Chapter 2 #2
We were at a small table, cramped in the corner, so I didn’t have to lean far to hold out the cup for him. He wrapped his large hand around my wrist, steadying me, as he took a sip. But his gaze didn’t leave mine and I let out a breath.
“Beautiful.”
“Leif,” I whispered.
“What? The coffee tastes beautiful.”
“You with the lines.”
“I have no idea what I’m doing Brooke. I didn’t mean to meet you.”
I swallowed hard, my throat tight. “Same here. Where are you taking me next?”
“Just wait and see.”
* * *
A week later.
“Okay, Angelina’s hot chocolate really was worth it. I think I’m going to die of sugar overload, but it was totally worth it.”
“I’m glad we saved up for it,” Leif said with a laugh. “Ready for our dinner cruise on the Seine?”
“We’re going full tourist and romance, aren’t we?”
“Damn straight. My exams are over and all I need to do is finish this painting.” Left unsaid was then our time would be complete. This summer fling would end, and we would go our separate ways.
And I didn’t want that. How could I?
“Now what’s your favorite kind of cheese?” Leif asked.
“I don’t know, cheddar?”
Leif paused and turned to me slowly. “Excuse me? You don’t know your favorite type of cheese?”
I blinked up at him. “Is this one of those personality tests that I’m failing? Is cheese that important?”
Leif put a hand over his chest and took two staggering steps back. “Brooke, baby. Of course it is. Cheese is life.”
“I thought you were from Colorado, not Wisconsin.”
“The Montgomery motto is all about cheese. And loving each other and being good family members and caring for one another, but it’s mostly about the cheese.”
“Your family scares me.”
“Maybe the sheer multitude of them, but they won’t hate you if you don’t like cheese.”
“I never said I didn’t like cheese. It’s that I’ve never really thought about what kind of cheese I like. I just like it. If I order a burger, I get cheese on it.”
“There’s at least that. One of my uncles married a woman that is lactose intolerant. Family events are hard for her.”
“I can only imagine. Don’t worry, I could eat all the dairy. And now I need to know what your kind of favorite cheese is.”
“Honestly, I’m a triple cream brie, or a goat cheese fan. Any soft cheeses. But when my family and I took a trip to Spain, I fell in love with the hard cheeses there.”
“Is there a list or a spreadsheet I should look into for your family members and what cheeses they like?”
“I know you’re joking, but my uncle Wes actually made one.” His lips twitched, and I nearly tripped, laughing so hard as we walked down the garden path.
“When did you know you wanted to be a tattoo artist?”
“Probably around the time that I met my dad.”
“You were ten, right? When you found out who your dad was?” I couldn’t imagine not having known who my parents truly were until that age.
“Yep. I found out after my mom died, and I decided to show up on my dad’s doorstep, at the tattoo shop rather than his house because that was the only place I could find on the internet.
Not the smartest thing to do as a ten-year-old.
The foster family I’d been staying with at the time freaked out but then were eager to let me go. ”
“Were you a troublemaker?”
“Maybe? I just wasn’t happy. And I didn’t even know my dad existed, but then he did, and he was fucking scary.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“He was a big dude, bigger than me, broad shoulders, huge beard, and covered in tattoos. Like completely covered. I thought he was some deranged biker who was going to murder me. But then again, that was probably better than some of the foster families I had met along the way.”
“And he wasn’t a scary deranged murderer?” I asked, oddly worried even though I knew that couldn’t be true.
“Not at all. He was a softy. A good man. And he met my stepmom around the time he met me. And we just fell into one another. I love my family, and it keeps growing day by day. I don’t know what I would do without them.”
“I don’t know what I would do with such a big family. I mean, it was just me and my parents for so long.”
“It can be a lot. They’re always in your business, always wanting to know what’s going on. Having something for myself, something that nobody else knows, is a novelty.”
“So you haven’t told them about the random American girl you met in Paris?”
We stood underneath a lamplight, the moon beginning to rise, the Eiffel Tower doing its sparkle thing that it loved to do.
“No. Not because I’m hiding you, but because I don’t want to break this. Ruin this moment with so many questions. Does that make sense?”
I swallowed hard and put my hand over his chest. “Nobody knows about you either. Not even the girls.”
His eyes widened. “Really?”
“They’re all with their guys, and they think that I like to go on long walks by myself, or stay the night in random places. But no, I just want this moment with you because I don’t know what I’m doing.”
He slid his hand behind my hair. “I don’t know what I’m doing either.”
“Okay. That sounds good.”
And then his lips were on mine, and I couldn’t breathe.
This moment would end soon, I knew it. There was a fraction of time before reality would settle in. But I didn’t want to think of reality. I only wanted to think of him.
* * *
The next day.
“You’re all packed up,” I said, my throat tight.
“Yes, but I have a couple more days. I wanted to make sure that I didn’t have to spend time packing when I could just be with you. Which sounds ridiculous, and presumptuous, but here we are.”
“I don’t want to think about tomorrow. Or the next day.” An urgency washed through me, and my hands shook.
“We won’t. We’ll just think about now.” I put my hands on his chest, and I went to my tiptoes.
“Will you draw me like one of your French girls?” I whispered, fluttering my eyelashes. His eyes widened before he burst out laughing.
“I thought I was the one that kept using the Jack Dawson lines.”
“Let me go with Rose then. What do you say?”
“They’ll just be for me,” he whispered as his hands slid up my shirt. Goosebumps pebbled over my flesh and I swallowed hard. When his hand continued to move up to cup my breast, I arched into him.
“Leif,” I whispered.
“Shh,” he muttered against my lips. “Let me take my time. And then set you up exactly how I want you.”
“Well, now I’m nervous.” I blushed.
“Don’t be. I’ll take care of you.” He met my gaze. “Trust me, Brooke.”
I shook in his arms but nodded.
I trusted him with everything that I was. In that moment, there was no other answer.
But reality circled us, and this moment would end.
Only I let myself dream of a future that could be, where we wouldn’t part. And as he slid off my clothes, and I lay on his bed, I pretended the world would make sense in the morning. Because I knew this beginning would slowly become an ending, and I did not want to break in his arms.