Page 76 of The Hundred Loves of Juliet
He shifts his weight on the bed, embarrassed at my gawking. “I met Julius, the president, when he brought an antique monstrance clock to me in Bern to restore. We became friends.”
As if that explains how Sebastien has a supersecret, private bank account. I’m still getting used to the truth that he’s lived for centuries.
But I do appreciate Sebastien’s modesty about how he got the account. I wouldn’t have fallen for him if he were a flashy big spender, if he’d strolled into The Frosty Otter that first night all blinged out.
“Wait a second,” I say, suddenly recalling his journals. “You were a clockmaker in Switzerland in the 1500s. You’ve been with the Weiskopf Group for five hundred years, and they’ve never been like, ‘Hey, that’s kinda weird, someone should take a closer look at this account’?”
Sebastien shrugs with one shoulder. “Something like that. They’re very discreet; they’ve never asked me about myself, andI’ve never offered. Like I said, it’s good to have a few people you can trust. They could handle Merrick, if you want.”
I’m about to tell Sebastien it’s okay, he doesn’t have to bring in his team, but then I think about how great it’s been to have him here today—as backup on the porch with Merrick, to bring me cake when I needed it, to put in a call to his friend at the airline. I don’t have to do everything on my own.
“That would give me some peace of mind, thanks. I’m not sure my bargain basement suburban divorce lawyer is up to fighting Merrick’s Beverly Hills bulldogs.”
“Consider it done. I’ll give Sandrine Weiskopf—the current president—a call in a minute. As for what to do about this rental cottage, I was thinking…” Sebastien wraps his arms around me. “What if you came and stayed with me instead?”
“You’ve already done so much—”
“Hear me out,” he murmurs into my ear.
With his voice all low and rumbly like that, Sebastien could sell me snake oil. I’d buy a gallon of it.
“My house is big enough that you’ll have as much peace and quiet as you need to work on your novel,” he says. “Not sure if you noticed, but I’m not a particularly garrulous guy.”
I laugh. “No, you’re not.”
“Also,” Sebastien says, “my journals are in my library. If you were at my house, it would be easier for you to access them, if you need them for your story.”
I pick at the comforter. “I’m sorry I read through them before, without asking.”
Sebastien cups my cheek and kisses me. “It’s your past, too.”
I shake my head. Not because I don’t believe, but because I’m still trying to understand it.
I’m thinking about this when it occurs to me. “Are you inviting me to stay with you so you can keep watch over me? Because of the curse?”
He hesitates.
So there’s some truth to what I’ve said.
But then Sebastien looks me in the eye. “Helene, I would never…The point of me moving to Alaska was to try to let youlive your life. If you told me that you wanted to keep working on your novel in Ryba Harbor but I had to leave, I would. I’d get on the first plane out of Anchorage to wherever it would take me, just to do as you wished. So I promise, I would never, ever invite you to stay with me in order to keep you in a gilded cage. This isyourlife, and you get to decide if you want me in it or not.”
Sebastien flinches at the final sentence, but no matter how hard it would be for him to leave me, I believe it when he says he would. He’s already tried to hide from me in the remoteness of Alaska. Then when I showed up anyway and insisted on chasing him down, he attempted to make me hate him. Plus, Sebastien rarely says this many words all at once, which proves to me how much this means to him. I’m guessing it takes a lot to get him to hold forth like that.
I hug him and rest my head in the crook of his neck. “Are you always this good to me, Romeo?”
“I try,” he whispers.
“Thank you for letting me stay with you. I’ll pitch in around the house however I can—cleaning, cooking…Well, maybe not cooking.”
“No, please don’t cook,” Sebastien says. “I don’t want my kitchen to burn down.”
We both laugh.
“Okay,” I say. “I accept the terms of your offer. No cooking, I swear.”
HELENE
Sebastien has to run afew errands in town before we head back to his place, so I take the opportunity to tidy up the cottage before I leave it for the last time. There isn’t much to do, though, since I haven’t been here for days, and Merrick has so generously already packed my things.
