“Meadows! Come look at this!” I didn’t realize Ansel had left my line of sight. I leave my bags and follow the sound of his voice, finding him in the bedroom standing at the opened double doors leading to a wrought iron balcony. “Look.” He steps aside, making room beside his body for me to join.
My jaw opens. “It’s beautiful,” I gasp, my fingers coming up to my mouth trying to cover my surprise.
The view of the Eiffel Tower is spectacular. It’s a distance away, but the view is completely unobstructed and on the top floor of the building it’s perfectly aligned.
“I can’t believe we’re here.” Ansel leans his body against the railing. The veins in his arms stick out and I don’t know how he can bear standing out here with no jacket.
“I can’t either. This whole trip has been surreal.”
I still can’t believe December is approaching. We took our time in each country and city we visited, truly immersing ourselves in the culture and lifestyle. It’s been an experience I know I’ll never forget.
Ansel dips his head in my direction. “I might never leave.”
I stare back at him, noting the serious tone to his voice even though his smile suggests he’s joking. “I wouldn’t blame you.”
I leave him on the balcony so I can finish exploring the apartment, it’s not like there’s too much left to see.
The bed in the room is huge, and I’m sure an apartment like this might be used often with honeymooners. The canopy above the bed is a soft petal pink and with the white and beige bedding it looks like something out of a fairytale. Gliding my fingers over the covers, I blush as I watch Ansel out on the balcony, the breeze carrying in through the open doors.
I’ve slept with him every night since our first night in London. I haven’t had any more nightmares either. I don’t for a second think I’m cured of them because he’s there at night, but I do think the comfort of his presence keeps my mind from sinking into a dark place where I’m more susceptible to them.
Leaving the bedroom, I step into the attached bathroom. It’s small, but nice. I can’t help but smile at the claw-foot bathtub, knowing I’ll have to make use of it. I pause, taking in my reflection in the mirror.
I look better than I did when I left the States. I’ve gained a little weight, my body filling out more into womanly curves. My eyes are a little brighter, not quite happy but not so haunted. There are more changes too, but those are on the inside. My confidence has grown with our travels and my heart … it’s still a little broken, but it’s beginning to stitch itself together.
Sighing, I turn away from the mirror.
“Let’s go somewhere,” Ansel announces, closing the balcony doors.
“Where?”
He shrugs. “There’s probably a café or something close.”
“Okay,” I agree, eager to get out on the streets of Paris. Already, the vibe in this city speaks to my soul.
We leave our bags to unpack later, too eager to immerse ourselves in the heart of things.
As soon as we step onto the street I inhale the air. I smell the heavenly scent of various foods stirring in the air and people chatter on the streets, walking at a clipped pace to get wherever they’re headed.
Ansel’s head swivels back and forth, trying to take everything in. The look of awe glimmering on his face makes my heart flutter. There’s something in his eyes I can’t explain, but I know it speaks to something in my soul. I want to look at something like that. Sadly, I think I might’ve looked at Lachlan in a similar manner, but he’s gone and I have to move on.
Moving on is easier said than done. I’ve vowed to myself to send him no more texts, but knowing me I’ll break my promise eventually.
We’re only about two or three minutes from the apartment when we spot a quaint café tucked down an alley. It would be all too easy to miss, but apparently Ansel has an eagle eye for these kinds of things.
He holds the door open and I trudge inside, inhaling the heavenly aroma of espresso. American coffee has nothing on the stuff you can get in Europe. I don’t know how I’ll survive once I return home.
We snag a table by the window, it doesn’t let much light in, being in the alley and all, but it’s nice. There are only a handful of other tables and people sit around chatting at them.
Ansel places our order, already knowing what I’ll want, since his French is better than mine.
“I don’t know how my dad ever left France,” he remarks, looking out the window to the street we came from. “He met my mom here. She was on vacation with some girlfriends after college. He convinced her to stay the rest of the summer with him and they fell in love. He moved to the States with her and the rest is history.”
“I guess he loved her enough to leave.” I flinch as soon as the words leave my lips. Did Lachlan leave because of his love for me? It doesn’t seem likely. If he truly loved me he would’ve waited. I was so close to graduating and we would’ve been free to be together. I shiver at the memories of the nasty rumors that circulated those final weeks of school. All year I had flown under the radar, no one found out about my past, but at the end I became the subject of gossip and ridicule.
“What is it?”
“Huh?” I shake my mind free of my thoughts, looking across the round wooden table at Ansel.
He flicks a piece of dark hair out of his eyes. “You looked lost. Where’d you go?”
I shoot a smile as the waiter brings us our espressos. To Ansel I say, “I … uh … I was thinking about the rumors.”
“The rumors,” he repeats, his jaw ticking. Even though he’s been supportive I know the situation makes him angry. “They weren’t really rumors, though, Dani,” he reminds me.
It’s the use of Dani instead of Meadows that tells me how pissed he still is. He’d probably punch Lachlan if he ever saw him again.
“Most of them were.” My voice is small. I stare down at the tiny white espresso cup on a matching plate.
“You still slept with him.”
I bite my lip, feeling the telltale sting of tears. I rub my finger around the rim of the cup. “I know you can’t begin to understand it, but we had a connection that was … unexplainable. We both fought our feelings for so long and I kept telling myself I had an innocent crush but it was so much more.” I finally bring the cup to my lips, taking a small sip.
“You really loved him, didn’t you? Not infatuation but true love?”
I give a jerk of my head. “Yeah, I did. I still do. Feelings like these are too strong to just go away. I wish they would but they don’t.”
He stares across the table at me unblinking. “No one deserves to have their heart broken like that.”
“Heartbreak is inevitable.” I shrug like it’s not a big deal, but it is.
I don’t think I’ll ever love anyone in this world as much as I love Lachlan. It’s not that I don’t think I might fall in love again one day, but I know it’ll never come up to the power of my emotions for him. Some things are one of a kind.
“Besides,” I continue, “I’ve lived through worse.”
I’m beginning to finally accept that there is no way to truly move on from that day and the subsequent months of pain, surgeries, and rehab. It’ll always live within me, the haunting memories, but I have to go on and live in spite of it. My suffering doesn’t hurt anyone but myself.
Ansel taps his finger against the table. “Want to talk about it?”
I shake my head, looking away from him.
Talking about it hurts too much.
“You can talk to me about it. When you’re ready.”
I force a smile for his benefit, not mine. “I know.”
And I do, but it’s scary to talk. Lachlan is the only person I’ve shared the most intimate details of my mind with. My pain, my fears, the darkest parts of myself that recoil from the light. I gave it all to him and in the end he left me. What’s to say Ansel wouldn’t do the same?
I finish my espresso and he does the same. We pay the
check and he stands, shrugging into his jacket.
Offering his hand to me, he gives a small smile. “Come on, Meadows. We have a city to explore.”
Chapter Seventy-Two
“If you won’t come here, maybe I should go there for Christmas.”
“Sage, that’s really not necessary. It’s a long flight and it’s one Christmas. We’ll spend next Christmas together.”
“Anything can happen, D. I was supposed to spend Christmas with you and mom two years ago but that didn’t happen.”
I rub my hand against my forehead, knowing he has a valid point.
I’m not ready to go home, even for a visit, but I’m worried having Sage here will be like having reality smack me in the face. But I know I can’t keep refusing my brother.
“Actually, come, it’ll be nice to see you.”
It doesn’t seem possible that it’s been six months since I saw my brother, but it has been. Time’s been passing quickly, but I guess it has helped that I’ve been on the move so much. There’s been so much to explore since I left the States and so much is only a train ride away here. Plus, with the rich histories there’s always something to learn.
Lately, Ansel and I have been exploring various art museums in Paris. There’s an abundance of them and Ansel eats it up, staring at the paintings and studying the strokes imprinted in the paint from a time long ago.
“Really? You’re not going to keep arguing?”
“No.”
“Good, because I already got a plane ticket and was coming anyway.”
I laugh. Of course he is. “You’ll have to stay in a hotel though,” I warn. “There’s not enough room here.”
“What do you mean? I can sleep on the couch.”
“There’s only one room, so Ansel sleeps on the couch,” I lie.
Ansel throws an amused grin my way, from where he sits in the kitchen, looking out the windows and sketching the buildings surrounding ours. I bet it’s beautiful here in the spring and summer. Even now, the city is stunning, and the light swirls of snow floating down look like tufts of cotton.
“Fine, I’ll book a hotel. Send me your address again so I can get something close by.”
I hear a voice in the background. “Who’s there?”
“No one,” he says a bit too quickly. “I have to go.”
“Sage—”
Before I can say anything else the line goes dead. I stare down at the screen of my phone, now showing me my wallpaper—a photo of Ansel and I in front of the Trevi Fountain. We haven’t been to the Eiffel Tower yet. I think we’ve both been saving it, so we can savor the moment we’re finally beneath it. That might be silly, but moments deserve to be treasured. In the end, our memories are the things that matter most.
“That was weird,” I mumble more to myself than Ansel. I toss my phone on the couch, shaking my head as I pad across the room to where Ansel sits at the tiny kitchen table. I bend over, resting my chin on his shoulder as I study his sketch. “That’s beautiful. You’re so talented.”
He rubs the side of his pinky against the charcoal, blending it more. “You’re biased.”
“I’m honest,” I argue.
“You mean you’d tell me if you thought I sucked?” He turns his head to face me and suddenly he’s right there. His mouth centimeters from mine. For a second I think about how easy it would be to kiss him. All I would have to do is move the tiniest bit closer. Press our mouths together.
I jolt away from him like I’ve been electrocuted.
His brows furrow, probably wondering what caused my reaction.
I hastily tuck a piece of hair behind my ear, turning for the refrigerator and grabbing some water, gulping it down like my life depends on it.
“It’s okay if you feel something for me, you know,” he says from behind me, the sound of papers shuffling as he closes his sketchpad. “He isn’t going to own your heart forever.”
My throat closes up and I toss the bottle in the waste bin. “I’m going for a walk.”
I grab my set of keys from the bowl near the door, stuffing my feet into my boots and shoving my arms into my coat.
“Meadows, wait,” he calls, following me.
I pause with my hand on the door. “I’m very confused right now, and I need to take a walk.” There’s more bite to my voice than I intend.
I open the door, but it doesn’t close behind me and I know he’s holding it open, watching me walk away while I refuse to look back.
“I’m sorry.”
My steps halt. “Don’t be. It’s not you.”
It’s me. It’s always me.
I hurry to the elevator, down to the bottom level and out onto the street.
The cold chill hits me like a slap to the face. It’s just what I need.
The streets aren’t too busy, where we live is a quieter street, and I’m able to walk without worrying about bumping into anyone.
My throat feels tight and my eyes burn.
I almost kissed Ansel, and the worst thing is a part of me wanted to. I wanted to see how his lips would feel against mine, how different his touch would be from Lachlan’s. But if I’m going to kiss Ansel then Lachlan shouldn’t be a thought in my brain, but he is, because despite everything he’s always there.
I walk with my head down, trying not to think of all the walks I took from Sage’s condo, subsequently bumping into Lachlan and Zeppelin.
I miss him and I hate myself for missing him.
It’s maddening loving someone so much when you wish you could hate them instead.
I’ve sent him so many texts saying I hate him, but it’s never true. I don’t hate him at all and it’s not fair. He’s the one who left. He’s no doubt moved on with his life, while I’m still here, this many months later, unable to kiss another guy because all I can think of is him and how it feels like a betrayal if I kiss Ansel.
I keep walking and walking, refusing to let my limp slow me down. With all the walking we’ve done in the various cities we’ve been to my leg has grown stronger, but there have also been days when it aches deep in the bones and joints.
My phone rings and it’s Ansel, but I ignore his call. He’s the last person I want to talk to right now. I know he probably wants to make sure I’m okay, but I need this time to myself. I need to walk and breathe and think, even if thinking hurts. It stirs up emotions I keep burying instead of dealing with. I’m masking the problem, not solving it, and I’m never going to be able to truly move on from the shooting, from Lachlan, until I do.
I walk deeper into the city, onto unfamiliar streets. I know there’s no way I’ll ever find my way back to the apartment, but I’m not planning to. When I’m ready to go back I’ll catch a cab.
My thoughts drift as I walk, probably going places they shouldn’t at times, but it allows me to sort through some things.
I pass a flower shop, and pause, staring at the flowers inside.
There’s not a single dandelion amongst their midst. Of course there’s not, I doubt they even exist here, but even if they did you wouldn’t find one in a florist shop. That used to bother me, being named after a flower that people view as ugly and unnecessary.
Not anymore.
I see now how perfect the name is for me.
Like a dandelion, I’m resilient. I can be cut down but I keep coming back. I won’t let life beat me down into nothing. I will grow, I will become. Become what? I don’t know, but that’s the beauty of it.
It’s another hour before I finally catch a taxi back to the apartment.
When I open the door, Ansel has his phone poised in his hand, no doubt about to ring me again.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Dani, you’ve been gone almost three hours. I was worried something happened to you.”
“I’m fine.” I lock the door behind me, trying to head to the bedroom.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Wait, we need to talk.”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” I disagree, trying to bypass him, he blocks my way, refus
ing to let me by.
“You almost kissed me, I think there’s plenty to talk about.”
During my walk, I had done my best to forget things, to dismiss it from my mind, but I should’ve expected it’d be the first thing on his.
“I-It was a moment of weakness.”
He snorts. “A moment of weakness.” His hold flexes against my forearm where he grips it. “It’s okay to like me as more than a friend. It’s okay to want to kiss me. And Meadows?” He leans in closer, his breath fanning against my face. My heart beats rapidly behind my rib cage like the treacherous organ it is. “It’s okay to move on from him.”
He releases his hold on me, allowing me to disappear into the confines of the bedroom.
The bedroom I share with him, not Lachlan.
I bury myself under the thick covers, covering my face.
Why can’t I let him go?
Chapter Seventy-Three
I run my hands down the front of my outfit, a pair of jeans and a cream-colored sweater. For some odd reason I’m outrageously nervous to see my brother. I guess after all this time apart I’m afraid he’s not going to recognize me, which is beyond silly.
“I can smell your stress sweat from here.” I know Ansel’s trying to lighten the mood, but it’s not working.
It’s been two, nearly three, weeks since the almost-not-really kiss. He hasn’t brought it up anymore, but his eyes tell me he wants to. He’s continued to sleep with me, wrapping his arms around me like every other night.
His touch is comforting and I like being around him. I keep asking myself why I can’t feel something more for him. I want to so badly. I want to replace the memories of Lachlan’s hands on my body, the taste of his skin, with someone else’s, but if I can’t feel those things for Ansel, someone I already love and care about in a different way, I can’t imagine it happening with a stranger.
God, it’s so fucked up.
“I know. I’m a mess,” I finally reply, crossing my arms over my chest.
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