PART 6- CHAPTER 195
JESS
By the end of the night, the art exhibition had transformed into a bit of a blur, a dazzle of colors, chatter and too many glasses of champagne, courtesy of Laura and her charming determination to lift my spirits. We’d been laughing our way through the last gallery room when he appeared–a tall, dark–haired Frenchman who seemed to radiate that effortless Parisian confidence, his smile subtle and warm, his laugh low and lingering.
“Enchanté,” he murmured when Laura nudged me, his eyes holding mine a bit longer than seemed polite. His English was thick, with a French accent. He’d said something that made me laugh, something witty enough that I didn’t hesitate when he offered me his arm and asked if I’d like to continue the evening with him. Laura’s knowing wink was the final push.
Now, as we stumbled up the winding, dimly lit staircase to Laura’s apartment, we tripped on the final stair, collapsing against each other with laughter and shushed voices, a tangle of hands and dizzy, shared glances. He leaned into me, his breath warm on my cheek, his hand drifting to the small of my back as I fumbled for my key, his lips a mere inch from mine.
He chuckled, the sound low and smooth. “You are… charmingly terrible at this,” he teased, his fingers brushing mine as he took the key from my hand and tried it himself. For a second, I allowed myself to fall into hist gaze, an intoxicating blend of amusement and attraction, his touch steady against my waist. It had been so long since I’d let anyone this close, and the champagne made everything feel just a bit more surreal.
The door finally gave way, and we tumbled inside, bumping into the wall with giggles that we tried to quiet but couldn’t quite manage. His hands lingered at my hips as he steadied me, then leaned in, his lips a whisper
PART & CHAPTER 195
away from mine. A flicker of nerves ran through me, and my instinct kicked in–I tilted my head away, laughing it off, making it seem casual even though my heart thudded in my chest. I needed a second. A breath.
“Wait,” I said with a smirk, making my way to the kitchen. “First, drinks.”
I could feel his curious gaze on me as I grabbed a bottle of wine and poured a glass. The room felt too quiet and loaded with expectations, and I could feel an unsettling hesitation.
His eyes tracked my every movement, studying me with a slight tilt of his head. The idea that I was really here, really about to do this, settled heavily in my mind.
I took a long sip, then another, letting the warmth of the wine push back the memories that kept clawing their way to the surface. Luke. It was like his ghost was haunting every corner of this city, lingering in every shadow, every familiar place where I felt just a bit too much like myself.
He was woven into every memory, his smirk, his laughter, the way his touch could set my skin on fire with a single brush. It was like trying to scrub ink from my skin, and no matter how much I drank or how hard I tried, I couldn’t seem to erase him.
But tonight, I’d finally had enough.
Tonight, I’d drown him out. Tonight, I’d bury him with a memory of my own making. I glanced over at the Frenchman–Marc, maybe?-his gaze
was warm. a
there was a spark of interest and something else in his eyes. He was here, ready, and he was nothing like Luke, which was exactly what I needed. He was patient, giving me the space to make up my mind, and he didn’t know my past, didn’t come with the baggage that
seemed to trail my every thought back home.
With one last sip of wine, I felt the courage settle inside me, a simmering decision that tonight, I would do this. I was going to erase Luke, no
PART & CHAPTER 195
matter how hard it was. So I set my glass down, crossed the room, and closed the distance between us in one breathless moment, my lips finding his before I could even second–guess myself.
He was surprised at first, his breath catching, but then he responded, hist hands finding my waist, pulling me close in a way that was both careful and confident. His kiss was warm and gentle at first but quickly gained momentum as he deepened it, drawing me in with a kind of practiced grace. His fingers traced along my back, his touch firm and steady, grounding me in the moment, chasing away the ghosts lurking in my mind’s edges.
I leaned into him, trying to lose myself in the sensation, the unfamiliar thrill of being with someone new, someone who didn’t know my history, didn’t know my heart. My fingers tangled in his hair, and I let myself forget for a moment, shutting out the lingering ache that seemed to follow me like a shadow.
This is what I need, I told myself as he pressed me back against the wall, his hands anchoring me, his kiss consuming.
But as his lips trailed down my jawline, something else flickered in, uninvited. The way he held me–so practiced, so smooth–it didn’t have the wild, maddening spark I’d once known, that same rush that Luke’s presence seemed to ignite without even trying. This was steady, calm, nothing like the raw, jagged feeling I craved. I tried to shove that thought away, tried to let Marc’s warmth envelop me, tried to cling to the sensation and push out the rest.
But in that dim room, with the lingering taste of wine on my tongue, I knew I was chasing a feeling that wasn’t there.
Someone knocked on the door, and relief washed over me. Laura –
