Page 330 of Lars

We became a sort of power couple within MI6. The Director of Operations and the dashing female field agent. The Boss and the Badass.

I won’t lie: the power and status were seductive. I definitely enjoyed it.

Our only disagreements were about my missions. He hated that I was perpetually in danger and pleaded with me to take an administrative position within MI6.

“You can have anything you want,” he said. “Your record is sterling, and with my influence behind you, you could rise in the ranks faster than – ”

“I’m not like you,” I interrupted. “I wouldn’t survive behind a desk. I need the thrill. I need the danger.”

A mean little voice whispered, God knows I’m not getting it with YOU.

But I shut that voice up and buried it in a box so deep that I couldn’t hear it anymore.

I kept going on missions… and Alistair kept sullenly accepting it.

He proposed on a trip to Paris.

I was expecting it. One doesn’t go to Paris and stay in a 1000-euro-a-night hotel suite for a regular old vacation.

When he said he had something special planned for Friday evening, I nodded and smiled.

Then, when I went into the bathroom, I opened my phone and looked at old pictures of Lars.

I’d never allowed him to take pictures of me because of my job, but I’d cajoled him into letting me take a few snapshots of him.

In some, he was grumpy. I grinned as I remembered how he had complained about the double standard.

But in others, he was smiling… and in all of them, he was dashing, and gorgeous…

And the love of my life.

My heart ached when I saw him.

I usually didn’t look at the photos. Not unless I’d had a particularly bad fight with Alistair and gotten drunk afterwards. I knew it didn’t do any good to go and revisit the past.

But after three and a half years of waiting, I had made my peace: either Lars was dead, or he was never coming back.

Either way, it was time to move on for good.

My finger hovered over the screen for almost 30 seconds…

And then I deleted the pictures, one by one.

Each one was like a needle stabbed into my heart.

When it was over, I felt sad… but I also felt free.

Free to move on.

Free to start a completely new life.

Alistair hadn’t been kidding when he said he had something special planned.

After a late dinner at a three-star Michelin restaurant, we took a limousine to the Eiffel Tower.

He escorted me past several guards to the express elevator…

And we went all the way to the top of the Eiffel Tower.

---