“Stop it. We’ve always been in love, and we will continue to be, whether in Paris or not,” he replied, noticeably frustrated by her denial. “We’re meant to be together.”
“Don’t say this. I told you last night, we can’t go down this road. It’s not right. There is another heart to consider in this equation.”
“If you say you don’t love me, then I’ll accept it and go forward in the meaningless life I’ve carved out these many years. Is that what you want? Answer me this—would your life without me bring you the joy you deserve?”
His words hung heavy in the air as he patiently waited for her answer. “Would it?”
“I admit that I missed you.”
“Only missed?”
“I ... I ...” Defeated by his continual insistence and the veracity of his claims, she dropped her chin to her chest. “I ... this is impossible, but I can’t lie to you no matter how hard I try to hide what I feel.” He broke her. Her lip trembled. “I do love you, so much that it hurts!” she cried. “There would be no joy, ever.” She gazed into his eyes, then kissed him softly, longingly as though it were the first and last time, pouring her soul onto his lips. Their past disappeared in confessions and a passionate kiss filled with absolution and their innate need for the other.
Rising from the floor, William offered her his hand just as he had on the dance floor at the wedding. “Lizzy, let’s freeze time today.”
“We shouldn’t,” she softly said, yet wanted nothing more than to make love to him.
“We should,” he replied. “I don’t care about anything or anyone other than us, here and now.”
His kisses trailed her neck as he dropped the robe from her shoulders. Every part of her tingled in delight from the touch of his lips, his hands, the intonation in his voice, and the anticipation of being loved by him again.
“I need to know ...” he said, “Was it real on the beach or had I just wanted it so much that I imagined it?”
“It was real ... so amazingly real. It was the most erotic night of my life since we parted.”
He graced her with a beaming smile, which turned to a quizzical brow. “But you left.”
“I didn’t want to, but after we made love a second time at sunrise, I saw Carrie coming down the beach. I ran off, feeling so guilty for betraying her and having taken advantage of you in the state you were in. I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. You brought me back to life.” He lifted her left hand to his lips, kissing her ring finger. “Where’s the ring?” he asked.
“I called the wedding off. We broke up before I left for Paris.”
Relief seemed to cross his expression, then he kissed her deeply, ardently.
Leading her to the master bedroom, he took things slow, kissing her, touching her through her nightie, running his fingers through her hair. His soft words of adoration and reacquaintance filled her empty heart and soul, shutting out reality and those waiting for them in New York. All that mattered was this moment, just like that night on the beach.
Time had stopped, but her beating heart worked overtime.
Undressing each other, they stood beside the open window, backdropped by the Eiffel Tower. Not since their first time had her desire to feel him inside her been this intense. She felt like a teenager again, allowing raging hormones and pent-up yearning to embrace forbidden sex. This once-in-a-lifetime opportunity would never come again. William, a principled man of integrity, wanted her despite their rocky past and the commitment he’d made to another. Stepping back in time, she was all-in.
“Our business relationship is hereby officially terminated, Mr. Darcy,” she breathed.
“Tell me this isn’t a dream,” he said gazing into her eyes.
“It’s real. Unfathomably real.”
He kissed her, then whispered. “Promise me you won’t leave me tomorrow.”
“I promise.”
They spent Independence Day setting off their own fireworks, alternating between lounging in bed and sitting on the terrace. There had been so much to catch up on: her time at school, many trips down Memory Lane, revisiting the fun times they had, and laughing about his ebike experience. They discussed Pemberley and his rise to fame and plans for slowing down. She shared that she’d stopped painting after word came that Anne died, and he expressed a desire to paint again with earnestness now that his muse had come back to him.
In the dark, she watched him slumber with a peaceful look on his face. An earlier conversation touched her so deeply that it would be forever etched onto her heart and mind.
Lying beside her, William lounged on a terrace chaise, eyes closed, absorbing the warmth of the sun and the respite.
“Did you know she was sick, Lizzy?” he asked out of the blue.
