“We can go to the hotel,” I suggest.
“Aubert is there,” she whines.
Fuck me! My choices were to have sex with Tara,either with my son listening in or her parents. How did my life become this?
Well, Gustave, your life is this because you flew across the ocean to get Tara back.
Best decision of my life!
Tara grabs my hand and drags me outside. I hurriedly lock up the restaurant.
It’s well past midnight when she leads me down the quiet street, whispering over her shoulder, “We have to be quiet.”
At her parents’ front door, she fishes a key from her purse. “If we get caught, you’re explaining this.”
“Oui, naturally. In flawless Spanish.”
She stifles a giggle as she eases the door open. The hallway glows faintly from the nightlight near the Virgin Mary statue, and somewhere deeper inside, the low hum of a ceiling fan fills the silence.
We tiptoe like teenagers. She holds my hand behind her, leading me down the narrow corridor, past family photos.
My shoulder bumps a wall, and a framed picture rattles.
“Gustave!” she hisses.
“Pardon. Your hallway is too narrow.”
“Maybe you’re too big.”
“Merci.”
Her glare is instant, but her lips twitch. “Not a compliment.”
“The lady doth protest too much.”
We make it to her room.
Small. Cozy. Full of books, candles, and a half-finished painting leaning against the wall.
I close the door softly behind us. “See? Not a sound.”
“Except for that loud French ego.”
I step closer. “Would you like me to quit it?”
“No.” She smiles wide. “I like it.”
The words barely leave her mouth before I kiss her—slow, deep, tasting laughter and longing.
She melts against me, fingers sliding into my hair as if she’s been waiting all this time to pull me closer.
When we finally break apart, her forehead rests against mine, both of us catching our breath.
“You realize,” she warns, “if my father finds you here, you’re a dead man.”
“Then I’ll die happy.” I kiss her again, softer this time.
We fall onto her bed, stifling laughter, tangled in sheets, and her half-whispered apologies to the saints on her dresser.
