Page 90 of If It Can't Be Us

“Tell me about your first time,” I say, turning to look at him.

“Hmm?” he grunts, raising a brow.

“When did you lose your virginity?”

“I was sixteen.” His voice is low and gruff. “Her name was Emily. We had math together. She was popular… and so was I,” he chuckles. “She was a nice girl, everyone loved her, and she was really hot.” His hand feathers across my chest, cupping my breast, his thumb stroking back and forth against my skin, making me crave more of him. “We were at a party, and I was pretty drunk because I was a shit at that age. We went into one of the back bedrooms and shagged. I don’t remember many details, except that I enjoyed it,” he laughs, “and that kicked off an even wilder streak for me—horny and reckless. What about you?”

“I was seventeen… barely, Ben and I were at a party as well.” I smile, “he had opened a beer for the first time. When it was half drunk, I leaned over and told him I was ready. I loved him so much, it was just time, you know? We went back to his house, watched a movie and eventually did it. It was great… perfect, really. No regrets,” I say, reaching upward for his lips.

Leo tightens his grip on me, bringing me close to him, his cock hard and pressing against me. My fingers trace the script inked across the top of one pec, the words blending seamlessly into his skin. It’s sexy. “What does this tattoo say?” I ask, noticing the name Chloe at the end and assuming it’s for his sister.

“Je t’aime pour toujours, Chloe,” he murmurs, the words rolling off his tongue. “It means ‘Love you forever, Chloe.’”

“That’s sweet,” I say, admiring it with my fingers while also enjoying the feel of his muscles beneath my touch. God, his voice is always sexy, but the way he says it in French does something for me, low and smooth, like it’s second nature.

I slowly explore his upper body with my hands, feeling the warmth of his skin on my fingertips as the sound of our breath fills the air.

“Leo,” I say hesitantly, searching his eyes.

“Hmm?”

“Tell me about your mom,” I whisper, knowing there is something buried deep inside him. My voice shakes, fearing he might shut me out.

His eyes close tightly, and I think I’ve lost him.

He opens them, and a comfortable discomfort hangs in the air.

He clears his throat. “My mum left us when I was ten,” he says, his voice rough. “She was found a week later in a hotel room, dead.” His eyes find mine. “She committed suicide. And the last thing she said to me was that I made her want to die.” He takes a deep breath and exhales slowly, the hot air hitting the top of my forehead.

I blink multiple times, trying to keep tears from falling.

What the fuck?

“Oh my God.” I shake my head, unable to comprehend it. The difference in our mothers, the contrast between my childhood and his—it’s overwhelming. “I’m so sorry.” It’s all I can say.

“Don’t, Viv. Don’t say you’re sorry. She was mentally ill, but I’ve never wanted to feel sorry for her. I’ve held on to this anger and resentment for twenty-five years. It fueled me for a long time, made me who I am today. But I’m starting to see that maybe it’s time to let some of it go, even if it’s bloody hard.” He pauses, swallowing. “After you said you needed space, I realized I needed to deal with this, so I’ve been doing EMDR with Mer. But… I’m telling you this now—even though I’m working on it, I never want to talk about it again. Truly. You asked, and I’m trying to be open, but this is not a topic that brings joy to my life. You make me happy, and this thing is fucking evil. It has no place in our lives.”

I scowl slightly, then soften. “Okay… I promise I won’t bring it up again.” I bring a hand to his cheek, saying “Thank you for telling me,” and kiss him gently on the lips.

I’m overwhelmed, knowing he chose to face this for a chance to be with me—for us, wrapped in each other’s arms, sharing breath, our body heat simmering.

“I’d say I’m sorry for pushing you away, but I’m not,” I say earnestly. “If that’s what brought us here, then I’m not sorry at all.” I smooth my hand over his chest, “I think sex was bound to happen on this trip, and if I hadn’t done what I did, and you hadn’t gone to Meredith, things would have been a lot different right now.”

“You’re probably right,” he pauses, raising his brows, “We’d be in some deep shit,” he laughs, making me laugh too.

We spend a few minutes kissing, savoring each other, until Leo pulls back. “We should get ready for the day. We still have a lot to see and do in Paris.”

I smile up at him, soaking in this core memory while making space for it in my heart. I’m learning to move forward, keeping Ben’s memory alive within me at the same time, and it feels perfect right now.

The rest of our trip is pure bliss. We dive into the sights Paris has to offer, steal kisses in dimly lit alleyways, and get lost in each other’s arms. Between the tangled sheets and city streets, we share stories and secrets, laugh our asses off, and create memories that blend the old with the new.

Chapter 28

LEO

Thursday, May 2

One week after Paris

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