Page 70 of I Love You in French

In between recording sessions, I’ve been hurriedly planning a way to show Sparrow that I’m still here if she wants me. While I’ve sorted out the details, I’ve been doing everything I can not to hop on a plane. Her last message had me looking up flights.

And somehow, during the last song, the air has shifted. It’s almost like I can feel her near me, which I know is impossible. The click speeds up a bit, and I feel the energy pulse through my body. With Graham’s and Lily’s help (separately, of course), there’s a possibility that Sparrow and I may have another chance at this—a real chance from the start.

“Can we try it again?” Evan says, the sound of the click still keeping time in my ears.

I run my hand through my hair. “Are you sure? Because the last take felt like the best one so far, and I know that I’ve struggled a bit today, but I just want—”

“The full kind of love.”

I shake my head, the visceral reaction of hearing the angelic voice—her angelic voice—in my ears. I look toward the booth, but the glare isn’t showing me a clear picture.

“What—what did you say?” I ask into the void, a hint of desperation lacing my voice.

“Rafe.” I hear her again. “I want the full kind.”

I rip the earphones off my head and race out the door to the sound booth, where, standing near the digital mixer, is the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen in my life. Her eyes are full, her chocolate depths swimming with hope.

I brace myself on the door frame and wait. Everyone else has left, sneaking away to give us a moment, no doubt. “Sparrow?”

She nods and takes a step closer, then one more. I do the same, and we’re now inches apart. My heart is hitting my rib cage, and for a moment, my voice is gone as I hungrily take her in.

“Rafe?” She reaches for me, and I feel the cracking in my heart.

I’d built a wall around it when I left her town, piece by piece, but now it’s falling, brick by brick. I can almost hear the demolition between my ribs. Since we seem to do the silent thing so well, I reach toward her and let out a deep breath when our skin makes contact. She inhales sharply, and then her shoulders drop. We’re home. I allow my palm to mix with hers and slowly slide it up her arm until my hand is curved around the back of her neck. She’s shaking, and I can’t help but notice I am too.

Her breathing is shallow, like she’s waiting to see what I’ll do next. Now that she’s with me, I wonder the same thing myself. I reach my other hand forward and almost moan when my palm moves over the curve of her hip bone and up and around to catch her waist. Holding her and feeling her near me has my spine humming. Her hand reaches out and brushes against my chest, settling over my heart. I grin at this. This would be where she would go first since she owns it anyway.

Not wanting to let her go but needing to see her fully, I slide the hand near her neck up, pushing the pad of my thumb across her blushing cheek to catch a falling tear.

When I lightly lift it from her face, I’m met with the eyes I’ve been dreaming about. Her eyes. The ones that are melted chocolate mixed with spun gold. Another tear falls down her face, and her eyelashes flutter. She opens her mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. Instead, she lets out a little cry, and suddenly, she’s clinging to me like I’m her favorite thing in the world.

Sparrow’s arms are tight around my neck, her body pressed against mine. She buries her face in my neck, her eyelashes brushing against my collar bone as she nestles in. She’s as close as she could possibly get to me, and I’m holding on to her for dear life. I nuzzle my nose into her shoulder and clutch onto her like she’s my everything. Because she is.

With one arm pinning her waist against me, the other caressing her, and my whole hand covering the base of her neck, I hold her.

She smells like butter and sugar and every future I could ever imagine for myself that’s worth writing about. I whisper over and over again all the things I’ve been wanting and waiting to tell her. How much I love her. How much she means to me. How she deserves everything that I could ever give her. How I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make her believe how valuable she is to me. How she’s everything I could’ve dreamed of. I switch back and forth between French and English, knowing she’ll understand me. It feels good to be fully myself and have her still hold on.

We’re both a blend of two worlds that happened to collide. And now we get to create a new world together. One where she knows she’s my favorite forever.

When we finally release our hold enough to look into each other’s eyes, Sparrow reaches up and gently wipes the tears that have fallen down my own face. “Rafe, I’m so sorry,” she whispers, her eyes searching mine.

“I’m sorry too,” I whisper back, my voice rough to my own ears. I brush a section of her hair away from her face and slowly tuck it behind her ear. “I should’ve told you sooner.”

She nods but then says, “Yes, I was upset. But I do understand.” She reaches up to play with the back of my hair, her kindness pulsing through her fingers. “But I also should’ve told you how I felt. That night—when you left.”

I tip my chin quickly to show her I know what she means. My brow furrows. “Why didn’t you?”

She traces the line I’ve created in my forehead, and I don’t miss the way her fingertips trace the scar over my eyebrow. She focuses on it before her eyes drop to mine, the warmth in them removing any remains of fear I have as to whether or not she’ll let me close this time.

“Because I loved you too much.” A grin hovers on one side of her face, her dimple starting to shine through. “Oh, my darling Rafe. Do you still doubt how valuable you are?”

I don’t waste another second before I lean down and catch her perfect mouth with mine. It tastes even better now that love has been spoken between us. It’s sweet and soft until I feel her make a hum that vibrates across my bottom lip. I take the kiss deeper, lifting her up until she’s wrapped her legs around my waist. I set her on the nearby stool, her hand sliding on the console. A weird music mix is now playing throughout the studio, but I can’t bring myself to care as I allow my hands to rediscover the curve of her waist while her hand wanders across my chest and back before sliding up to play with the ends of my hair.

“Keep it PG, you two!” I hear from outside the door.

And we do (mostly). But we’re desperate for each other, the distance and space and honesty creating a new sense of excitement between us. After being starved of this kind of love for so long, we’re so darn hungry. It’s familiar and altogether new. It’s heartbreaking and healing. It’s her and I choosing to move forward. Together.

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