Chapter 25
Travis
“These are beautiful,” Alyssia tells the latest vendor who stands behind his collection of music boxes.
A strange thing occurs as I watch her place the light pink box with a spinning ballerina down and pick up another. Tunnel vision. My gaze hones in on the way she analyzes the boxes with her eyes.
I drink her in, the compulsion to outline her jaw with my finger close to overwhelming me. The need to traverse her body with my hands until she’s shivering beneath me, makes me briefly close my eyes.
Voices behind us, from another couple that’s appeared at the vendor’s table, reminds me that we’re in public. I force myself to tuck my very unpublic thoughts away for later.
“This one is beautiful, like you,” the older vendor tells Alyssia, once the other couple leaves.
She replies in French, speaking in the language he uses.
While my French isn’t the best, I understand a decent amount. It doesn’t take fluency in a language to know that he’s flirting. Especially when he winks at her.
He’s not wrong, but that’s my damn job.
“Such a pretty girl like you deserves her own music box,” he says, holding up another box. This one is a light purple with a little Black girl ballerina dressed in a purple leotard.
Alyssia turns the spring to make the music play, and the figure starts spinning. Her eyes sparkle as she watches the slow spin of the figurine with rapt attention.
“It’s so cute.”
“So are you,” he says.
“That’s enough,” I say between gritted teeth.
His eyes widen as he looks at me, feigning ignorance. I glare back, wrapping my arm around Alyssia.
“Travis,” Alyssia says in a voice similar to admonishment.
“What? He’s blatantly flirting with you.”
“Is not,” she says, frowning.
“Well, you are a beautiful woman, and if I were a few years younger,” he says in broken English, “I would—”
“Get your ass beat,” I grumble.
“Travis!” Alyssia gasps.
“He’s trying me.” I pull her closer and look down at the music boxes. “Do you want one?”
She rolls her eyes. “We should go before you get in trouble. Thank you,” she tells the vendor in French.
I glare at him when he waves at her and glares at me.
“Do you like music boxes?” I ask, feeling slight guilt for pulling her away from flirty grandpa over there.
She gives me a sideways grin. “My grandmother used to collect them,” she says, her voice filling with reverie. “I lived with her after my parents—” She stops to clear her throat. “After they were gone. Every night, she would sit in her living room with a cup of tea and play one of her music boxes.”
She pushes out a breath.
“I wish I would’ve kept one or two of hers after she passed.”
“When did she die?”
“When I was sixteen. Halfway through my junior year of high school.”
That was only two years after her accident and her parents’ death. My heart aches for teenage Alyssia who barely had time to cope with the death and upheaval caused by that accident, then her grandmother was gone.
“Is that when you went to live with your uncles?” She’s told me about her Uncle Theo and Owen.
She nods. “Uncle Theo had to retire from the Army to be there for me full-time.” A sad smile passes over her lips. “He was the only family I had left. He and Uncle Owen got married soon after. I lived with them until I went away to college.”
Now I feel like an asshole for steering her away from the music boxes.
“I’m getting hungry,” Alyssia says, grabbing her stomach. “Are you in the mood for a home-cooked meal?” She holds up the bag of fresh vegetables and bread we’ve purchased.
“Nothing in the world sounds better.”
We walk to her apartment since it’s so close.
I help prepare the pasta, sauce made from the market tomatoes, and sausage she had on hand.
She also had all of the ingredients for garlic bread.
“How’s that?” I ask, holding out a small piece of bread topped with garlic, butter, and freshly grated parmesan.
“Mm,” she hums, closing her eyes.
Every muscle in my body tightens. The next thing I know, I lean in, pressing my lips to the corner of her mouth. I stick my tongue out, licking away a crumb.
“Perfect,” I say when she shivers in my hand that rests on her hip.
“You’re brave.” Her voice is low, almost a whisper.
I lift an eyebrow.
“Going in for a kiss after I’ve eaten garlic.”
We both laugh.
“Your uncles arrive soon, right?” I ask as we eat.
She nods. “They’re excited to visit. It’s Uncle Owen’s first time in France.”
“And Monaco,” I add.
She gives me a look.
“It’s so close, they have to come to Monaco. Actually,” I say, getting an idea, “why don’t they stay in Monaco?”
“I figured they could save money staying here. Plus, I like the idea of having them close,” she says.
“Not a problem since I have a four-bedroom apartment completely at their disposal.”
Alyssia blinks. “Your place.”
“You can stay with them, too. Would make it convenient for everyone.” I keep my tone casual but internally implore her to say yes.
“That’s nice of you,” she says, something straining in her voice.
I reach across the table, taking her hand in mine. “If they want, I can get them tickets for the race, too. If they’re in town that long.”
There’s still a few weeks between now and the Monaco race.
“You’re going to be working during race weekend, right?”
She nods. “The kids are coming in to attend the race and will get to meet some of the staff.” Excitement replaces the strange look that had invaded her gaze.
“What about after work?”
“What do you mean?”
“Will you attend the race? I mean, will you attend the race for me?”
“Do you want me there?”
I feel like a fucking asshole for the doubt that shrouds her voice.
“I’m an asshole,” I confess.
She scrunches her face in confusion, and I almost want to wait longer to explain myself because I like this face. I’m finding I enjoy every one of her expressions I’ve encountered so far.
Yes, even the ones she’s made when annoyed with me for trying to control her life.
“I haven’t been clear about where I stand with you,” I say.
“What it is I feel for you. I think about you day and night. Yes, at first, it was the surprise of finding out you were carrying my child. But it’s turned into more. I don’t want you in my apartment now because it’s convenient, but because I want you close … closer to me.
“I want for there to be an us, Alyssia. Not just a you and me as co-parents.”
“Oh,” is all she says.
I remain hopeful by the fact that she doesn’t pull her hand out of my hold.
When I tug her arm, motioning for her to stand from her chair and move to sit in my lap, she comes. Reluctant at first, but she comes.
With one hand stroking up and down her back and the other trailing a path over her shoulder, the one where a large rose tattoo sits, covering the scars from the accident. The same shoulder she rubs whenever she’s nervous or frightened.
She doesn’t pull away when I touch her there.
I lean in and press a kiss to that shoulder, and even though it’s through her shirt, the little sigh she releases lets me know that she felt it as if it were skin to skin contact.
“How do we know any of this is real?” she asks.
“It’s real.”
“How do you know though? What if it’s just the circumstances that make us feel like this? Everything’s happened so quickly.” She gestures to her belly.
“I know it’s real because I’ve never wanted to know as much about a woman as I want to know about you.
It’s real because I’ve never laid awake at night thinking about another woman and wondering if they’ve eaten enough today or what their favorite type of cheese is so I can get it on their breakfast sandwich the next morning.
“I’ve never wanted to take care of anyone the way I do you. No woman has ever haunted my thoughts before every race I’ve had since I met her.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Every race?” Her hand cups my cheek, and a warmth I’ve never felt before washes over me.
I turn my head, kissing the inside of her palm. “Every. Single. Race. Since Vegas.”
“That was before you knew about the baby.” She sounds doubtful
Now I admit something I hadn’t even admitted to myself. “I’ve wanted you since then. One night wasn’t enough. I thought this feeling would go away eventually. Then I saw you in New York and I got lucky.”
She laughs. “I used to think I had the worst luck.” She sighs.
“And now?”
“Now? I want you to kiss me.”
Doesn’t take much for me to grab her face between my hands and bring our lips to together. The first proper kiss we’ve shared since Vegas.
This one is different though.
It’s so much fucking better.
I savor the taste of her as we explore, reacquainting ourselves with one another’s mouths. Unlike in the rest of my life, time with Alyssia feels unhurried, timeless.
The rest of my life moves at a clipped pace but here and now it’s just the heavy breathing sounds between kisses, the glazed look in her eyes, and the softness of her body underneath my hands.
The pressure to perform stripped away.
Alyssia pulls back. “Stay the night.”
Alyssia
“You could also stay at the apartment,” Travis says as he stands in front of the door, preparing to leave.
He has to head out early for a meeting.
We spent the entire night kissing, cuddling, and sleeping. The best night I’ve had in a very long time. Since Vegas.
“With my uncles?”
“And after.”
I go to tell him that I have an apartment, but he cups my face, kissing me before I can say anything.
“Think about it,” he says, his voice imploring. There’s a look in his eyes as if he wants to say more but doesn’t. “Please.”
The desire to tell him I can take care of myself dies on my tongue with that one word.
“I’ll think about it,” I say, but it feels more like a ‘yes.’
The grin on Travis’ face indicates he gets the same impression.
Yet, I don’t feel my heartbeat turn up or a churning in my belly when I think about possibly giving up my apartment to move into his place. This time it doesn’t feel like I’ll be losing a part of myself, but gaining something I’m not ready to put into words.
“That’s all I ask.” He kisses me again, which I give into willingly.
Then he lowers his hands to my belly. “Oh shit!” he blurts out, and I giggle.
“Did you feel that?” he asks, eyes going wide. “Is that …”
“Yup, it’s our little one.” I cover his hand with mine. “They’ve been doing it more and more lately.”
He marvels at the feel of the baby moving in my belly, and I revel at the light in his eyes. Travis surprises me when he bends down and kisses my belly.
“I love you,” he tells the baby.
Now, my heart does speed up.
A yearning in my belly starts and I fight to suppress it.
Before I know it, Travis kisses me again. “I hate having to leave so early.” The regret in his voice is evident.
“It’s okay. I have to work anyway,” I remind him, though I’m working from home today.
He gives me another kiss before leaving, his gaze hanging on me until the very last moment the door closes.
I couldn’t wipe the smile from my face even if I wanted to.
But when I look over at the entryway table, my breath hitches.
Sitting on the table is the purple music box with the little Black ballerina.
My heart smiles as I twist the spring. My eyes mist over as the sounds of classical music fill the air and the ballerina starts dancing.
“When did he have time to buy this?” I whisper.