She flushed and hung up her coat. She’d taken extra care in selecting clingy black pants and a peplum blouse with a plungingneckline. Funny how, back when Gallant had complimented her on nothing but her looks, she’d found the comments so disingenuous.
Now she relished the spark in his cobalt eyes. Now she knew how muchmorelay behind it.
“Flattery will get you everywhere,” she said.
“Good to know.” He winked. “Now come see what I’ve been working on all evening.”
He led her to the dining room, where he’d set the table with spotless linen and softly glowing taper candles. The rich scent of roasting poultry warmed the air. And there, propped against her porcelain plate, was a white envelope.
Aubrey’s heart catapulted into her throat. She set her wine aside as Gallant pulled out her chair for her. “Can I read this?” she asked, all in one breath.
He hesitated. “Now?”
“Yes.”
“Um. Sure. Just... while I get the food, maybe? It might be kinda strange if I was standing right here.”
She gave a smile that hopefully broadcast her encouragement. Gallant hadn’t shared his softer side in person, yet. “Of course. Whatever you need.”
“Great. I’ll be right back.” He squeezed her shoulder and headed for the kitchen.
The moment dishes clanked in the other room, she tore into the envelope, her pulse roaring like a redlined engine.
Dear Aubrey,
Once every few years, life conspires to create a moment. You know, the unforgettable kind, one that sinks into you and makes a home for itself. The kind you slip into your pocket, to be taken out and examined later, like a bright, found penny, or a uniquely flawless stone.
Life gifted me with one of those moments just the other day.
You looked so breathtaking, sitting across from me, your hair falling so perfectly, as if it knew how best to frame your face. For a heartbeat, I lost myself in the shape of your mouth, in the way your bottom lip chased each inhale. And yet you tempted me with so much more than beauty, just then. You looked like tranquility to me. Like peace.
The truth is, I sometimes feel like a storm found its way into me years ago and never found its way out again. I hide it well, I think, but it’s noisy in here. Lightning flashes. Thunder booms. Half the time, I’m stumbling, and the other half, I can’t tell up from down. Then, just when I glimpse a path through the darkness, the wind snatches me back and crushes the breath from my chest.
But the other night, all of that faded. There was you. Your face, your hair, the slope of your mouth, your laugh, the way your eyes crinkled when I said something that amused you. Then came that singular instant in which your gaze locked onto mine and neither of us needed anything else, only to be there with each other, content, connected, cocooned from the world. Immersed, however briefly, in what sharing space together added up to.
And, for an incomparable moment, I could breathe again.
Gallant
Aubrey set down the paper, her lungs spasming. Her composure had melted somewhere in the second paragraph.
She could scarcely believe he felt this way about her so soon, but it was everything she needed and feared she’d never find again. She wanted passion. Ardor. Someone who could love her with abandon, the way she loved mathematics. Someone she could love back the same way.
And a letter like this... it couldn’t be faked.
She tucked the envelope under her plate. Her hands felt empty without it. She had just touched shaking fingers to her wineglass when Gallant appeared carrying a roasted chicken.
Aubrey’s breath caught. She hadn’t looked at him yet, not truly. Now she did.
He wore an earth-colored cashmere sweater and jeans, no shoes. His chestnut hair was uncharacteristically mussed, but it suited the occasion, proof that his guard was coming down. That, coupled with the Technicolor eyes and the letter that had just shaken her world on its foundation, made her throat go dry.
“How did I never know you could write like this?” she said.
Gallant blinked, then set down the food and reached to reposition his perfectly positioned silverware. “I don’t know. Probably because I don’t let a lot of people in.”
She swallowed. It was just like he’d said in the letter. “So all that posturing in high school... The fights you got in? The girls you chased? All those times you said, ‘Hey, MacLean, looking good’? That was... what, a cover-up?”
His lips ticked downward. “A cover-up?”
