“So what exactly does groveling look like?” I ask in a sweet voice, tapping my chin thoughtfully. “You’ve already killed the corrupt politician who wanted to kill me, so it can’t be that…”
News stations all over the country are up in arms over the story of Montague’s “suicide.” I’m not sure what kind of strings Thayer pulled for that one, but it’s poetic justice after what Montague did to Rousseau.
I had no relationship with François Montague. He might as well have been a sperm donor for all I cared. The pain of his rejection is something I may deal with for the rest of my life, but I’ll make peace with it.
Still, I appreciated Lyam’s deferring to me just as I appreciated him saving my life in the end.
We have his confession and have made it public, and now it’s clear to the citizens that Montague couldn’t handle the public shame of his illicit affair and illegitimate daughter.
They’ll talk about it for weeks.
Lyam and I, on the other hand, are done talking about it.
Done.
As far as I’m concerned, we need never talk about it again.
“Late night palmiers for the remainder of your pregnancy?” he offers. We’re lying in the deluxe bed at Le Marquise. He knows I love it here, and Lyam loves knowing how safe it is.
“That’s a good start,” I say teasingly. “Though these days, my cravings are more along the line of… éclairs? Mmm.” Those long, thin pastries filled with custard and topped with chocolate aremy favorite. “No, no, I’ve got it!” I sigh. “Macarons, Lyam. I wantmacarons.”
Light, airy, delicately sweet. My mouth waters.
“Those are easy. Consider it done. But you have to ask for more than that. I wasn’t just an asshole; I was afuckingasshole.” He grimaces.
“You’re awfully cute when you grovel,” I say thoughtfully. I run my fingers through his dark, tousled hair.
“Cute?” he says with distaste. “I was hoping to go for debonair or handsome.”
“That, too,” I say, leaning in to kiss his forehead. “But cute is a refreshing change.”
“Oh! I’ve got it!” he says, pointing with his index finger as if he’s been struck with a brilliant idea, and still looking incrediblycute.“I can make it up to you with multiple orgasms that rock your world, morning, noon, and night?”
I guffaw. “I thoughtthatwas a given.”
He rolls over onto his elbows and looks me in the eyes. My heart turns over in my chest.
“Of course it is,” he says in a soft voice. “And Idoknow how to grovel.” He swallows. “It begins with an apology. I was insensitive and jumped to conclusions. Instead of assuming you betrayed us when I found out he was your father, I should have known it only put you in more danger. I should’ve known you would never do anything like that. I let my fears get the best of me, and I was wrong. I should have chosen to treat you with respect and given you the benefit of the doubt.”
“Lyam Gerard,” I say in a soft voice. “You reallydoknow how to grovel, don’t you?”
“Not saying I do it often, but yeah. Of course I do.” He swallows. “Because you’re my Queen. And I love you.”
“And I love you,” I say as he moves closer to me so he can hold me.
“Cosette, we’ve had nothing but craziness for weeks on end. I want quiet. I want to enjoy time with you. I want to take long walks and eat good food and make love. I want todateyou. Paris is the City of Love, and French men know how to be romantic. So tell me, love. What is it you want to do? Let’s resurrect this city. Let’s show the Parisians what two lovers do.”
My heart leaps with happiness. Lyam really does want to make it better. We will eradicate the bitter memories and renew the city that’s tainted and make it our home.
“So many things,” I say. “I want to take a romantic stroll down the Seine and buy books from the vendors at sunset when the city’s alight. I want to have a picnic lunch by the Champ de Mars Park,explore the Luxembourg Garden’s fountains, and maybe rent a sailboat. I want to visit the Opera House and see a ballet and explore some of those adorable little cafés in the Montmartre district. I want to taste macarons and drink hot tea and have dinner with Maman at your family home and pore over your baby pictures.” I sigh and repeat,“So many things.”
“God, I love your romantic heart,” he says, stroking his fingers through my hair. “Let’s make a pact, Cosette. Right here, right now.”
I look into his eyes. “Yes?”
“Our world is full of challenges and obstacles and people that would tear us apart. We have to promise each other that we won’t let them.”
I nod. “Yes, Lyam. I completely agree. Absolutely.”
