Page 42 of Stolen Goods
He told her how the lights sparkled on the Seine at night, the way the city seemed to pause when the bells of Notre Dame rang, about the artists he’d met during an afternoon spent atop the steps of Montmartre. Then they moved away from Paris to the lily-pad-covered ponds of Giverny and the cathedral of Rouen, where Thad had spent an entire day sitting in a café watching the light dance across the façade. His voice sank to a whisper, laced with admiration and awe as he described walking in the steps of a master, naming Monet a god among men. Addy had never studied art before, but listening to Thad speak about his short dappled strokes and the thick layers of saturated paint, the way he used light as an object in and of itself, she wanted nothing more than to run to a museum. The passion in Thad’s voice bled into the air around them, sinking deep into her skin, making it tingle with all sorts of want.
For the rest of the afternoon, he took her on an artist’s tour of Europe, from the rolling countryside in the South of France where Van Gogh discovered his genius and eventually went mad, to the busy streets of Madrid where nestled in a private room in the Reina Sofia hangs one of the most influential paintings of all time,Guernica. Thad described the size and scope of the Sistine Chapel, the system of scaffolds Michelangelo employed to reach the ceiling, how he completed everything standing up—Can you even imagine the stiff neck?—and eventually went on to write a sonnet describing the less-than-ideal conditions. The Winter Palace in St. Petersburg, he said, gave a new definition to the wordgilt. Every window, every column, every doorframe was accented with gold leaf. There was even a room where every inch of the walls was gilded, and walking inside was like stepping into the center of the sun.
Addy pestered him with questions, but he didn’t get annoyed. He was a true artist, painting pictures with his words, vivid images that came to life inside her mind. Every so often, when he remembered, he’d take a break from the art to tell her about the food—the macarons in a pastry shop on the famous Champs-Élysées, the best gelato he’d ever tasted from a small hillside town in Tuscany, Hungarian chimney cakes that were dipped in sugar and sometimes filled with swirls of ice cream, and of course, many croissants—though Thad swore the best he tasted were in Austria and not France. A wistful expression crossed his face on more than one occasion, there and gone in a flash, making Addy wonder what he wasn’t telling her, memories too personal to share. But she didn’t press. For now, living vicariously was enough—was exactly the escape she needed.
They didn’t stop talking until the moon replaced the sun and the stars began to twinkle across the crystal-clear sky. Even then, the conversation only paused because Addy fell asleep somewhere in the middle of Arkansas. She woke to the gentle shake of a hand on her shoulder.
“Come on,” Thad murmured. “Time for bed.”
“Huh?” She turned over, blinking slowly. His warm smile was the first thing to come into focus, then the hum of southern crickets, the subtle smell of burning logs, and the branches arching overhead. “Where are we?”
“I pulled over into a campground for the night,” he explained, a twinkle in his eyes. “I, uh…borroweda tent from the owners of this car. I saw it in their garage and thought it might come in handy. Alas, no sleeping bags, but it’s better than nothing.”
If she weren’t so groggy, she might have had something to say about that. As it was, she simply followed as he led her from the car, keeping his palm to the small of her back to guide her. Addy crawled into the small tent set up a few feet from the back of the car. The ground was soft, pillowy from a thick patch of grass, but cool through the thin nylon despite the summer heat. She was so tired, she didn’t care. She bundled one of the extra shirts they’d bought into a pillow and curled up into a ball.
“I’ll be in the car, if you need me.”
That woke her up. Addy turned to find Thad leaning half-in and half-out of the tent. “You’re not staying?”
He licked his lips, finding her eyes through the darkness. “I just assumed you’d want to be alone.”
“I—” She paused, not sure what should come next. He was right—she should want to be alone. And yet, she couldn’t think of anything worse than spending the night in this cramped little tent all by herself. Vivid imaginations worked both ways, and in an unfamiliar place surrounded by unfamiliar sounds, she feared the worst. “But, um, won’t you sleep better in here? You drove so much today, and tomorrow will be the same. You need to rest too. You need it more than me.”
As far as excuses went, it was weak.
But it did the trick.
“Makes sense,” Thad muttered.
He rolled forward, landing smoothly by her side with all the grace of a jungle cat, movements fluid and fast.
Addy swallowed. “Good night, Thaddeus Ryder.”
She didn’t know why she used his full name—blame it on the sleep deprivation—but she liked the way it sounded rolling through her lips, almost regal. The only other time she’d said it had been as a shriek, but this time, she savored the elegant rhythm.
He chuckled softly. “Good night, Addison Abbot.”
They both fell silent, but they didn’t sleep. At least, Addy didn’t. The sound of their breathing filled the space, loud in a way that only happened in taut silence. Every time she inhaled, it sounded like roaring thunder. Addy counted in for three, then out for three, but the more she focused on her breath, the odder it began to sound. Strained, then too natural. Blaring, then too soft. Shuddering, then too smooth. The fabric walls closed in. The space seemed smaller and smaller with each passing second, tighter and tighter with each stilted breath. The cold seeped through the ground. Addy hugged her arms around her waist and pulled her knees into her chest. She shifted uncomfortably, accidentally brushing her bum against his hip for one burning moment, then inhaled sharply, far too noticeable. So, she stopped breathing, but that was obvious too. The man by her side was quiet, perfectly at ease. Addy fought for the same composure, but her muscles only grew tenser, shivering from the cold and the strain. Her clicking teeth resembled a roaring jackhammer in the silence.
Just when she thought Thad had to be asleep, oblivious to the turmoil taking place inside her mind, an arm swooped around her waist and pulled her solidly against a warm chest. “I can’t sleep with your teeth chattering like that.”
He said it like an apology, but she didn’t mind.
She didn’t mind at all.
Addy wriggled closer, until her spine was flush with his abdomen and the heat from his body seared like her own personal furnace. He shifted his legs so they bent along the same line as hers, then dug his chin into the nape of her neck.This short hair is coming in handy, she thought, relishing in the way his breath blew across her skin like a soft caress, shooting a delicious tingle down her spine. For a moment, with his arms wrapped around her and their bodies surrounded by the sounds of nature, the real world felt very far away.
“Thad?” she whispered, testing if he was asleep.
“Yes?” he drawled.
“You said before that maybe this would be easier for me if we pretended it was something else?” He nodded against her shoulder. For a brief moment in the dark, Addy found her confidence, her voice. In a few days, all of this would be over and he’d be gone, so she didn’t want to waste time being afraid. She just wanted to be here, on this crazy adventure, with him. “Do you think, when we wake up tomorrow, we could pretend we’re just two people on a road trip? Not Bonnie and Clyde, but Addy and Thad? No talk about what happened? No talk about what might? Just two people who needed to get away.”
“I’d like that, Addison.” His voice was far away and sleepy. A long yawn interrupted his thoughts as the arm around her waist grew heavier and heavier. Addy’s eyes grew heavy too, slipping closed now that she felt safe and warm and cared for in a way she’d never been before. “I’d like that very much.”
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Thad
