Frenched (18 page)

He shook his head. “You lost me.”

“We want different things, Lucas. I know you’ll think I’m crazy to think so far ahead, but I want to get married someday. I want a family. I want a home, in one place, wherever that place may be. You don’t want those things.”

“But you’re talking about a ‘someday’ in the far future. You don’t even know when that will be.”

I shook my head. “It’s not that far in the future to me. I’ll be twenty-eight this year, Lucas. I’d like to start a family by the time I’m thirty. That’s in two years.”

“Why are you putting deadlines on your life that way?” Anger and frustration colored his words. “Why can’t you just enjoy life as it comes?”

“It’s not a deadline, Lucas, it’s a dream. And it’s my life, OK? Just because you don’t want those things doesn’t make it wrong for me to want them.”

“I never said it was wrong to want them, I just—” Lucas let go of one hand and rubbed the back of his neck. “God, I don’t understand why you have to obsess over the future like that. You don’t know what that will be—no one does. Life could end tomorrow. We can enjoy what we have now without having to take out a mortgage or name our kids or buy a dog.”

I knew what he meant, but I couldn’t live that way. “I understand what you’re saying. But for me, what we have now needs space to grow into something else, something bigger.” I put a hand to my chest. “I know it’s hard for you to understand, but making that kind of commitment to someone is important to me. It doesn’t have to be today or tomorrow, but it has to be possible.”

Lucas sighed and shut his eyes briefly. “I just want to spend more time with you, Mia. I’ve never felt this knocked out by anyone.”

“Really?” I took a time-out from Strong and let Flattered have a moment.

“Yes. You’re amazing. I mean, aside from your insane drive to plan out every minute detail of your life from birth to death, you’re the most fun person I’ve ever been with. And you’re beautiful and smart and funny and
Christ
, you’re hot in bed.”

Oh yeah. Flattered was killing it. “And in the kitchen?”

He smiled sideways at me. “And in the kitchen. And the living room. And the shower, the villa, and the orchard.”

The orchard. Fuck.
My body shivered involuntarily.

He took my hand again. “Mia, I can be my real self with you like I never have with anyone else. In every way.”

I knew exactly what he meant because I felt it too, but I wasn’t hearing what I needed to hear. To avoid pressing a hopeless point or dissolving into tears again, I made a joke. “You’re just happy I let you tie me up.”

“No, I’m not. Well, yes I am, but that’s not all I meant.” He tipped his head from side to side. “I guess I’d be lying if I said the sex had
nothing
to do with it—I love that you’re not scared of anything.”

“I’m not with you,” I said honestly. “Not for one minute.”

“And I love that you’re so passionate and willing and vocal about sex—I’ve never been with anyone like you who knows just what she wants and isn’t afraid to ask for it. Or take it.” He ran a hand up my leg. “Being with you is…” He shook his head. “I can’t describe it. But oh my God.”

I smiled ruefully. “Don’t worry, the sex has a lot to do with it for me, too. I think you’ve spoiled me for life.”

He squeezed my thigh. “Good.”

I lay back again, crossing my arms over my chest. Talking about sex wasn’t going to help us—we both liked it too much. The chemistry was too spectacular. “No, Lucas, it’s not good. I’m all caught up in the way I feel about you, but we want different things—maybe not sexually—but ultimately. In life. And neither of us is willing to change.” I dug my nails into my upper arms.

Tell me I’m wrong. Deny it. Please.

Lucas spoke softly. “I just don’t see why we can’t try to make this work without knowing what the end result will be. I think I could make you happy.”

My insides crumbled. God, he made this so fucking hard. “I know you could, Lucas. But I’m done with casual dating. I’m not interested in just fooling around—I need to know that we’re moving toward something. And maybe that makes me crazy, considering what I just went through, but that’s me.” My lower lip quivered and my stomach churned. “And it isn’t you.”

Say you’ll change. Say I’m worth it.

But he said nothing. A full minute ticked by with Lucas staring at his hand on my leg in silence.

“Am I wrong?” I asked softly.

He shook his head. “I don’t want to make any promises to you that I can’t keep. It wouldn’t be fair, especially after what you’ve been through.”

“Then this is what we’ll have.” I swung my legs off the chair. The deluge was coming, and I wanted to leave him so I could go cry it out alone, but he caught my arm.

“Please, Mia.” His voice cracked, and it nearly shattered me. “Don’t go.”

“I have to, Lucas. I came here to get stronger, to start enjoying life on my own again. Instead I fell for you, and knowing that I have to walk away is enough to break me. Let me go, please.”

Don’t let me go. Please.

But he did.

I went upstairs, undressed, and got ready for bed. I’d like to say that I remained strong and sure of my decision, but the truth is I blubbered like a baby for the next three hours straight. Had I made a huge mistake? How could he have let me go without fighting for me? Where was he now, back at the party? My stomach heaved. I could hear the music perfectly from here through the open window. Was he dancing with some other girl? Speaking French in her ear? Would he not sleep in this bed tonight, the one I thought of as
ours
? Jumping up, I shut the window, closed the curtain and buried myself under the covers. I tugged at my hair and hunched up my knees, soaking the pillow with tears.

Eventually I fell asleep, because I woke up when the bedroom door creaked open. I opened one eye and watched Lucas undress, my thighs clenching tight at the sight of him removing his suit and tie. I loved his body, the sinew and lean muscle, the smooth skin, the easy way he moved. He draped his clothing over a chair, and went into the bathroom. My heart was thudding fast but I tried to feign sleep. I couldn’t handle any more talking.

The bathroom door opened and Lucas got into bed. I kept my breathing deep and even, and I lay facing away from him, my hands beneath my cheek.
How is he lying? Facing me? Away from me? On his back? Is he looking at me? Will he touch me?
I couldn’t even decide if I wanted him to or not.

Actually, that’s a big lie. I wanted him to touch me. I wanted to be with him one more time and know for certain it was the last time. It might not do me any good—in fact, it would probably do me harm—but if he reached for me, I’d go to him.

After a few minutes of silence ticked by, I figured he’d gone to sleep and a shuddering sigh escaped me.
That’s it, then. It’s over.

A moment later, the mattress shifted and I felt soft lips on my shoulder. Resting there, sending chills down my spine. A hand crept onto my stomach. A warm body cradled mine from behind, and I closed my eyes in bliss.

A hand brushed the hair from my neck and the lips swept up and pressed kisses below my ear. The hand on my belly slid under my tank top and closed over one breast. My nipple responded to his touch, and he caressed it lightly. Then the other. I felt his erection stiffen and swell on my lower back, and my hand moved to it automatically, stroking it through his boxers. When his breathing grew ragged, I rolled onto my back and looked up at him.

The room was so dark I couldn’t read his eyes, but I sensed his sadness as well as his desire, and I knew exactly how he felt, how one could feed the other. “Lucas. What are we doing?”

“I don’t know,” he whispered, brushing the hair off my forehead. “I told myself not to touch you, I know it isn’t fair. But I’m lying over there and I can smell your skin. And just like that I could taste you.”

“I want you to touch me.” I reached for the hem of my tank top and drew it over my head, and he put his mouth on my breasts. Flinging my arms over my head, I arched beneath him, wanting to offer him every inch of my skin to taste.

He kissed his way down my belly and pulled my underwear off. “Should I get a condom?”

“No.” I reached for him and pulled him up on top of me. “I want to feel you. Closer.”

We went slow this time, savoring every kiss, every touch, every hushed word and breath. We ran our hands and mouths over each other’s bodies, committing to memory the curve of a shoulder or hip. The arc of a back or neck. The lines of muscle and bone.

Finally, with our eyes locked on each other, our hands clasped above my shoulders, he slid inside me and moved in deep, unhurried strokes until I was breathless and trembling, torn between trying to make it last and telling him to fuck me hard and fast, to make me come, to fill me up. My mind wanted to slow time down while my body longed to race toward release.

Not really a bad problem to have.

Eventually, my body won out and I begged shamelessly for what I wanted.

He gave me everything.

By the time we exhausted ourselves, soft pink light was glowing through the filmy curtains. I fell asleep on a pillow damp with tears, begging the sun not to rise.

#

Lucas and I spoke very little on the way back to Paris. I fell asleep on the train, waking up only once or twice to see Lucas staring out the window, a grave expression on his face. I knew he didn’t want to say goodbye today, but I think he understood why I had to. In fact, I was debating putting in a call to Erin and seeing if her mom would help me change my ticket so I could go home tomorrow. Staying here three more days knowing that Lucas was nearby would be too difficult—I didn’t trust myself to stay away from him.

Several times I had to squeeze my eyes shut to combat the tears that were constantly threatening to undo me.
Just wait until you get to your room. You can hole up, drink wine, and eat pain au chocolat until it’s time to go. Or until you burst, whatever comes first.

When the train pulled into the Paris station, I congratulated myself on making it back to the city without breaking down. See? You got this. Now you just have to stay strong for twenty more minutes.

If only that twenty minutes didn’t include saying goodbye.

“You don’t have to see me back to the Plaza,” I told Lucas once we got off the TGV at the Gare de Lyon. “I know which Metro to take and I can find my way.” I pulled up the handle on my suitcase and looked around for a sign to the line I needed, but really I was just trying to avoid looking at him, and he knew it.

“Mia, please. Look at me.”

Reluctantly I met his eyes, and felt my resolve weaken. I looked away. “I can’t, Lucas. It’s too hard.”

He sighed. “So this is it? I can’t even see you again before you leave?”

I shook my head, not trusting my voice.

“I want to tell you what you want to hear so badly.”

“But you can’t.” It was a dare.

“I just don’t want to lie to you. Goddammit, will you please just look at me?” He put his hand under my chin and forced me to meet his eyes. They were angry and sad. “You can walk away. I won’t stop you. But I’m telling you now that I have feelings for you and I don’t want you to go. I know a relationship wouldn’t be easy, I know we’re different, and I know long distance isn’t much fun. But Jesus, Mia.” His dark eyes glittered. “Can’t we at least try?”

My throat was so tight, I thought my voice would come out in a squeak. “I want to say yes, Lucas. But I’m scared. I pinned all my hopes on one person before, and he let me down. I’m not saying you’re anything like him,” I said when I saw his eyes flash in outrage, “I’m just telling the truth. And you know what?” I took a deep breath. “You are too, and I’m grateful for that. I have no desire to make you say anything that you don’t want to, or make any promise you can’t keep. And maybe I still have some healing to do.” My eyes finally filled, and a few tears spilled over.

His beautiful mouth was set in a straight line as he wiped them away with his thumbs. “I know you do. I’m sure this is too much for you, and I’m sorry.” He took his hands from my cheeks and ran them down over his face. “I really wish I’d have met you under different circumstances, Mia Devine. But I’m not sorry about anything we’ve done. Only that this is hurting you.”

“I’m not sorry, either,” I whispered. People rushed by us and maybe they even looked at us with pity—what’s sadder than a train station farewell?—but I didn’t care. I threw my arms around Lucas and held him tight, breathing in the scent of lavender and the olive grove, which still clung to his clothing and skin. My stomach was churning. Was I making the right decision?

“You know my number.” His voice was shaky but his arms around my back were firm. “I won’t bother you, but if you want me for anything…”

I nodded, and he released me, took my face in his hands and kissed me full on my trembling lips.

“You go first,” he whispered.

“OK.” I sniffed and offered a small, watery smile before walking off in what I really,
really
hoped was the right direction. I never did see a sign.

No luck.

“Mia?”

I turned to see him unable to hide that grin I adored.

“You’re going the wrong way.” He pointed in the opposite direction, where I finally saw the fucking sign.

“Oh.” With all the dignity I could muster (not much), I wheeled my suitcase around and passed him again. “Thank you. For everything.”

“It was my pleasure,” he said, watching me. “Every moment.”

I forced myself to keep going.

It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.

#

I rode the train to my stop with one arm over my aching stomach and the other hand cradling my forehead. I was glad there was an open seat because my legs felt too shaky to stand. Staring at my suitcase between my knees, I reminded myself to breathe and tried not to think about Lucas sitting alone on a different train, going back to that little apartment I loved.

I’d never see it again.

My lower lip quivered. I closed my eyes and begged God to get me back to my hotel room without another tidal wave of tears. It was one thing to cry alone in your room or even in front of a friend, but crying alone in a crowd was not something I needed to cross off a list. Jeez, hadn’t my pride suffered enough?

Barely holding myself together, I kept an eye out for the stop I wanted, got off when I was supposed to, and dragged my suitcase into the Plaza.

Inside the elevator, a few heaving gasps escaped, and then a wrenching sob. Squeezing my eyes shut, I tried holding my breath, which just caused my shoulders to jerk. When the doors opened on my floor, I bolted through them and tore down the hallway, weeping openly.

I dug through my purse for the key card and shoved it in and out. When the green light flashed, I pushed the door open and burst into the room, prepared to throw myself onto the bed and wail for hours.

Imagine my surprise when I found that I was not alone.