them hurt you.”
Harry ran his fingers through his hair and paced the length of the room.
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Thank you?”
Elise tried to sound flippant, but her laugh turned into a choked sob. Harry was at her side in two long strides, wrapping his strong arms around her slender frame. He pressed his face into her hair and tightened his hold.
“I’m sorry,” he breathed, his voice haggard.
“I know,” Elise said, leaning into his embrace. “I know.”
“We can’t fix this, can we?”
His voice was tinged with sad finality. He knew he’d broken her heart...not once, but twice. They pulled away slightly, their eyes meeting mournfully. Elise gently traced the lines of his face with her fingertips.
“No,” she said faintly. “I don’t know if...I don’t know if I could ever trust you again.”
Harry smiled ruefully and cupped her cheek in his palm.
“But you still like me, don’t you?”
He tried to keep his tone light, and Elise smiled softly.
“I’ll always like you, Harry.”
He leaned forward to press his forehead to hers.
“Thank you, Elise.”
He touched his lips to hers gently, ever so gently. She let her lids flutter shut as their lips moved in slow, delicate patterns. The kiss was tender, tingling with a slow-burning need. Elise lost herself in the kiss, allowing herself to drift away in the simple sensations. But it couldn’t last forever.
When Harry pulled back, his cheeks were wet with her tears. And then she opened her eyes and met his.
“Goodbye, Harry.”
Chapter 8
Elise sipped her coffee, leisurely watching the many people passing by on the street. It was summer in Paris, and the bright weather had attracted many weekend tourists. The Café de la Paix was particularly busy, but she still had her favorite table, which was close enough to the street to get a good view, but still in the shade of the tall buildings. From her vantage point, she could heard a smattering of languages: French, Spanish, Italian...even a little American English. The familiar accent made her nostalgic; New York was far, far away, but her thoughts often drifted back to the bustling city of her youth...and to her most tumultuous love affair.
Elise sighed, setting down her coffee mug. She’d returned to Paris on the next ocean liner, swearing to leave her memories far behind. But six months after leaving, she still found herself wondering what had happened to Harry...and what might have been between them if she’d stayed. To be sure, he’d once again managed to break her hear that day—but remembering their last lingering touches, she’d known he’d truly regretted his actions. She knew in the depths of her heart that he hadn’t meant to hurt her—but it didn’t mean that she could stick around. The wound had been too fresh, and so she’d done the only thing she could: she’d escaped. Now, however, she wondered if she’d done the right thing. After all, they’d both had ulterior motives at some point, and they’d both been trying to play the other for a fool. But after having such a good time together, she was sure they had put the past behind them.
Oh , well ...
She exhaled and tucked a stray lock of her black hair behind one ear.
“If you sigh one more time,” someone said in a deep baritone, “people will start to think you’re not happy here.”
Elise frowned. She knew that voice, and she knew it well. She spun around in her seat, her blue eyes searching. A familiar figure stood leaning over the wrought-iron fence, a wry smile on his face.
“Harry,” Elise breathed in disbelief.
“Good afternoon, Elise,” Harry said genially, touching his hat in greeting. “May I join you?”
“Please do,” Elise said with a genuine smile.
Harry circled the café’s fence and strode over to her table, leaning in to kiss her cheek. Elise stared as he pulled out a chair and sat, pulling off his hat and setting it on the table. The six months had not dulled his good
Harry ran his fingers through his hair and paced the length of the room.
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Thank you?”
Elise tried to sound flippant, but her laugh turned into a choked sob. Harry was at her side in two long strides, wrapping his strong arms around her slender frame. He pressed his face into her hair and tightened his hold.
“I’m sorry,” he breathed, his voice haggard.
“I know,” Elise said, leaning into his embrace. “I know.”
“We can’t fix this, can we?”
His voice was tinged with sad finality. He knew he’d broken her heart...not once, but twice. They pulled away slightly, their eyes meeting mournfully. Elise gently traced the lines of his face with her fingertips.
“No,” she said faintly. “I don’t know if...I don’t know if I could ever trust you again.”
Harry smiled ruefully and cupped her cheek in his palm.
“But you still like me, don’t you?”
He tried to keep his tone light, and Elise smiled softly.
“I’ll always like you, Harry.”
He leaned forward to press his forehead to hers.
“Thank you, Elise.”
He touched his lips to hers gently, ever so gently. She let her lids flutter shut as their lips moved in slow, delicate patterns. The kiss was tender, tingling with a slow-burning need. Elise lost herself in the kiss, allowing herself to drift away in the simple sensations. But it couldn’t last forever.
When Harry pulled back, his cheeks were wet with her tears. And then she opened her eyes and met his.
“Goodbye, Harry.”
Chapter 8
Elise sipped her coffee, leisurely watching the many people passing by on the street. It was summer in Paris, and the bright weather had attracted many weekend tourists. The Café de la Paix was particularly busy, but she still had her favorite table, which was close enough to the street to get a good view, but still in the shade of the tall buildings. From her vantage point, she could heard a smattering of languages: French, Spanish, Italian...even a little American English. The familiar accent made her nostalgic; New York was far, far away, but her thoughts often drifted back to the bustling city of her youth...and to her most tumultuous love affair.
Elise sighed, setting down her coffee mug. She’d returned to Paris on the next ocean liner, swearing to leave her memories far behind. But six months after leaving, she still found herself wondering what had happened to Harry...and what might have been between them if she’d stayed. To be sure, he’d once again managed to break her hear that day—but remembering their last lingering touches, she’d known he’d truly regretted his actions. She knew in the depths of her heart that he hadn’t meant to hurt her—but it didn’t mean that she could stick around. The wound had been too fresh, and so she’d done the only thing she could: she’d escaped. Now, however, she wondered if she’d done the right thing. After all, they’d both had ulterior motives at some point, and they’d both been trying to play the other for a fool. But after having such a good time together, she was sure they had put the past behind them.
Oh , well ...
She exhaled and tucked a stray lock of her black hair behind one ear.
“If you sigh one more time,” someone said in a deep baritone, “people will start to think you’re not happy here.”
Elise frowned. She knew that voice, and she knew it well. She spun around in her seat, her blue eyes searching. A familiar figure stood leaning over the wrought-iron fence, a wry smile on his face.
“Harry,” Elise breathed in disbelief.
“Good afternoon, Elise,” Harry said genially, touching his hat in greeting. “May I join you?”
“Please do,” Elise said with a genuine smile.
Harry circled the café’s fence and strode over to her table, leaning in to kiss her cheek. Elise stared as he pulled out a chair and sat, pulling off his hat and setting it on the table. The six months had not dulled his good
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