I should walk away. I should tell him that no amount of sweeping or smiling or French charm will erase what happened.
He tips his head slightly, eyes searching mine. “Tara.”
“I’m afraid of getting hurt,” I whisper.
He sets the broom aside and steps forward until we’re toe to toe. His voice drops to a whisper meant only for me. “Believe me when I tell you that I willneverhurt you again, not intentionally.”
Before I can respond, his hand slides up my arm—slow, reverent—and cups the side of my neck. His thumb traces the line of my jaw, his breath warm against my cheek.
I freeze, every muscle coiled tight.
“Gustave—”
He stops, waiting, eyes locked on mine. He’s waiting for me to give him permission, and that’s what undoes me. The patience. The quiet certainty that he’ll take no more than I give.
So, I lean in.
The kiss is soft at first—testing, cautious—but the second my lips part, it deepens. His hand slides into my hair, the other wrapping around my waist as if to remind himself I’m real, that he’s allowed to hold me again.
For a moment, the world outside the restaurant doesn’t exist. There’s no gossip, no Louvre, no Simone. Just the faint hum of the refrigerator, the brightness of lime and cilantro lingering around us, and the way my pulse races beneath his touch.
When we finally break apart, I’m breathless. His forehead rests against mine, both of us caught in that fragile space between forgiveness and desire.
“I missed you,” he says simply.
My throat tightens. “Am I going to regret this?”
He smiles wanly. “Non,mon amour. I’ll never let you do that.” His voice is low and raw when he continues, “I was a fool. Worse, I was a coward. I let the world dictate my life. I let them cost me you.Jamais plus?*.”
“And what if I don’t move back, Gustave? What if Paris is behind me?”
He doesn’t even blink. “Then I’ll make it work from here. I’ll fly back and forth if I must. I’ve already told my parents that I love you, Tara. They knowand?—”
“And they disapprove, don’t they?” I close my eyes as I cut him off.
“Look at me,” he orders.
I feel so terrifyingly sad that he has to change his life, give so much up to be with me. How can it be worth it?
“My parents are not important to me. You know who is?”
“Who?” My voice is small.
“You and Aubert.” He strokes a finger down my cheek. “And he adores you. Your family has all but adopted him.”
My laugh comes out shaky. “But your family?—”
“Can go fuck themselves,” he finishes. “Mon dieu, Tara. Why don’t you believe me when I tell you that I don’t care?”
I step away from him.
I see the hurt in his eyes. It’s devastating. I don’t want to cause him pain. I didn’t even think I could.
Stop lying to yourself, Tara. He’s here. He’s been here, sweeping Mi Tierra’s kitchen floor, making friends with your family, being here with you andforyou.
I move closer and put a hand on his chest. “I don’t want you to give up your life for me.”
He grabs my hand. “Can’t you understand thatyougive me life? Without you, what I have isn’t worth living, Tara.”
