Chapter 42
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
LAURA
A faint smell of solder and metal fills the small, poorly ventilated back room of Aunt Mei’s shop as I pore over my workbench. I’m working on a band cut from rich espresso-brown leather. It’s a men’s piece. I designed it during the sleepless night before last after getting home from the bizarre dinner with Mike, Antoine, and Celeste.
I was such a mess!
My fingers trace the large clasp I’d crafted from polished silver yesterday evening. Etched onto it is the rose-and-ribbon design from the music box. It still needs a bit of work, but the intricate petals and entwining ribbons are already fully shaped.
I adjust the magnifying glass and pick up my butane torch, when the doorbell chime reaches me through the dividing wall. Aunt Mei will have closed the shop by now to balance the books for the day. Sometimes, though, if business is good, she stays open until eight.
Either way, I keep working. If she decides to let the late customer in, she’ll open the door. Yep, she’s opening, from the sound of it. I hear a familiar voice that makes me freeze in my tracks.
A moment later, Antoine steps into the tiny back room.
My heart lurches. He looks just as good as he did two days ago at that disastrous dinner. But today there’s a determination in his demeanor, an intensity in his dark eyes. His crisp white shirt is a little wrinkled, like when you don’t have time to change all day.
I stare at him with the torch still in my hand. “What are you doing here?”
“I need to talk to you.”
“Right now?”
“Yes.”
In two strides, he’s in front of me. He takes my hands. The torch tips precariously, and I yank it away before I accidentally set us both on fire.
“Careful!” I put the torch down.
My voice comes out sharper than I intended, but I’ve had a rough two days. A rough month, if I’m being honest. Four weeks of pretending I’m fine, of convincing myself that I can be happy with Mike, that I still have feelings for him, that I’m over Antoine. Seeing him now feels like someone’s pulled a rug out from under me.
His hands wrap around mine once more. “Laura, please, will you hear me out?”
“You have five minutes.”
“OK.” He swallows. “OK. Here goes. I came to tell you that I’m done mistaking obligation for purpose. I’m also done pretending I’m fine without you.”
It’s just words. Don’t let him fool you again!
I smirk. “So, you were pretending when you dumped me?”
“I was an idiot.”
“What about Celeste?”
“We’d started dating two months ago before I met you.”
“Even better!” I lift my eyes skyward.
He exhales sharply. “Celeste and I broke up.”
“Oh, did you?” I pull my hands free and cross my arms. “Well, that’s tough. Because I’m still with Mike.”
Well, in a manner of speaking.
I haven’t slept with him since I took him back. My sex drive has been MIA. Shockingly, I don’t find Mike attractive anymore. Letting him kiss me is an effort, and I’m relieved every time he travels to another city to perform with his band. The farther he goes and the longer he stays there, the happier I am…
Antoine’s gaze flickers to the workbench and settles on the men’s bracelet I was working on.
A roguish grin spreads across his face. “That’s a striking design. Feels familiar somehow… I wonder where I’ve seen it before?”
“Don’t assume it’s for you.”
He raises his hands in mock innocence. “I wouldn’t dare.”
“Good. Because it’s not.”
“Laura,” he begins again, his expression serious once again. “I made mistakes. I lied to you, manipulated you, and then walked out on you. I’ll be ashamed of that behavior for the rest of my life.”
“And you should be.”
“But what I felt for you was never a lie.”
I turn away, refusing to meet his gaze.
“Those feelings didn’t go away,” he continues. “They’re still there, stronger than ever. I’m in love with you, Laura. I’m crazy about you.”
Believing him is just as tempting as it is scary.
“We did it backwards a month ago, sweet cheeks,” he says. “Let’s start over and do it right this time.”
“Meaning?”
“I’ll take you out like a normal person. We’ll date. You’ll visit Mount Evor to see where I’m from and if you like it there. You’ll meet my parents. I’ll meet yours—properly. No lies this time.”
I squint at him without saying anything.
He speaks quickly, like he’s afraid I’ll stop him. “In a few weeks, I’ll propose. If you feel the same way about me as I do about you, we’ll get engaged and move in together. And then, Laura, only then will we get married.”
My throat tightens.
He steps closer, his eyes fixed on me.
I find myself unable to look away.
“Tell me you’ve moved on,” he says. “Tell me you’re happy with Mike, and I’ll go. But if there’s any part of you?—”
“Don’t.”
“I need to know, Laura.”
Suddenly, my workshop feels too small, too hot. I want to keep punishing him—God knows he deserves it!—but it’s increasingly harder to deny how much I crave his touch, his kiss.
As if sensing the change in me, he moves closer. His hand brushes against mine, sending a jolt of electricity through my veins. He searches my face and, before I can overthink it, he leans in. His hand slides to the small of my back. His lips find mine. The explosive cocktail of urgency and tenderness in his kiss takes my breath away.
As our kiss deepens, Antoine cradles my face. I let myself melt into him, gripping the front of his shirt. My gesture isn’t erotic—I just need to hold on to something steady to counteract all the lightheadedness. His lips feel both familiar and new. His deft tongue makes my taste buds tingle as it reacquaints itself with my mouth, leaving me wanting more of him… especially the hardened part that’s prodding my stomach.
When he finally pulls away, just enough to rest his forehead against mine, our breaths mingle, uneven and warm.
“What if your feelings,” I murmur, “are just lust masquerading as something more?”
“It’s a valid concern.”
“So?”
“I’ve been in lust before, many times,” he says. “It’s never lasted this long or survived a separation.”
“Hmm.”
He peers at me. “I know myself, love.”
I hesitate.
Oh, for Pete’s sake, Laura, say it, already! It’s now or never.
I run my hands over his chest. “I’m not your equal, socially or financially.”
“True.”
And? Neglecting to breathe, I wait for him to continue.
“Maybe it works differently with women,” he begins, “but a man’s heart is a stubborn SOB. You can try to reason with it but, in the end, it doesn’t give a fuck about status or money.”
“Are we talking about a man’s heart or a man’s dick?” I tease.
“The heart, most definitely! But, speaking of dicks…” He looks down at his burgeoning erection. “Can you call it a night and come away with me?”
“What, now?”
“I might wither away if I have to wait an hour too long.”
“I won’t allow it!” I take my apron off.
He beams like he’s the happiest man in the world.