Page 83 of Whispers in the Dark
I quickly nod, knowing the sound of her voice will instantly calm the nerves running rampant through me.
Like it’s something we’ve done a hundred times before, she shifts closer, fitting perfectly against me as my arm comes around her. Our bodies settle together with an ease that feels natural. And as her voice fills the space, steady and soothing, my racing thoughts quiet. I don’t even notice the moment the plane lifts off, disappearing into the dark sky.
Hours later, the captain’s voice filters through the cabin, instructing us to prepare for landing. I gently stroke Alina’s arm, and her head resting on my thigh shifts as she blinks herself awake.
She lets out a soft yawn. “Are we there?” Sitting up, she stretches, arms lifting above her head, before she turns to peer out the window.
After we land, I guide her down the stairs where a car is already waiting. She settles beside me, quiet but alert, watching the world pass by as we leave the airport and merge onto the highway.
Then she sees it.
A sign that reads,“Bienvenue à Paris.”
Her eyes widen as she looks at me over her shoulder. “Mauro… Are we in Paris?”
I nod, suddenly nervous that she’ll think this is too much.
Is this too much? It doesn’t feel that way to me when I wish I could give her the whole damn world.
To my relief, her arms wrap around me as she presses her body against mine. “I can’t believe it,” she whispers, sounding stunned. “I’ve always wanted to come here.”
I know.
She pulls back just enough to look at me, her hands resting flat against my chest. “Thank you.” And then she smiles. Really smiles. The kind that steals the air from my lungs, the kind I haven’t seen in days.
Without wasting a second, I capture her lips in a kiss, pouring everything I can’t say into it. She melts into me, her body molding to mine as my arms surround her, securing her to my chest.
The car slows to a stop, and the driver clears his throat. “Sir,” he says, his French accent thick. “We’re here.”
I step out of the car and turn back to offer Alina my hand.
We stand before a small building, and Alina reads the sign, “Lire C’est La Vie.” Her eyes glisten, and I place my palm on her cheek, capturing her attention. My brows furrow as I watch a fewtears escape down her cheeks, my thumb quickly gliding across her skin to catch them.
Did I do something wrong?
“You brought me to the same bookstore my mother frequented.” Her fingers circle my wrist. She rolls in her bottom lip, blinking back tears as she stares into my eyes. “I can’t believe you did this for me.”
I lean down, gliding my lips over her ear. “Anything…” I swallow hard, fighting off the agony traveling down my throat as I desperately need to finish this sentence. “For…you.”
Bells chime as the door near us opens. “Ah, Monsieur Alarie! Bienvenue à Lire C’est La Vie,” a woman’s voice calls out to me, and I turn, facing her as I take Alina’s hand in mine, intertwining our fingers. The woman, whom I assume is Eloise, the owner, offers a wide smile as she opens the door for us and gestures for us to come inside.
I’m familiar with French, seeing that it was one of the languages our father had us learn and speak growing up, but I’m thankful when she transitions to English for Alina’s benefit.
“You will have the store to yourselves for as long as you’d like, and please let me or one of my associates know if you need any assistance. The whole back wall acquires books written in English, if you would rather that option.”
“To ourselves?” Alina asks, confused.
“Bien sûr. Monsieur Alarie has rented the space for a shopping spree.” She points over her shoulder. “I’ll be in the back to give you two some space, but again, if you need anything at all, please let me know.” She advances toward the back and disappears behind a curtain.
“This feels…surreal,” Alina murmurs, pressing her palm to her forehead. Glancing up at me, she says, “I don’t even know what to say.”
I grin.Pick out as many books as you want.
A playful smile appears. “We could be here all day.”
I shrug.Fine with me.
She shakes her head and stands on her tiptoes, her fingers clutching onto my jacket as she presses a soft kiss to my lips.
