned back and smiled with contentment. She looked happy, which made him happy. And sappy.

  He couldn’t believe how sappy he felt. Paul would rib him for sure.

  “Do you think they’ll have baguettes and hand-squeezed orange juice?” she asked him as he sat down beside her.

  “If the island is as magical as I’m told it is, they should.”

  “Should we test it?” Her eyes twinkled.

  “How?” He was game.

  “What’s something you’ve craved for breakfast but can never find?”

  Marc thought about that. Since his parents’ passing, he’d missed his mom’s shirred eggs. She would add homegrown herbs from her window box, some mushroom and ham and serve it for breakfast on the weekends.

  “It would be sweet if they had oeuf cocotte.” He wondered whether she would know what that meant.

  She cocked her head and stared up at him. “That means shirred egg, right?”

  “Oui. Très bon.”

  He felt as if he’d just won a lifetime of eggs from the way she smiled up at him.

  “The last time Jess came home from one of her trips to France, she only spoke French to us for a month.” She shook her head.

  “She did that because...”

  Lauren groaned. “She thought it would add a new component to our company if we could speak in different languages. As much as I hated her for it at the time, it’s worked to our advantage over and over. We now all take classes in different languages.”

  “How many languages can you speak?”

  “Not as many as you’d think. French and a bit of German. That’s it. I’m to start a new class next month to improve my German. It’s a nine-week course and I promised myself if I got an A, then I would plan a trip there.”

  “Impressive. German’s an easy language to learn. It’s been awhile since I was last there.”

  She narrowed her gaze at him. “Don’t tell me you’re fluent.”

  His reply was to shrug his shoulder.

  “Marc.” She sighed. “Is there anything you can’t do?”

  “I can’t speak Korean. Or Japanese. Or Chinese. Or snorkel.”

  “True. Okay, I can handle that. So you’re not perfect. Good to know.” Her cheeks blushed and she lowered her gaze to the table.

  Just then, someone Marc only assumed was the waiter came out and handed them menus. The kid looked like someone who should be on a surf board and not serving tables.

  “Question,” Marc asked the guy. “Do you have fresh baguettes, fresh squeezed orange juice and—”

  “It’s all in the menu, dude.”

  “Excuse me?” Lauren said. She sat up in her chair and frowned.

  “I’m just filling in. I work in the surf shop but somethin’s going on over at the mainland and I was sent here.” The kid shrugged and crossed his arms.

  “Do you know what?” Marc asked.

  “Nope.”

  “Okay then.” Marc looked over the menu and found exactly what he’d been hoping to find.

  “I’ll have the Parisian special number five.”

  “And I’ll have the number two,” Lauren said.

  Marc glanced over down to see what Lauren had ordered and smiled. Two hard boiled eggs, half a baguette with homemade jam, and freshly squeezed orange juice.

  Exactly what she’d wanted.

  They handed the kid their menus.

  “So there may be a little bit of magic after all,” Lauren said.

  “We’ll see if the eggs are as good as my mom’s.” Marc winked at her.

  “How are your parents?”

  Marc glanced away. He stared out into the ocean and watched the way the waves gently rolled onto the shore and thought about his mom and how she’d loved the trips to the ocean when he was a child.

  “They passed away about a year ago,” he said.

  “Both of them?”

  He nodded and swallowed, hard. “Mom passed away first. She just died in her sleep one night. Dad...” He swallowed again and shifted in his seat. “Dad went shortly after. I think it was too much for him, being alone after so long. He told me his place was with my mom, that he was only half the man he used to be and a few days later, he was gone.”

  Lauren leaned forward and grabbed his hand. “I’m so sorry.”

  Marc nodded but didn’t say anything. He still choked up when he thought of it. Of them. Of their love. It was because of his parents that he believed in soul mates and true love and love at first sight. Because he knew it was real.

  “They loved each other with a passion I’ve never seen before. I...I can only hope to love as hard as my father did. Mom was his life.” He smiled and stared down into Lauren’s eyes. “She was his heart and soul, and he knew it from the moment they first met.” He didn’t look away, just prayed that she understood what he tried to say.

  “I think I would be lost without my parents. I know how important they were to you. I’m sorry.”

  The silence grew between them at that.

  Their server came back out with some cups and a canister of coffee. He set it down and attempted to pour until Lauren reached out and helped him. She steadied the coffee cups and took the cream and sugar from his tray and set it down on the table.

  “Sorry,” the guy mumbled beneath his breath before he headed back into the cafe.

  “Poor kid.” Lauren poured him a cup of coffee before she filled her own cup. Marc drank his black but if his memory was right, Lauren needed both sugar and cream in hers.

  “Black?” he said, a bit surprised.

  She brought the cup up close to her mouth and inhaled. “It took me a bit, but it was either drink coffee black or give up chocolate.”

  “What?”

  “A bet between me and Melanie. I lost.”

  “Do I even dare to ask?” From the look on her face, she didn’t seem too bothered to have lost.

  She laughed, took a sip of her coffee and set it down.

  “It was silly. She said I couldn’t go a week without chocolate and I said I could do a month.”

  “You? Give up chocolate? Even I would know that was crazy.”

  She shrugged. “I don’t like being so predictable. But, yeah, kind of silly.” She leaned back and sighed. “I’ve kind of grown to enjoy the taste of coffee now t
hat it’s not covered up in cream.

  “I wish they were here.” Lauren cleared her throat and leaned forward. “Melanie and I have had a long fascination with Eden and we’ve often fantasized what it would be like here. She would love it. The calmness, how serene it is. Although...it might be too tame for her.” There was a faraway look in her gaze and for a moment he felt jealous of her relationship with her sisters. He wanted her focus to be on the here and now, on him.

  “Is it for you?” He wanted her to walk away from this with a heart full of memories, and hopefully, love. For him.

  “Too tame?” When he nodded, she shook her head. “Not at all. This is exactly what I always dreamed of. The quiet. Listening to the waves, knowing there was no schedule, no appointments, no clients I needed to take care of.”

  “You take care of a lot of people in your life, don’t you?”

  She nodded. “That’s my job. Bella Dia is...well, it’s my life. We all have a role in the company, my sisters and I, but mine is exactly that—taking care of things, of our clients. Ensuring their every need is met. Jessica finds all the amazing locations, Melanie takes care of the practicalities, and I...I take care of my clients.” Her shoulders slumped and she leaned back in her chair. For a moment, Marc caught the look of exhaustion on her face and he heard the words she didn’t say.

  “But who takes care of you?” He couldn’t help himself. He touched her hand and threaded his fingers through hers.

  “I don’t really need to be taken care of. I’m okay.”

  Marc just raised his brows. Even he heard the lackluster in her voice. She needed to be taken care of and he needed to be the one to do it. He felt it, deep inside.

  “Will you let me?” He hadn’t meant to ask her. Hadn’t meant to say the words out loud. But he did and now his world rested on her answer.

  “Don’t answer that.” He wasn’t sure he could handle knowing. Not yet. It was too early, too soon. There was more to be done, more that he needed to do, to show. There was something there between them, something that went beyond physical attraction, although he could see it in the way she subconsciously leaned towards him while they walked side by side, and even now, how she was angled towards him. He knew body language and he could read hers loud and clear.

  There was more between them, though. It was in the silence, the peace. He just needed her to realize it, to believe in it. To believe in him and what they have.

  He needed to prove to her that they had more than just a memory of love.

  Chapter Eight

  Would she let him? Her heart basically melted the moment he asked. She almost said yes before he stopped her.

  He stopped her. Why? Why would he do that? Was he unsure? Did he regret asking?

  All morning, all she’d wanted to do was lean into him and wrap her arms around his waist and feel him, his strength. She wanted to have the feel of his arms around her and to know it wasn’t all in her memory.

  And he’d stopped her. Maybe it was for the best.

  Last night, she’d gone to bed with a plan. She’d been pissed. Well, more than a little pissed. But once she calmed down and really thought about what he’d said...she couldn’t fault him for being scared six years ago. She did blame him for how he reacted—standing her up was not okay, but if he asked her to forgive him, she would. It was in the past.

  She’d realized last night that she had a choice. It was obvious he wanted a second chance, so the ball was in her court. She’d held on to the memory of them for so long...was she willing to give it up all because he made a mistake? Her pride said yes...that he wasn’t worth her heart, but her heart...her heart said differently.

  But today was a new day. A new chance. And she was going to do everything she could to give whatever they had between them that chance.

  She’d thought he wanted the same, except now it didn’t sound as if he was too sure.

  They ate their breakfast in silence. Every time she’d wanted to say something, she stopped herself.

  What could she say?

  Yes, there was a connection between them. The past six years seemed to just melt away but that didn’t negate the fact that for years he’d given up on them.

  Something neither one had the courage to bring up, apparently.

  “Answer me one question.” She decided to dare it. To bring it up and see what he had to say.

  “Anything.”

  “Why couldn’t you tell me how you felt? Why did you think standing me up and then remaining silent for six years was the right thing to do? After all, you had my information.”

  The look on Marc’s face gave her pause. As if he couldn’t believe she asked him that.

  “You didn’t leave me your contacts. I went back, a few days afterwards, hoping maybe you’d left a message, but there’d been nothing. I blamed myself. You were probably mad at me for not showing up, for not being there.” His voice remained calm, at ease, but the way the veins in his neck stood out and how tight he gripped his fork...he was anything but calm.

  “I was,” she admitted. She leaned forward and rested her elbow on the table. “My parents had been in a car accident and I couldn’t stay. I wanted to. I thought about going back the next morning to see if maybe you’d been held up, but I couldn’t. So I left them a letter to give to you.”

  “A letter?”

  She nodded.

  “You left me a letter.”

  “Did you not get it?” There was a sick twist in her gut and she needed to move, to walk, to be anywhere but in this chair. She pushed it back and stood.

  “Where are you going?” Marc wiped his mouth with the napkin and stood.

  Lauren’s chest was tight and she knew she was about to have one of her classic panic attacks when things were out of her control.

  “I need to walk.” She struggled to breathe in deep. “I just need to walk.” She left him standing there and took off, almost running until she was down by the water. She took off her sandals and looked back to see that Marc spoke with the waiter.

  She felt bad for leaving him like that but she had no choice.

  Her thoughts went round and round, like one of those horses on a merry-go-round. She left him a letter. He never wrote her. Never contacted her. But then, maybe he didn’t get it. For years, she’d thought that, wondered that...but the owner had promised her Marc would get it.

  Promised her.

  He’d stood her up but then he’d gone back...that said something. That told her that he’d been able to move past his fear...but it had still been too late. Inside, she was unsettled. She wasn’t sure how she was supposed to feel: Angry? Sad? Confused? All of those?

  The water lapped the shoreline and caressed her toes. It was warm and felt refreshing, so she stepped farther in until her ankles were submerged. She stood there and watched the way the sun danced along the water, sparkling like diamonds, and hugged herself as Marc stood at her side.

  “It almost feels like we were doomed from the start, doesn’t it?”

  “No, love. Not doomed. We just weren’t ready.”

  She shook her head. “The owner promised me you’d get the letter. She promised. I always wondered...thought that maybe you hadn’t gotten it, but then I would remember the way you’d talk with the owner, how friendly you were and that she was a friend of your parents.”

  She turned to him and when she caught the look in his eyes, she knew...

  “But you never got it. She never gave it to you, because...”

  He turned to her and placed his hands on her shoulders. “Because she knew my mother wouldn’t understand my being in love with a foreigner.” The way he said it, so sad and forlorn, told her more than she probably wanted to know.

  She sighed and in that release of breath, she let out everything that she’d kept bottled up inside her. All the pain of the past six years, of feeling unloved, neglected, unworthy. The sadness of knowing that what they had wasn’t real. The heaviness of wondering whether she’d done something, anythin
g, to cause his silence.

  “And if you’d gotten the letter...would you have contacted me? Or would you have left things alone and been a good French boy who listened to his mother? Would you have kept running?”

  “I would have written you. Emailed you. I would have begged for your forgiveness for not being there and for being so foolish. And then I would have done anything and everything to make it work.”

  She closed her eyes at his words.

  “But in the end, we both would have known it couldn’t have.”

  “Could you have left your parents?”

  She shook her head. “The accident was rough. Dad was in a coma for weeks. Mom broke both her legs and hip. I couldn’t have left them. I haven’t. Until now.”

  “Family is the most important thing in our lives. Without them, we are lost.”

  Lauren reached her hand up and gently touched his cheek. She stroked his unshaven jawline and memorized every subtle change from what she’d remembered.

  “Our hearts would have been broken, no matter what. We both would have chosen our families over our love.”

  Marc nodded while he stepped towards her. He took the shoes from her hand and threw them back on the beach, and then pulled her close.

  “But what we have...it’s more than just a memory of a love.”

  She loved being in his arms. It was everything she’d remembered it to be. But...even though this is what she’d wanted, what she’d hoped would happen, why did it feel wrong? Like it wasn’t meant to be?

  There was a sadness in her heart that surprised her.

  “I’m not sure if it is.” She hated the words as she spoke them, but she knew, in her heart, it was the truth.

  “If there is one thing that I’ve learned about myself, it is that my heart is never wrong. Ever. I loved you. I loved everything about you, or what I thought I knew about you. And I held that close. It’s what got me through these past six years. The memory of what we had. The memory of our love. And it was enough. More than enough. But, that’s all it was—”

  “Don’t say it.” Marc shook his head but wouldn’t look her in the eyes.

  She ran her fingers over his jawline and then touched his lips.