19. Matteo
19
MATTEO
I rapped on Esmé’s door, steadying my breath. Today I was taking her zip lining.
This past week carried a strange energy—like we’d shared a secret neither would acknowledge. We’d danced around each other in the gallery, exchanged smiles, and shared Claudette’s affection. But we hadn’t spoken about that moment on her doorstep.
The memory tugged at my gut—I’d kissed her cheek and then blurted out my age. I still couldn’t believe she hadn’t asked sooner. I’d shown no such restraint in learning everything I could about her.
Not that my age mattered. Esmé was off limits. She might be the most beautiful woman I’d ever known—smart, elegant, and funny—but in her eyes, I’d always be Gio’s grandson.
The door opened and Esmé stood on the step, looking as incredible as ever. She’d tethered her long hair in two braids and her cheeks glowed a soft pink. The second she smiled, my heart melted. “I bring coffee,” I said, offering her the takeaway cup I held.
My habit of getting her coffee each morning held strong. A large café crème, extra hot, before the gallery opened. I loved how she took off the lid and sipped the foam as she concentrated on something else.
Often, she’d be so distracted by some artwork, or searching catalogues online, the coffee would leave a fine line of cream along her top lip. I’d longed to kiss it away every time.
“ Merci . I need coffee today,” she said, beckoning me in. She took the cup and sipped from it as she moved to the kitchen.
“Are these shorts appropriate?” she asked over her shoulder. “I wasn’t sure what people wore to zip line.”
I looked at her long legs and swallowed. Who cared what was appropriate or what anyone else wore? She looked incredible.
She busied around her kitchen, watering the herb pots that she’d now re-homed on the counter. They’d bounced back, and their fresh green leaves made me smile.
“Initially I thought jeans, but I didn’t want to feel restricted. And it’s not too chilly today.I think spring is in the air.”
I chuckled. I’d never known her to have so much to say. “You’re chatty today. Nervous?”
“I’m fine.” After adding water to the last plant, she turned around and looked at my legs, a line forming between her brows. “You’re wearing track pants. Should I change?”
Oh, hell no. She looked amazing.
I shrugged. “As you say, it’s a little warmer today. You’ll be fine as you are.” I checked my watch. “We should get going.” I swung my car keys around one finger.
“You’re driving? I didn’t think you had a car. You’re only in Paris for a little while.”
My gut pulled. I didn’t need reminding I was only here for a few more months. “I have contacts. I can rustle up transport when I need to.”
She tipped her head. “Then let’s go.”
The second we arrived at the zip line park, Esmé’s relaxed demeanour changed. In the car, she’d been full of conversation.
True, we’d mostly talked about Luc’s exhibition and her plans for Rome, but the minute we drove into the carpark, her hands bunched into fists, and her jaw tightened.
We now stood in a small group for the safety briefing, a stiff breeze ruffling through the trees. Esmé listened to our instructor as if he was giving her a tutorial on the use of the nuclear codes.
She fixed her gaze on his face, her arms crossed around her body like a straitjacket. I smiled. I bet she’d be one of those people who always read the safety card on a plane.
She shuffled back and forth, fingers fidgeting against her ribs. I longed to reach out and still her trembling hands; massage out her knotted shoulders.
Was I being cruel, asking her to do something that so obviously terrified her? Yes. But like I said the other night, being scared and letting yourself feel a rush was good for the soul. I couldn’t wait to see the grin on her face when she let go of her fears.
When the briefing ended, I walked to the gear and picked out two harnesses. “Here, I’ll show you how to put it on.”
She looked at me, then around at the other zip liners, her eyes as round as tree trunks. “Shouldn’t the staff do that?”
I chuckled. “I’ve geared up a few times before, I promise. Maybe they can tell.” Truthfully, I’d called ahead. Though I hadn’t been here before, when I told the staff my name, they recognised me. As long as we signed hefty waivers and attended the safety briefing, they’d allowed me to organise mine and Esmé’s gear.
I stepped into my harness. As I tightened the straps, she stared at me intently. Her gaze set off every nerve under my skin. Happy with my fit, I reached behind to hand her the smaller harness. “Your turn.”
“What? I have to put it on myself?”
“Sure, just like I did.”
She glanced around at the other participants as they stepped into their own equipment.
“I … um … okay.” Esmé stepped into her harness, tethering the strap around her waist.
“See, it’s not that hard. Now you tighten it a little.”
Her hand flew to the clip at her navel.
“Not too tight, but it should be snug,” I said.
She tugged at the strap. “Not too tight?”
I nodded. “Snug, but comfortable.” I adjusted my own gear, and her eyes followed the movement.
After a pause, she fumbled with the fastening, glancing around at the instructors helping the other zip liners. “Do you think you could …” Her voice faltered. “Help me?”
My chest tightened at her request. “Of course.” I stepped closer, the space between us vanishing. I hovered my outstretched hands somewhere near her waist. “May I?”. My heart pulsed hard in my chest.
Esmé nodded, and I reached for the strap, tightening it slowly. Her waist was smaller than I’d imagined, and the warmth of her skin radiated through the fabric of her top. My fingers lingered as I double-checked the fit and she watched me, her lips parted slightly.
Happy with her waist buckle, I dropped to my knees to adjust the straps on her thighs. The curve of her legs was within reach, her skin tantalisingly close. I swallowed hard, forcing my attention on the harness
“May I?” I asked again, my voice a little huskier this time.
Her cheeks flushed a light pink. “Please.”
As I worked, her gaze burned down at me. When I glanced up, I swear she wasn’t breathing .
“All done,” I said, standing—needing the distance. “Perfect,” I added, running my eyes over her one last time. “You’re all set.”
She wrinkled her nose and shoved the helmet I’d given her onto her head. “If ‘all set’ means completely terrified, then you’re right.”
Grimacing, she spun on her boots and trudged down the path to the course like I’d just handed her a one-way ticket to walk the plank.
I watched her go, butterflies in my stomach. I adored the way she put a brave face on her fear, But I didn’t know what worried me more?—navigating her safely through the ziplines or my ability to keep my mind on the course.