“Justified obstinacy. You wanted to wear boat shoes to a country and western saloon, and I wanted you to do as I say to save you—and me—from humiliation.” She grinned.
He shook his head. “You won. You always won.”
“Not always.”
“True, but I never minded caving to you. I wore the damn boots—didn’t I?”
“And you wore them well.”
He smirked. “I have not forgotten that night—nor the hat.”
“I vividly remember the hat.” She tried to suppress her smile, but could feel the burn to her cheeks, recalling their first time. Slowly, they were breaking down the invisible wall between them. Like he said, they were different people now, but they couldn’t ignore their shared memories of the happiest time in their lives.Thatwas an unbreakable bond, no matter who he was going to marry. There was no harm in taking this type of trip down Memory Lane, so long as she didn’t engage her heart. “What were you going to say?”
“Do you still have those clunky waterproof boots you wore when I took you skiing at my mom’s Vermont place for yourbirthday?” he asked, removing his oxfords—still giving her the win.
“You remember my birthday?”
“Of course. I remember everything about you.”
“Everything?”
“Just about.”
Wow.“Um ... I think I still have those boots. I haven’t worn them in forever. Brooklyn isn’t exactly Laramie or Vermont in the winter. Do you still have your cowboy boots?”
“Nope. Long gone.”
“How about the hat?”
“Gone.”
“That’s a shame.”
Under the magic of Paris at dusk, the intoxicating influence of expensive wine and titillating champagne, they ate and talked about the past and the present, laughing and telling stories about newer experiences they hadn’t shared. She was surprised to learn that he rarely traveled out of the country, yet they had once dreamed of going to exotic destinations together. And while she loved her home state, she had not been home to Wyoming, stating that Jane was too much “home” for her. She didn’t elaborate; he didn’t ask. When all the food was put away, they lay beside each other on the blanket, gazing up at the stars and the dazzling tower above them. Surrounded by the magnificence of the city of love and background to their silence, an accordion played from somewhere across the field, creating a serene, maybe even romantic, cocoon around them.
“Have you ever been to the top?” he softly asked.
“Only the second level, but it felt ... a hollow experience.”
“Maybe we can go to the summit before we leave.”
“I’d like that.”
She gazed up at the antennae rising to heaven, touching eternity at one thousand feet.
Her heart thundered, willing herself to speak the words of contrition rooted in her heart. With her hand resting beside his on the grass, she nervously wiggled her fingers. Finally, she got up the nerve and softly asked, “Is it too late to say I’m sorry for breaking your heart, William?”
Turning his head, their eyes locked. “No. I forgive you, Lizzy.”
Silence settled between them, the air feeling significantly cooler and lighter.
“And I’m so sorry I didn’t fight for you,” he added.
Wow, she didn’t anticipate or expect him to own any part of their breakup, especially because Fitzwilliam Darcy was not one to show vulnerability. “Apology accepted.”
Instead of saying another word, he took her hand in his, locking his fingers with hers. A most delightful warmth ran up her arm. He forgave her,andhe’d called her Lizzy. Butterflies.
TWENTY-FOUR
