Page 54 of Love in Bloom

“More like run and tackle what I want.”

“One of the many qualities I admire about you.”

“Is there a list? I must hear it.”

He squeezed her hand. “Not now. We need to hear all about the house.”

“We could be naughty and sneak away.”

“And spend the rest of our marriage hearing about how you missed touring Monet’s house when we were in Giverny. Not a chance.”

Camille looked away, pretending to be interested in the leaves of a nearby tree. The words, the rest of our marriage, echoing in her head. Today and tomorrow were all the time she had left to be with Tristan. The dull ache in her chest grew another size.

“Camille?” He pressed his thumb into the back of her hand.

“The house, right. Of course.” She raised her eyes to study the charming cottage before her. It was pink with green shutters, and a climbing vine covered most of the front but was trimmed away to let light in the windows.

They trailed the group inside.

Camille felt eyes boring into her. She knew without looking it was Mrs. Chan. She had the sickening feeling that woman wasn’t done trying to shred Camille’s opinion of Tristan.

Camille ignored her and concentrated on the house. “I love the blue in here,” she whispered to Tristan about the sitting room. “I think it would make a wonderful eye-shadow palette.”

“Dear Camille, always thinking business even when she’s not supposed to.” He kissed the back of her hand.

She heard a hiss to the left and made the mistake of looking for the source of the noise.

Through slitted eyes, Mrs. Chan grimaced at her.

“Why is she so intent on ruining us?”

“Ignore, Camille. Ignore.”

“It’s difficult when she’s hissing like a cat at us.”

“She’s jealous of our marriage. Have you noticed how she and her husband treat one another? I’ve seen too much of how that type live to want any part of it.”

Camille admired the Japanese prints gracing the walls of the house. “It’s interesting that Monet found so much inspiration in the Japanese culture that it inspired him to create some of France’s greatest art.”

“I guess it proves that inspiration can come from anywhere.”

“Was that so bad?” Tristan asked as they exited the house.

“No, it gave me some ideas for when I return home. Can you snap a picture of me with the house?”

“Of course.”

“I’ll take that,” Mrs. Kollman opened her hand for the phone. “It’ll be better with both of you in it.”

Tristan placed the phone in her hand and joined Camille.

He wrapped his arm around her waist, and she felt the heady rush that Tristan’s touch inspired.

Mrs. Kollman snapped a few pictures. “One with a kiss?” She arched a brow. “It is your honeymoon.” She waved the phone at them.

“Perhaps we should oblige her, just this once.” Tristan turned Camille into his arms. “For posterity’s sake.”

“We have a posterity to think of?” she teased him, sliding her hands around his neck and clasping them together.

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