Page 67 of The Secrets We Left Behind
“Is it wrong that I’d rather stay here with you?”
She pushed her bowl away, heat rising in her body and flooding her cheeks. “It’s not,” she said. “If I’m honest, I’ve gone from being so worried about having you all here to feeling heartbroken at the idea of you leaving.”
“All of us, or just me?” he asked, his voice gruff now.
“I’ve grown very close to Cate so I’ll certainly miss her, but you, well, you’re different, I suppose.”Different? Why had she even said that word to describe him?
“Elise, it’s not easy for me being here,” he admitted, clasping his palms together and leaning forward. “I’m in here hiding while your beautiful country is being overtaken by Nazis. Everything Ifought for, everything my friends gave their lives for, it seems like it was for nothing. And there’s nothing I can do about it.” His voice dropped. “I’ve never felt like a coward before, but the way I encouraged your sister to see that commander while I hide in here myself—”
“It’s forgiven,” Elise interjected, realizing in that moment that she was no longer angry with him, not now that she understood how he was feeling. “I’m not angry with you, Harry, because my sister made her own mind up. Whatever I felt toward you at the time was because it was easier to blame you than her.” She swallowed. “Or myself.”
She watched the heavy rise and fall of his chest.
“Truth be told, I think she fell a little bit in love with him that day she took Peter, and that’s on her. That washerdecision, not yours.”
“But if I hadn’t come here in the first place, if I hadn’t put this burden on you—”
Elise shook her head. “They’re stationed here, Harry. Don’t you see? He would have crossed paths with her sometime, seen her long blonde hair and beautiful blue eyes, fallen for those full lips of hers that curve into a smile. This is not on you, or me or Cate or Peter.”
She could see now that Adelaide was going to tread her own path, and all she could do was try to guide her as best she could.
“I’m used to leading men into battle, taking charge, being in control of my destiny,” Harry said, his head falling into his hands. “And today, instead of doing that, I stayed at home and made soup and sent you to war on my behalf.”
Elise laughed, her hand flying to cover her mouth, embarrassed that she was laughing when Harry looked so broken.
“It wasn’t supposed to be amusing, seeing a man at breaking point,” he said dryly.
“I’m sorry, Harry, I’m so sorry, it’s just—” She stifled a laugh again. “Well, it wasparticularlygood soup, so I was only wondering if you’d found your true calling in the kitchen!”
His lips kicked up into a smile. “Oh, that’s funny, is it? A man pours his heart out, and you tell him that he may as well give up and just make soup? Is that how you see me?”
They both started to laugh then, Elise wiping at her eyes as Harry pushed to his feet, his arm no longer held in the sling.
“It’s not funny,” he said.
Elise was still smiling. “Oh, but it was. I haven’t laughed, truly laughed, for such a long time. I can barely remember the version of me that even laughed so freely.”
“You look beautiful when you laugh,” he said, his eyes suddenly serious. “I’ll have to find some more recipes so I can see this side of you more often.”
He moved slowly, deliberately, to sit close to her on the edge of the table. In an instant, everything seemed to have changed between them.
“Come to me,” he said, his arm at his side, his smile warm. He wasn’t pulling her, pressuring her, reaching for her, just sitting and inviting her to come to him.
Elise’s legs moved of their own accord. She should have shaken her head and brushed off his advances, but she was being drawn to him like a bee to pollen. She wanted this. She wanted to have something just for her, something to feel good about. Something to make her forget everything else.
Her steps were hesitant, her eyes avoiding his as if somehow she’d lose all her confidence if she looked at him, truly looked at him.
But suddenly she was there, in front of him, breathing heavily, as he opened his legs slightly, giving her room to walk into him. Harry slowly lifted a hand, palm open, fingers outstretched, andher own palm fitted against his like a glove, skin alive to his touch, craving more.
He was everything she’d ever wanted and nothing like she’d imagined all at once. He wasn’t a French man from a nice family within a day’s travel of her home, not someone she’d been able to swoon over and whisper about to her mama and sister. But he was a good man, a brave man, a soldier who’d seen so much and could still be so gentle to her, a soldier who might be from another country but who seemed to understand her like no other man had before.
“I don’t want to leave here, on that boat,” he whispered as he slowly pulled her closer, his breath warm against her cheek. “I know it’s crazy, but I want to stay.With you.”
She shut her eyes, breathing in the scent of him. “It is crazy. You can’t.”
“But what if I did?”
She answered his question the only way she knew how: with a kiss. Her lips seemed to know what they were doing, parting and pressing against his, moving slowly at first and then faster, hungrily, as her arms lifted and looped around his neck.
