Page 29 of Love in Bloom

CHAPTER SEVEN

Eryignac & Marqueyssac

Camille stepped into the shower and let the hot water work its magic in unwinding her muscles. She hadn’t slept well, not because the bed was uncomfortable in the Le Grand Balcon Hotel, but because Tristan was in the room and he was a restless sleeper. In the suite in Sainte-Maxime a door had separated them. Toulouse was a new adventure.

She leaned her head against the tile wall, soaking in the hot water. They hadn’t shared a bed. The room was equipped with a pallet that pulled out from the wall. It was narrower than a twin bed. How Tristan had slept on it, she’d never know. It couldn’t have been comfortable. She felt guilty and contemplated letting him share the other half of the king-sized bed. But an invitation like that could be misconstrued, and she didn’t want Tristan to think she was inviting him into bed with her.

Camille tilted her head back into the spray to wash her hair. She massaged in the shampoo.

All night she’d listened to Tristan breathe. In and out, her own breathing falling into rhythm with his. At one point he let out several moans and a whimper. Tristan tossed and turned as if he were trying to avoid something. She threw the covers off to go to him. The noises subsided, and she pulled the covers back over herself.

What kind of nightmares haunted his sleep? Were they the reason he jumped so badly in Sainte-Maxime?

Maybe if he could open up about them to her, she could help him.

She rinsed out the shampoo, applied conditioner, and lathered her body with soap. A lavender scent filled the glass shower stall. She should’ve taken a bath last night to relax, but she’d been too tired. After four hours on the bus, they arrived at the hotel. She and Tristan took a short walk to the Basilique Saint-Sernin to stretch their legs and to admire the exquisite church. After their late dinner, they climbed into bed.

Too many thoughts occupied her mind and kept sleep away. Mrs. Chan’s accusations and Tristan’s vague answers left her unable to settle, despite the fatiguing day of travel and sight-seeing.

Camille rinsed and turned off the shower.

She hoped today would be less taxing. The sights were only thirty minutes apart. She could stretch her legs more.

After dressing and getting ready for the day, she exited the bathroom quietly in case Tristan still slept.

Facing the window, he sat on the floor with his legs crossed and his wrists resting on his knees. She shuffled around the bed to him. His eyes were closed.

He opened his eyes and smiled at her. “Come join me.” He patted the floor next to him.

That smile caused a little flutter in her abdomen. She sank next to him. “What are you doing?”

“Meditating.”

“Why?”

“I find it helps clear my head, centers me for the day. Gets rid of unwelcome thoughts.”

“Like the ones bothering you last night?”

His smile faded, and he focused his gaze on the view outside the window. “I’m sorry if I disturbed you. Sometimes I don’t sleep well.”

She rested her hand in his. “Will you tell me about them? Sometimes talking it over makes them seem less frightening, makes the demons go away.”

His mouth formed a hard line. “I wish that was true.”

She squeezed his hand. “Have you spoken to someone before?”

He nodded. “I went through something difficult in Singapore. I don’t like to talk about it. I spent quite a bit of time in therapy working through it. Some things are just too painful, even with therapy.” He swallowed. “I only have a few more minutes before I need to get ready or we’ll be late. Will you sit and breathe with me?”

“Sure.” In and out Camille breathed, matching her timing with his. Usually an exercise like that would have her going mad on the inside for activity. She hated to be sedentary. She liked to be up and doing. But sitting on the floor with Tristan, her hand in his, she felt a sliver of peace enter her heart. It was unfamiliar but not unwelcome. She turned the calm feeling over, examining it, trying to figure it out.

A soft alarm sounded, and Tristan let go of her hand to turn it off. “Thanks for meditating with me. You’re welcome to join me anytime.”

“I’d like that.” She ducked her head, momentarily shy. Camille had never felt shy in her life. It was a strange sensation. She wondered if that was how Clara felt all the time. “I’ll pack up while you get ready.”

Tristan grabbed his clothes off the top of his mostly packed suitcase and scuttled into the bathroom.

Camille checked the time and called Clara. The call went through. “Morning, little sister.”

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