Page 69 of Atonement

“Let me,” I said, seizing the plates before he had a chance too. “You cooked, so it makes sense.” I kissed his forehead as I came around the table, and this time, his face lit up like a beacon.

*

I don’t know how he managed it on such short notice, but Meyer had us scheduled to see everything there was to see in Paris. On our first full day he made sure I wore comfortable shoes for our trip to the Louvre, where he had arranged a private tour for us. We were able to see the Mona Lisa up close without the massive crowds pressing around us, and every important piece housed at the museum was highlighted and explained in detail. I found myself taking notes on my phone as I snapped pictures of us in front of various works of art.

“Kind of weird, taking photos of art,” Meyer commented dryly.

“It’s for a scrapbook,” I said. “I’ve decided I’m going to start scrapbooking everything.”

He smiled as he wrapped one arm around my shoulders and kissed the top of my head. “I’m glad you’ll have these photos.”

“You will, too,” I reminded him. He just gave me the same smile, the one that didn’t seem to touch any other part of his face.

A spontaneous trip overseas was strange enough, but Meyer’s attitude was growing more and more concerning. He held me a little closer at night; his hand around mine was tighter than usual. We took the elevators to the top of the Eiffel tower and shared a bottle of wine in the restaurant there, overpriced as it was. A chartered bus took us to some of the most famous champagne houses in the region, where we sampled the local bubbly paired with fresh cheese.

Any time I looked at Meyer, I caught him staring back. There was never a moment that his eyes weren’t on me. Even in the mornings when I woke up he was already out of bed, but still close enough to hear me stir so he could hop back under the covers with me right away. I suspected he was working, much like I was when I checked my email on trips to the bathroom. But he’d never been so clingy, even when he was trying to play my captor. I let myself sink into every one of his touches, fall apart under each new kiss, because something about his possessiveness didn’t feel permanent. It felt like a last grasp at evaporating smoke.

The day before my parents were due to arrive, we walked down the street to the Arc de Triomphe and climbed to the top, as we had a few times a week since we’d arrived. There was something about standing up there, surrounded by centuries of historic architecture and fashion, that really hit home for me that I was standing in the City of Lights with the man I loved. It was cold and windy at the top, but we were bundled up tight; more importantly, we were together.

As we watched, the Eiffel Tower was suddenly doused in twinkling lights. We’d seen it every night since we arrived, but watching from the top of the Arc was a unique experience. I leaned against the bars keeping us back from the edge and tried to burn the memory into my mind. Meyer’s chest was warm against my back, and the tension released from my shoulders as his hands rested on my shoulders. There was a lot of wind up here, and even in my coat I was chilly, but I barely cared as we stood up there together. My parents would arrive tomorrow morning, and we would spend the final week of the year together as a family. By the time we got back to the States, the house would be almost halfway done. We’d move out of that damned house where so many horrors had taken place, burn it to the fucking ground, then dance on the ashes before letting the woods reclaim it. By the time our children were old enough to have memories, new growth would have reclaimed the space. We could forget any of this ever existed.

“I need to say something.”

I jumped a little as Meyer’s voice startled me out of my daydream. He held my shoulders as I started to turn around.

“Hang on. I need to get this out without looking at you. This whole trip has been building to something. It’s not going to be the easiest thing to do, but I think it’s the right thing. I can’t forgive myself for the way we met, and the things I put you through. It’s not fair for me to ask you to forgive me, either.”

My heart hammered in my chest. I couldn’t handle it if he was doing what it sounded like he was doing. This entire trip he’d been acting so strangely, speaking as if the end of this trip was going to be the end of the world. I’d expected his caring attitude, the commitment to cooking and spending time without staff to wait on us, to wear off by the end of our first week, but he’d continued without any sign of slowing down. He rarely left me alone, even to shower. I didn’t mind it, but his clinginess seemed like more than new relationship puppy love. It was like the last desperate grasp at something that was about to slip away.

And now he was saying it.

“You’re scaring me.”

“I know, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry for all the times I scared you. But after this, I don’t think you’re going to have to worry about that anymore, because you’re not going to want to see much of me.”

He removed his hands, and cold air met my back as he stepped away. I squeezed my eyes shut and gripped the cold bars in front of me, waiting for those words telling me that this dream was over, but he didn’t say anything.

I shifted slightly, and when he didn’t stop me, I whirled the rest of the way around to find him on one knee before me. The other tourists had all stopped taking pictures of the scenery and were staring at us.

I took a breath, and swallowed. “Stand up, and close that box.”

Far from looking rejected, his face transformed to one of passive acceptance. He slid the box back into his pocket as he rose back to two feet. “I’m sorry, I—”

He barely had time to open his arms to catch me as I launched myself at him.

“Of course I’ll fucking marry you, you dummy.”

“I thought you’d say no,” he gasped, struggling to breathe around my tight arms. I forced myself to loosen my hold and lean back a little to look at him in the face.

“What? Why?”

“I thought that if I actually confronted you with the idea of spending the rest of your life with me…bound to me…that you’d realize what a mistake this is and go running.”

I resisted the urge to slap him, even playfully. “Meyer, I love you, but that is literally the stupidest idea I’ve ever heard.” He bit his lip to suppress a smile. I sighed and disengaged myself from his arms. “Let me see that.” I grabbed the ring box from his pocket to look at its contents. I hadn’t looked closely enough to even see if it was real. But sure enough, a brilliant purple stone sparkled under the lights. “You thought I’d say no but you bought a real ring?” I raised one eyebrow at him, but his half smile was gone.

“I didn’t want to half-ass anything. But I really expected you to say no.” He took the box from me and ran his fingers over the stone, visibly pained. “Everything we’ve been through, everything you’ve done, it’s been to make me better. I haven’t given you anything. But I couldn’t bring myself to leave you, even for your own good. So I thought, even if I pushed you away, I would know I got to ask you.” He seized my hand in his, the trembling of his body passing to mine. “You don’t have to say yes.”

I twisted my hand to hold his, squeezing tight to still his movements. “And what if I want to?” Extending my left hand, I looked expectantly between him and the ring.

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