Page 83 of The Saint

“Absolutely.”

“Good,” he said. “Just wanted to make sure.”

20

FLEUR

Bastien wasn’t himself, even when a week had come and gone.

He didn’t look at me the same, like the bruises were too painful to bear. Only when they started to fade did he behave more like himself. He was home with me every day, slept through the night beside me, worked out in the morning before he had breakfast with me. We didn’t talk about what had happened. It seemed like he wasn’t ready for that.

We lay together in bed, naked under the sheets, his skin fiery to the touch because he was still warm after doing all the work just moments before. But he was never hot enough to push me away and cool off.

I traced his jawline with my fingers, feeling the coarse hairs of his beard. “How are you?”

He hiked my leg over his hip, his hand on my ass. He didn’t address the question, sidestepped it with his silence like he didn’t want to confront it.

“If you want to go back, you can?—”

“I have no desire to go back.”

He seemed distant and withdrawn, carrying a depression so heavy I could see it weigh down his shoulders. “Then tell me what bothers you.”

“What bothers me?” he asked. “It fucking hurts to look at you. That’s what bothers me.”

“I’m fine, Bastien. It’s already healed so much.”

“Doesn’t matter. I failed as a man when I let it happen in the first place.”

“You did not fail me,” I said gently.

“I did. If Godric hadn’t gotten there, you would have been entirely on your own. I wasn’t coming, Fleur. I was trapped in a warehouse fifty miles away, and it would have been literally impossible for me to save you. I promised I wouldn’t let anything happen to you…and I broke that promise.”

We finally had our lives together, finally had the peace that we desired, but it was destroyed by his disgust in himself. “That night we had dinner at Jules Verne…and I walked out. I left because I was scared of your world.”

“As you should have been. I wish you hadn’t come back.”

That hurt more than when I’d been punched in the face. “I came back because I chose this life with you. I knew the risks but chose to stay. You put this all on yourself and forget that I was an equal participant. When I drowned, I still chose to stay. I chose to risk that all over again because the alternative was unthinkable.”

He continued to stare at me, but his eyes were so hard and vicious. “I made you feel like shit for leaving.”

“I forgive you.”

“I don’t deserve your forgiveness.”

“Bastien.” I didn’t want any more of this self-loathing. Didn’t want any more of this distance and coldness. “We’ve made it to the other side. We’re here now. I don’t want to think about the past when I’m so excited about our present and our future. I know it’s hard, but you need to let it go.”

“I never let anything go.”

“I know.” I cupped his face. “But I need you to let this go. Because we finally have the life that I wanted, and I want to enjoy every second of it because forever will go by so fast.”

He closed his eyes like I’d said the perfect thing to halt his rage. He released a quiet sigh, let out his frustration and despair.

“It’s okay.” I moved my fingers into his hair, wanting my man back with me, wanting his blue eyes and his smile and the warmth he gave me with just a look.

He inhaled a breath before he opened his eyes again, looking at me with a sharper stare, a hardness that wasn’t angry, just focused. “At least I have the rest of my life to make it up to you.”

I went to his mother’s house several times a week, and together, we planned the wedding. A wedding normally took place a year after the engagement, but since we both wanted to be married now, and Bastien had a lot of connections with pretty much everyone in Paris, I was able to book everything I wanted with just six weeks’ notice.

---