Page 33 of Cognac Secrets

I paved the way double-time for our nighttime adventure we were about to embark on by jumping on my phone and browsing, settling on and booking a room for us for tonight.

I was just starting to get antsy, beginning to worry she wasn’t going to come back outside, when she reappeared, slipping through the garden gate to the back and turning back around to latch it behind her.

She had a beat-up, old and fraying, slouchy backpack type bag slung over one shoulder. It looked like some sort of crudely handstitched thing that may have been homemade from her youth. She turned and came back up to me and looked almost shy, apologizing profusely.

“I’m so sorry I took so long,” she started, and I reached out and threaded my fingers through hers, towing her in and putting my arms around her.

“Don’t apologize,” I told her. “You took as long as you needed to. While you did, I booked us a room.”

“Oh, really?” she asked.

“Really,” I said back and I searched her face. “You know you can change your mind at any time and I won’t be mad, right?”

I felt a small amount of tension ease out of her frame and she looked resolute when she said, “I’m not going to change my mind. I want this. It’s just… first-time jitters, I guess.”

I smiled at her and said, “I don’t think you could disappoint me if you tried.”

Something in her expression looked surprised by that, and then softened to the point I think I’d done something by saying that. I wasn’t sure what, though.

“Where we headed?” she asked.

“I booked in The Quarter at the Dauphine Orleans,” I said. “Close to where you work. A straight shot.”

Her eyes widened.

“That’s an expensive place,” she said and I shook my head.

“I can afford it,” I said. “I’m going to start looking for a better place, too, so I can host. But for now, this will do.”

“You don’t have to do that,” she said and I cocked my head.

“Do what?”

“Upend your whole life for me! Or go to such an extravagant expense.”

“Why not?” I asked.

“I’m…” she looked away, her gaze far away and she sniffed. “I’m not worth it.”

I kissed her forehead and murmured against her skin, “I beg to differ, and its high time I got off my bullshit and found a permanent place. It’s not for you, it’s for me. And it’s more than time,” I told her.

“Just promise you aren’t going to all this trouble for me.”

I looked at her and she had her eyes closed, a solemn expression on her face. I smiled and gripped her a little tighter and said, “It’s for me. I promise. I think you just opened my eyes a little that I’m stuck and I can’t stay there forever. You know? I got a little too comfortable.”

“You mean, like I did a good thing?” she asked, puzzled, like the notion hadn’t ever occurred to her that she could. I wondered just how she’d been raised because goddamn, so far, she was all goodness and light.

“Yeah,” I said, and she seemed… soothed by that. “You ready to go?” I asked after a heartbeat or two and she smiled and nodded.

“Absolutely.”

We got on the bike and rode back out to the French Quarter where I parked in the designated parking for our hotel. We went in and I checked in, the clerk giving me a dubious look. I handed over my card and she ran it, and seemed surprised when it went through.

She made up our keys in silence and handed them over with the bare minimum of politeness, but she kept it in line.

I took Sandrine’s hand and we went up to our room. She was in awe, taking in everything there was to see, drinking it all in with her eyes, like they’d never tasted anything so expensive in her life, and I was sure that wasn’t entirely off the mark.

Getting her into the room and into my arms was something I couldn’t wait to do and when the moment arrived, it was almost surreal.

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