“We’ll keep it PG,” Lila said, smiling. “I just want you by my side tonight. Maybe it’ll help us sleep.”
I doubted having her warm, sexy self next to me was going to inspire sleep, but I kept that to myself.
“Are you sure?” I asked instead.
“The girls are asleep. And we’re adults.”
I stood, offering her my hand, pulling her to her feet. She led me up the stairs quietly, careful not to wake the girls. At her bedroom door, she paused.
“We can keep the door cracked a little, in case Margot needs you,” Lila whispered.
“Good plan.”
We slipped into her small but beautiful bedroom—white linens, soft light from a lamp on the nightstand, a window overlooking the garden. The bed was unmade from where she’d been lying in it, unable to sleep.
She climbed in on one side, pulling back the covers for me.
I hesitated. The moment felt important, but I wasn’t sure why. Earlier, I’d changed into a pair of sweatpants, and now I felt too warm. But I didn’t dare suggest I take them off. She seemed to read my mind.
“You’ll be too warm. Do you have a pair of boxers on underneath?” she asked, a glint of mischief in her eyes.
“I do. I’m not barbaric.”
That made her giggle. “Take off your pants and get in here.”
I did as she asked. I mean, really, who was I to disagree with the lady of the house?
I stripped them off, folding them neatly on the chair by the window. One of the bedside lamps remained on, casting a gentlelight, but I turned it off before slipping between the sheets. She immediately curled into me, her head on my chest, her arm around my waist.
“This feels right,” Lila said. “Having you here with me.”
“It does. Strangely enough.”
“I haven’t shared my bed with anyone but Mia since Carter left. So it’s a big deal. Thanks for not rejecting me.”
“I can’t imagine a world where I ever would,” I said, stroking her silky hair.
We lay like that for a while, her breathing gradually slowing, her body relaxing against mine.
“Tell me something about your life in Paris. I’ve always wanted to go.” Lila traced a small circle on my chest with her finger. “What did you love about it?”
I thought for a moment. “There are so many things I loved about that city. Sunday mornings at this little market in the Marais—all these vendors with their cheeses and breads and vegetables. Before I met Nicole, I’d spend every Sunday looking at the goods, buying something to eat that evening.”
“What did you choose most often?”
“One of the stands sold these baguette sandwiches. Just butter. But they melted in your mouth.”
“I remember from your profile,” Lila said.
“I still dream about those sandwiches.”
“Do you ever wish you could go back? Or that you’d stayed?”
“No. It was time to come home to my mother—and the hope that I might somehow see Margot again. If I’d known you were here, Lila Morgan, I would’ve been on that plane years ago.”
She was quiet for a moment. “It’s odd to think of you there, all those years. And me here, hiding away. Playing it safe.”
“Timing’s everything,” I said. “This was when we were supposed to meet.”
