When the Heart Falls

His tears don't fall, but I know the pain is deep. How do you choose between being in a relationship with a father who despises you, or ending that relationship and likely cutting yourself off from your whole family?

Our food arrives, and the spell is broken. He lets go of my hands, which are now cold and lonely, and clears the table of our books. We eat in silence, neither of us sure what to say. Maybe I should have kept my mouth shut, or served him platitudes he wanted to hear, but I can't do that. It wouldn't be fair to him or his relationship with his father. A fear seizes me. What if he cancels our tutoring sessions after this and I lose my best friend?

Instead, he sips his soda and smiles at me. "So, what was that about an escort business?"

I nearly choke on a steamed vegetable. "We're not going into that."

He raises his hands in mock innocence. "Hey, you brought it up. Now it's time to spill the beans."

I groan. "Okay. Fine. For my first days of high school, Autumn insisted on picking out my wardrobe. I won't go into the details of what I wore that first week, but let's just say the Pope would have had a heart attack if I walked by. As you can imagine, I drew a lot of attention, especially from the male and lesbian population. Some of the bi-sexual too, but that's a different story. Later that week, my parents got a phone call from my history teacher. He said he was worried about his students' ability to focus with me in the classroom. My dad asked if the teacher wasn't simply worried about his ability to focus in the classroom with me there."

Cade laughs at that, and it feels good to see him smiling again.

"That led to a meeting with the principal. In the end, my parents conceded that though I looked great and could have had a promising career as a high end escort, I had to stop letting Autumn pick out my wardrobe."

"Did you stop?"

"Of course." I feign shock at his question. "I picked out my own clothes the next day."

"And?" His lips twitch in a grin, and my heart skips a beat.

"Let's just say I was transferred out of history."

Cade laughs, and I start laughing, drawing attention to us both.

Vincent interrupts us with apologies and a bottle of champagne. "You having a good time?"

"Yes, we are." I move my empty plate out of the way. "Thank you."

"Great. I have a gift for you." He hands me the chilled bottle.

"Thank you, but… why?"

"It is American holiday, no?"

"Yes, that's very thoughtful of you." I place the bottle on the table between Cade and me.

"It is my pleasure. Enjoy, Mademoiselle. Enjoy, Monsieur." Vincent hands Cade the check and leaves.

When I turn back to Cade, his smile has turned to a frown and he's watching Vincent as he makes the rounds.

"You want to get out of here?" Cade leaves cash on the check and stands to go.

"Um, sure." I worry that we'll offend Vincent by leaving the champagne unopened, but since I don't drink, I'm not sure what else to do with it. I stand and grab my coat and bag. "Where do you want to go?"

"I have an idea. Come on."

"Wait," I say. Cade's hat is on the table, and I pick it up and put it on my head. "How do I look? Like a cowgirl?"

"Yes, just like. May I have it back now? Please?"

I take it off and give it back to him, my mood dropping with his. "Sure. Sorry."

He dusts off the hat and puts it on. "It's okay. I'm just not used to other people wearing it."

I can tell the hat has sentimental value for him, but I think I've sniffed out enough of his secrets today, so I don't press the issue. Instead, I link my arm with his and smile. "Where are we going?"

"You'll find out." He smiles a devilish grin. "If you don't mind escorting me outside?"





WINTER DEVEAUX

CHAPTER 13





CADE'S BODY WARMS me as we walk across a bridge over the Seine River. The sun is setting, filling the rain dampened city with warm tones of gold, red and yellow and reflecting off the water. I shiver at the drop in temperature, and Cade pulls his arm out of mine and settles it over my shoulder.

I've never walked with a man like this, like a couple, even though we aren't technically a couple, and I memorize how it feels, the butterflies in my stomach and the heat from his body, the way a new hunger burns in my belly.

We stop and lean over the fence, admiring the river and watching the boats full of couples as they glide along the water.

Hundreds of locks are latched onto the fence, each with initials or names written on them. I hold one in my hand, studying it. "What do you think this is about?"

Cade shrugs. "No idea."

An elderly couple passes us and stops a few feet away, lock in hand. Their white heads come together like clouds as they kiss and then click the lock onto the fence. The woman holds the key in her hand, then throws it over the side.

Curiosity compels me forward, Cade at my back. "Excuse me. Do you speak English?" I could have the conversation in French, but I don't want to leave Cade out.

They turn to us, their arms wrapped around each other, matching gold rings on their fingers. "We do," the woman says with a strong French accent.