Chapter Eighteen #3
“It was incredible,” she whispered.
His heart thudding, he reached down and touched her cheek and then her chin, aching to kiss her.
Summoning his courage, he slowly lowered his lips to hers, and when she responded, moving so that her body was tucked against his, he let go of her hand and pulled her close to him, cradling her head gently.
When he finally pulled away, she looked as dazed as he felt. “I hope that was okay,” he said.
“I’ve never been kissed like that, Sam.”
Hearing the false name he had given her jolted him out of the moment. If he was going to bare his soul to this woman, he needed to go all in, didn’t he? “Julia, there’s something I need to tell you.”
Something that looked like regret flitted across her face.
“There’s something I need to tell you, too.
” But just then, her phone rang, and as she fumbled in her purse for it, the moment was over.
“My daughter,” she explained before answering the call.
He took a polite step back, not wanting to intrude.
“I’m fine,” she said into the phone. “No, I just went out to dinner. Why are you back so early?” She waited for a reply and then said, “Honey, you don’t need to worry about me.
” Another pause and then she said, “I know. I know. I’ll come back now, okay? ”
Jackson’s heart sank, and he waited as she said her goodbyes to her daughter. There was so much more that he wanted—no, needed—to say to her. “Everything okay?” he asked after she’d hung up.
“Yeah. I—I didn’t realize how late it had gotten. I should get back.”
He nodded. He wanted to beg her to stay, to walk around Paris with him until the sun came up, to let him kiss her again because it made him want to write a thousand more songs about her.
But she was already moving away from him, back toward the bridge they’d crossed over to get here. “I’ll walk you to your hotel,” he said.
Hand in hand, they headed back over the Seine and turned right, strolling along the river.
The lights of Paris glowed around them, magical and warm.
“I’m sorry,” she said after a moment. “It’s just that this trip is supposed to be about Piper and me spending time together.
And I could hear it in her voice; she was worried about me. ”
“I’m a bad influence, I guess,” he joked. He took a deep breath and said, “Can I take you out tomorrow night?”
“I—I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
He glanced down at her, thrown. “I was just kidding about being a bad influence,” he said, attempting levity. “I promise, my intentions are honorable.”
“I know. I just—” She stopped abruptly, whatever she was about to say lost. “The thing is, what if this can never go further than this? What if this week was all we had? Would you still want to see me again?”
“Yes,” he said, confused. “Unless you really do have some husband or boyfriend at home…”
“I don’t,” she said immediately. “It’s just… this isn’t real life.”
“What do you mean?”
She bit her lip and looked away.
“How about Friday?” he asked after a moment, realizing a beat later that obviously he couldn’t take her out on Friday; that was the night of his concert. He’d nearly forgotten that it was why he was in Paris.
She smiled. “Actually, my daughter is taking me to a concert on Friday.”
He nearly tripped over his own two feet. “A… concert?”
“Yeah, Jackson Quick. Remember him from the nineties?”
He was so thrown, he didn’t know what to say. “And are you… a Jackson Quick fan?” Had she known who he was all along? Was this some sort of a game?
“Piper thinks I was. She planned this whole trip around the concert, thinking that he’d been my big crush in high school.”
“But… he wasn’t?”
“Nope. I was a big Jon Bon Jovi fan. I don’t know how Piper mixed it up. But it’s not like I can tell her now. She’d be so disappointed. I mean, I know ‘City of Light,’ of course. But beyond that, I couldn’t tell you anything about the guy.”
This was too strange. Now was the time to tell her, of course, to say, Speaking of Jackson Quick, I have a funny story for you.
But again, he couldn’t bring himself to do it.
“Tomorrow, then,” he said. “Whenever you can fit me in. I know you’re here with your daughter, but even if it’s a half hour for coffee at four in the morning… ”
She smiled and then seemed to consider his request. “I have dinner plans with Piper. But what about a drink beforehand? At Le Maison Grog, five o’clock?”
“I’ll be there,” he said instantly.
“This is me,” she said, stopping in front of a hotel with wooden, glass-paneled doors and light spilling out from inside. “Sam, I don’t know how to thank you. Tonight was… magic.”
“It was,” he agreed. And then he leaned in and kissed her again, softly, tenderly, and they stayed that way for a long moment before she pulled away.
“I have to go.” Were her eyes full of regret, or was that his imagination?
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said.
And with one last nod, she disappeared into the hotel, taking with her the evening’s last opportunity for truth.