He had so much he wanted to say. Things like: “You’re beautiful. I miss you. Why couldn’t we find a way to stay together? Why did we have to drift apart? Did you get my letter and will you please, please, please tell me it’s the same for you?”
But when she lifted her hand to reach for her coffee, the breath escaped his chest in a cold rush.
The stone on her left hand was small, but shone brilliantly and horribly, slashing all his hopes.
His throat turned dry and his chest pinched. But he went for humor, needing it as a shield from the reality. He held up his hand, as if the sun had robbed him of sight. “Whoa. I think your ring blinded me.”
Annalise cast her eyes down at it, as if she just realized she was wearing it. She fiddled with it for a second then folded her hands in her lap. Out of sight. “I received your letter. I’m…engaged.”
Two short sentences that punctured his lungs. It was something he should have prepared for. Something he knew was always a possibility. But his heart squeezed too tight, and he gasped for breath as nothing but hurt coursed through him. As quickly as it surged, though, he tried to shut it down. To remind himself that he’d been rolling the dice anyway when he sent the letter, and the dice had come up empty.
He inhaled deeply, let the air fill his lungs, then put on his best face. “Congratulations are in order, then. Who’s the lucky guy?” he asked, taking the knife and digging it around in his chest a little more, carving out some of that beating organ.
“His name is Julien. We work together. He’s…wonderful,” she said, her voice faltering, as if she were embarrassed to admit that.
“I’m glad to hear,” he said, and he was, in a way, because she deserved someone wonderful. He’d just once believed that someone would be him. He’d believed it a week ago, a day ago, a few minutes ago.
He was a foolish romantic.
But really, what had he expected? That after not talking or writing, he would send a letter, and they’d magically run into each other then start back up again like some romantic movie?
Well, the thought had been front and center of his mind for the last five minutes, sure. Because when you see the love of your life out of the blue in an airport, it feels like the stars are lining up for you.
Now, it felt like a cruel twist of fate.
He picked up his tea, took a drink, then set it down. They talked and caught up on each other’s lives. They discussed their jobs, and their families. She told him about Noelle’s life, and he told her that Ryan and he were working for Army Intelligence, that Colin was finishing up college, acing every class, and Shannon was slated to graduate soon, too, and was engaged to be married to her college sweetheart.
The ease with which they had always spoken about everything tugged at his heart, but it reminded him, too, of all that was lost.
Lost with her.
They wouldn’t have this again. This was all there was, and he shouldn’t feel so let down. He hadn’t expected to see her. He didn’t think he’d ever see her again in his whole life.
Tell that to his heart, though. It was beating overtime for her, like it had been reawakened and was wishing desperately that this was a new beginning rather than another end.
*
Dear Annalise,
I hope this letter finds its way to you safely, and that you are healthy and happy. It’s been so long, too long, since I heard your voice or read your handwriting. I miss both with a deep ache inside me, one that never subsided. In spite of the time that has passed, I haven’t stopped thinking of you, not once in all the years since we last spoke. I’m not exaggerating when I say a day hasn’t gone by when I don’t think of you with fondness, love, and desire, as much, if not more, than I felt before. It seems utterly small to say I hope you are well, but I do wish that for you and your family.
I’ve finished college now, and am grateful for the scholarship from the army that paid my way through school. Now it is my turn to give back, and I’m doing that, as it happens, in Europe. I’m working in army intelligence and I have just been stationed in Germany, of all places. It’s not France, of course, but it isn’t an ocean away, either. I am so much closer to you than I ever was before. Perhaps we can see each other again? Perhaps we can do more than see each other? Maybe even start over? I have always longed for you with everything in my heart. Je n’ai jamais cessé de t’aimer, ma petite fraise, my Annalise.
With all of my love,
Michael
*
She wasn’t supposed to think he was handsome. She shouldn’t be lingering on the memory of how he kissed, how she felt in his arms, or just how damn good they had been together. No, she was in love with her fiancé.
She. Was. In. Love.
But as she sat across from Michael her heart beat furiously, crashing against her skin, fighting valiantly to escape her plans, her future, her pending marriage. She laced her fingers together under the table, and she swore she was on the verge of crushing bones in the effort to keep her hands in her lap, her butt in the seat, her lips to herself.
Sinful Love (Sinful Nights #4)
Lauren Blakely's books
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