Chapter Twenty-Eight #3
He stopped and looked down at her, brushing her hair over her shoulders and putting a hand on her face. “Very much so. If that’s all right with you.”
“It is.” She smiled up at him. Here in Paris, the world was her oyster, and the pearl was this man she’d never expected.
Maybe this would be a romance that would run its course, like the one that had burned out between her mother and father.
Or maybe it would be a flame that would glow for nearly a century, like the love between Henry and Celeste.
Either way, she knew in the depth of her soul that it would change her life.
“What are you thinking?” Nadim asked, staring into her eyes as his thumb brushed gently against her lower lip.
“I’m thinking,” she said, “that I’d really like you to hurry up with that kiss.”
“I thought you’d never ask,” he said. This time, when he tilted her chin up and lowered his mouth to hers, there were no more words that needed to be said.
They were just a girl and a boy in the shadow of the Eiffel Tower.
And finally, an ocean away from where she’d been raised, it felt to Kayla like she was exactly where she’d always belonged.
Jackson came offstage at the end of the show after two exhilarating encores, the cheers of the crowd still echoing through La Défense.
He had done it. He had held the crowd in the palm of his hand, just as he had been able to do thirty years before. He was back, and his feeling of relief was vast.
But none of that mattered. Not really. What mattered was whether Julia would be waiting for him in the greenroom, or whether she had left when the show had ended.
He had tried not to watch her throughout the show, to focus on the rest of the audience, too, but he’d caught her eye several times, and each time, she’d been smiling. He hoped that was a good sign.
He jogged toward the greenroom now, desperate to know if she was there. As he hurried through the door, he stopped short, relief coursing through him, along with hope.
There she was, standing in the middle of the room.
Her daughter was there, too, along with two young guys he didn’t know, but he assumed one was the waiter Piper was seeing.
It was why he’d left four tickets and backstage passes, on the off chance that they’d brought Piper’s waiter or anyone else along.
And in a moment, he would turn the rock-star charm back on and greet all of them and be the perfect greenroom host.
But for now, all that mattered was Julia.
“I’m sorry,” was the first thing he said, and she nodded slowly.
“Why did you tell me your name was Sam?” she asked.
He shook his head, feeling like an idiot.
“Honestly? I don’t know. It’s the name I used to use to check into hotels when I was on tour, and it was just what came out of my mouth.
Once I said it, and I realized you didn’t know who I was, I felt like I could be myself.
I—I hadn’t felt like that in a really long time, and then, afterward, I wanted to tell you, but I didn’t know how. ”
“You could have been yourself with me no matter what your name was,” Julia said softly.
“And I know that now.” He took her hands, and he was encouraged when she didn’t pull away. “I also need you to know that I wasn’t running from what you told me the other day. I left so abruptly because I didn’t want you to see me cry.”
“You cried?”
“I cried,” he confirmed. “I lost my dad to cancer, and I needed to untangle that in my own head before I could show up for you. I tried to pull myself together in the bathroom, but when I came back up…”
“I was gone,” she filled in. “I didn’t give you a chance.”
“I don’t think I earned my chance,” he said. “But I hope I have now. I hope, at least, that you’ll listen to what I have to say.”
She swallowed hard. “You wrote a song for me.”
“I told you that you inspired me,” he said with a smile. “But that’s not what I want to say now.”
“It isn’t?”
“No. What I want to say now is that I want to be here. With you. For all of it.”
Her eyes filled with tears. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
“Yes. Julia, I think I’m falling in love with you, and it’s not fair that we won’t get years together. But if you’ll have me, I’ll take whatever time is left. I’ll do everything I can to make your life better—and to make sure your daughter is okay. And I’ll never, ever, walk away again.”
“Jackson, I’m dying,” she whispered. “These next few months will be hard.”
“I know.”
“The end might be terrible.”
“I know.”
“You’re sure about this?”
“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my entire life.”
Her tears spilled over, rolling down each cheek, and he wiped them gently away with his thumbs. “So what now?” she asked softly.
“Now,” he said, cupping her face in his hands and thinking how very lucky he was to have even a moment with this woman. “Now is the part where I kiss you.”
And he did. And she kissed him back. And for the first time in his life, he understood why people wrote love songs, because it was impossible not to want to put into words the magic and the possibility of a moment like this, a moment that he knew would stay with him forever.