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“God, I hate surprises.”

“Come on, Angel. Come with me.”

I take his hand.

“Fuck it. Okay, let’s go on vacation.”

* * *

Japan.

That’s where Fabien takes me. To the city of Kyoto. He borrows Baptiste’s private jet to take us there, refusing to confess our destination until we’re in the air sipping fine wine and holding hands.

“This will be perfect for us,” he tells me. “A place where no one knows us. Where we can get away from it all. Where we can find silence and stillness and just be together.”

I can’t believe him.

“I’ve always wanted to go to Japan,” I whisper. “I just never had the chance.”

“So you’re happy?”

“Always. Thank you, Fabien.”

“It’s all for you, Angel.”

We stay at a gorgeous hotel on the banks of the river. The décor of the place is traditionally Japanese. The suite is stocked full of Japanese whisky and champagne, all taken care of by Fabien. I don’t even have to lift a finger. My man plans everything. And it’s all for me.

“I guess I needed this as well,” Fabien tells me as we have breakfast on the hotel balcony overlooking the river as the sun rises. I sit back and let the Japanese sun warm my face.

“Yes, you do.”

I watch him. Fabien seems peaceful now. There’s no more pain in his eyes. Yeah, he was right when he said we would find silence and stillness here.

It’s all I want.

Later, a monk takes us on a private tour through an ancient temple. It’s so special. Fabien holds my hand the entire time, his thumb gently rubbing against my fingers. His mere touch makes me feel grounded and seen. Here, I no longer have to play the part of a hard businesswoman. I can just be that teenage girl who let him make me a grilled cheese in the middle of the night.

Yes, he still moves stiffly, but he doesn’t speak of his physical wounds. He’s getting better.

In the inner sanctum of the temple, we light candles together. I think about Clement. And Father. And all that’s happened. It feels like this trip could be the chance for us to step out of the wreckage and into the future.

I look at Fabien beside me. He’s frowning as he lights his candle. He’s troubled by something. I can tell by the way he tenses his perfectly chiseled jaw. Whatever it is, he’ll tell me when the time is right. I know him well enough.

* * *

At night, we have a dinner cruise along the river, lit by candlelight and the glow from lanterns. It’s even more peaceful here on the water. I keep an eye on my man. He’s not smiling anymore. The enthusiasm he shared when he booked the trip is gone.

That’s when, as the boat gently rocks in the silence after we’ve poured our drinks, Fabien tells me what’s been on his mind.

“I still feel it. That night. I still feel the handle of that knife in my hand.”

He’s letting it out, exhaling it.

It’s a lot for a man like Fabien Cote to lower his walls and admit his vulnerability.

He trusts me. Completely.

I reach for his hand.