Page 52 of Eternally London

In time, we pull our faces away from one another’s, and I drop my feet and stand. We grab Loïc’s bags and catch a taxi back to the hotel. I have so much to tell him, but instead, I just hold his hand and stare into his eyes in the backseat of the taxi. If I wasn’t so deep into Loïc, I might have complained about the pungent smell of body odor and sweat that existed in the cab, but I barely register it. Instead, the only thought that holds space in my mind is how very much I love this man.

The second my hotel room door is closed behind us, Loïc’s lips collide with mine—hot and needy. He pushes me against the wall. His hands slide beneath my shirt, burning my skin with his touch. I groan as he explores.

I rip his shirt off over his head.

He tugs mine off.

I unbutton my pants and step out of them.

Loïc removes everything from the waist down as well.

He reaches one hand behind my back and unsnaps my bra, allowing it to fall.

His lips leave mine, and he scans my body as I take in his in turn. His eyes are clouded with love, lust, and raw desire, and I know my own are a mirror reflection of his.

“I love you, babe,” he says as he lifts one of my legs up, cradling it in his elbow and pushing it toward the wall.

“I love you, too,” I say on a moan as he enters me.

My head rolls back against the wall as Loïc moves inside me.

He takes us to magical places.

After we reunite against the entry wall, we take a shower. Then, we make love again in the bed. This time is much less frantic, more relaxed. We leisurely enjoy each other’s bodies in all the ways that we missed while I was gone.

“Ah,” I sigh loudly. Very content, I lie back, snuggled atop Loïc’s outstretched arm.

“Good for you?” he asks with a smile.

“The best. And you?”

“The best,” he answers before kissing the top of my head. “So, now that we’ve gotten that out of the way,” he says with a smirk, “do you want to tell me everything that’s been going on?”

So, I do. I tell him about the people I’ve met—men, women, and children. I tell him about the horrors these kind human beings have lived through. Tears roll down my cheeks as I tell him story after story. As I retell each one, I see the subject of the story perfectly in my mind—their abused and severed bodies, their fear, their sadness, their heartache, and finally, their hope as a smile graces each of their faces. These people have lost so much but have managed to keep the goodness in their hearts.

Loïc holds me as I cry, reliving the nightmare of these people’s experiences.

Then, I tell him about the baby girl.

“I love her, Loïc. Down to the very core of my soul, I love her. She was the first person with albinism that I met on this journey, and her sweet little face has been with me the entire time. I think about her all day long. I worry about her. I dream about her. I can’t leave here without her.” I shake my head. Now sitting up, I face Loïc. “I want you to meet her and see what I see. I hope you feel the same way I do because something inside me truly believes that she was always meant to be mine. To be ours.”

“I’m sure I will. I feel like I could already love her because your adoration for her is so strong. Your love is infectious in the best of ways.” He smiles sweetly.

“And you’d be okay with adopting?” I ask.

“You know I am. I told you that we’d have a family one way or another, London.”

“I know,” I agree. “I never thought adoption would satisfy me as a mother until I saw her. Now, I know that I couldn’t love her more if she were biologically my own.”

I fill him in on the steps already in place for the adoption. So many court-ordered forms to be signed, visas, a home study, documentation, and a passport. I’d feel more overwhelmed if I didn’t have the best team available on my side. I tell Loïc about the lawyer my dad found us and what the lawyer said.

It’s a lot to take in—everything that goes along with an international adoption. I am pleased with the amount of progress that’s taken place in less than a week’s time.

“I just can’t go home. I want to stay in one of the hotels in her town, so I can see her every day. I have to make sure she’s okay and being taken care of. She’s so little and fragile. There are evil people out there who see her as a winning lotto ticket. In reality, I don’t know what I can personally do to protect her. But I know I can’t leave her. You know? I just pray she stays safe until we can get her out of here and take her home.”

And, once again, six months sounds so very long.

“Well, I can’t wait to meet her.” A genuine smile graces his face. “You’ve changed. You’re different,” he tells me.

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