Page 87 of His Surrender
“I know I am.” I slipped an arm around him. He didn’t need to say why. I knew the answer. “I basically confessed my feelings first and then checked out emotionally once you did the same.”
“But you’re here now.” He tilted his head up, staring at me with soulful eyes. “What’s in the past needs to stay there.”
“I’ll make it up to you.”
He closed his eyes and snuggled against my side, a smile on his lips. “I believe you.”
***
Three days passed so fast.
The morning after our first night, we’d lazed around in bed, giving each other slow kisses before Remi had rolled on top of me and rode me so good my toes had curled. We had then done more sightseeing, visiting the WWII museum and walking through Jackson Square. The days after that had been just as good. Beignets at Café Du Monde, going into a few voodoo shops, and visiting historical sites—it was an experience I’d hold on to forever.
And it wasn’t over yet. We still had one more day in New Orleans, and I planned to make the most of it.
“Are you worried about the trial?” Remi asked over lunch. We were eating at the M-Bistro inside the hotel, both of us getting lighter dishes since we’d eaten like shit the whole time we’d been there. We were definitely enjoying our vacation, but it wasn’t a bad idea to cut back on the carbs and fried food.
“I wouldn’t say I’m worried,” I answered before taking a drink of my iced tea. “Perhaps a bit concerned but mostly eager to get back to it. It could go either way at this point.”
“Court will resume next week?”
I nodded. “For closing statements. Then the jury deliberation will begin.”
“Do you think she’s guilty?” Remi ate more of his salad.
“I’m not sure I can answer that. From a legal standpoint, there’s evidence to suggest it was premediated and not done in self-defense as she claims. Do I believe her husband abused her and maybe drove her to kill him? Well, that’s for the jury to decide.”
“That’s what I hate about lawyers,” Remi said with a grin. “You all talk around the question instead of actually answering it.”
I winked and popped a grape into my mouth.
After lunch, we left the hotel and walked toward Bourbon Street which was only a block away. The temperature was a comfortable seventy-four degrees, and the constant breeze kept us from getting too hot under the cloudless sky. Holding his hand as we moved at a leisurely pace down the sidewalk warmed me more than the sun above us ever could.
Remi smiled as we reached the intersection of Bourbon and St. Ann Street.
During our second night in New Orleans, we’d done what all the other nocturnal partygoers did and swarmed to Bourbon Street, experiencing the party town for ourselves. Music had pounded from the establishments and echoed into the street. Neon lights lit the sidewalk, and people had hung over the balconies and called out to each other. There’d been more bead throwing.
We’d also hit up Café Lafitte in Exile, one of the oldest gay bars in the United States. The energy had been great and welcoming. We’d gone back the next night too, after checking out Fritzel’s European Jazz Club where we’d experienced traditional jazz performances and met an older gentleman named Hank, who had talked to Remi about the history of the two-hundred-year-old building.
“You wanna go back already?” I asked, nodding to the gay bar. “The sign outside says they’re having a happy hour on mimosas right now. I know you don’t drink, but I can get one for you and drink it.”
Remi chuckled. “No, I’m good. I was just remembering when we first went there a few nights ago. It was fun.”
“You sure I didn’t embarrass you when we were on the upstairs balcony and I made you dance with me to Lady Gaga?”
He snorted. “Are you kidding? After that dance, nearly every man in a fifteen-foot radius wanted a turn with you.”
Yet, I’d only had eyes for him. How far I’d come in almost three months. I felt like a different person. A better one.
“Did you bring a suit?” I casually asked, swinging our hands between us as we stopped on the sidewalk.
“Why?’ he asked with a suspicious gleam in his eyes.
“I thought we could dress up tonight and go down to the lounge for cigars and jazz.” I spun him toward my chest, making him release a surprised laugh. “Make our last night in New Orleans one we’ll never forget.”
“Every night with you is one I’ll never forget.”
I kissed him then, not caring that crowds of people were around. Remi and I hadn’t put a label on what we were since reconnecting. I’d never been anyone’s boyfriendbefore… but as I kissed him, smiling against his lips as the men standing on the balcony of the gay bar whistled and catcalled, I thoughtboyfriendsounded good to me.
