Page 58 of Enemies to French Kisses
Why was he never likethatat work?
Marc takes another deep breath, and a look comes across his face like it did earlier. I have a feeling something profound is about to emerge, like he’s consciously taking the armor off that he used to put on so easily.
“I like that you’re jealous.” His cheeks pull into a sincere though timid smile. Meanwhile, my stomach is doing a version of Swan Lake.
“You do?” I twist my toe on the floor like I used to at school when I worked up the courage to take to the boy I was crushing on. Only then I wasn’t wearing a dress worth several thousands and heels that would give Marilyn Monroe a run for her money.
“I don’t say it the way I should, not as often as I should.” Marc licks his lips and all the swans just fainted in my belly. He steps closer, my hand involuntarily rising to his shoulder. “You’re an incredible woman, Laura. And I am the luckiest man alive to be here, right now, with you. I don’t know why I couldn’t say everything as soon as I felt it, why I had to hide behind a glass shield.” He sighs, the effort of his honesty apparent in the lines on his face. “I should have done better. And I will do better in the future. I promise.”
I bite my bottom lip, because what on earth am I going to say to that? I thought that my current feelings were various shades of guilt for sending him into a strange state of amnesia, but there’s no denying it now.
What I feel is a whole lot more.
“I’m sorry—” I begin, but I can’t find the right words.
“Sorry?” he repeats. His eyebrows fall with hurt and my heart is wrenching.
“I’m sorry for all the times I didn’t listen, when I assumed you were one thing and it turned out you were far from it.” Gosh darn it, all kinds of truth are coming out now… “I don’t like it when you act all charming with those ladies, because I only want those tender brown eyes on me.”
We’re both breathing heavily now, and if his pulse is anything like mine, it’s racing a thousand miles a minute. He reaches forward and entwines his fingers in mine, warmth washing over me like every midsummer morning back home. I have no idea what’s going to happen next, but this moment—right here in the middle of the most glamorous event I could imagine with his hand holding mine—is perfection.
I don’t want it to end.
“Maaaaaarc!”
Music rises around us and bodies slink by on their way to the bar. Life clicks back into action, the magic of the past moment lingering like fairy dust even as Marc looks over the crowd for the origin of the voice calling his name.
He leans his head alongside mine and speaks into my ear, his breath casting shivers down my spine. “There’s more I need to say to you. This is just the beginning.”
“Maaaaarc!”
I nod and flash a quick smile, using every ounce of my willpower not to launch myself into his arms.
“It’s Gabriel and Amelie.” He points but I don’t know who I’m looking for. “I have to introduce you…” A funny look comes over his face. “Are you okay being here? I didn’t ask. I didn’t even think to ask. How selfish of me.” He blinks and then adds, “You—don’t know Gabriel and Amelie—do you?”
Recognition. It’s starting to come to him for real. And we’re in the middle of a major event with cameras at every turn and a good couple hundred of people. It won’t make for a soft landing if now is the moment reality comes rushing back.
“No,” I place my hand on his arm to reassure him. “I haven’t met them. I’d love to.”
“I haven’t seen them in ages. And Charlotte is with them.” The corners of his mouth turn downward.
“Charlotte, the old friend who stopped by, right?”
A cheeky smile comes across Marc’s face as he looks back at me and kisses my cheek. “I love hearing you jealous. But let me go alone first to Gabriel and Amelie. Who knows what Charlotte has told them. I might need to sort out some intentional misunderstandings.”
“Sounds like fun.”
“Fun like a vengeful dentist. I’ll be quick. Why don’t you stay here and get us champagne? After this conversation, I’m going to need it.” He tucks my hair behind my ear. “Wish me luck.”
“Good—” I start, but he’s already winding through the crowd, “—luck.”
CHAPTER24
Marc
Her blonde hairis pulled back in a sleek bun, and she's wearing a black cocktail dress that hugs her curves in all the right places. As I approach, she turns to greet me with a smile, but it's quickly replaced by a scowl.
"Marc," she says, her voice dripping with disdain. "Fancy seeing you here."
