Page 30 of Falling for Paris
“Hold me for as long as you can, Rafael,” she said sleepily. “And when you can’t,I’llholdyou.”
Hold me for as long as you can, Rafael. And when you can’t, I’ll hold you.
Her words echoed in his head as he breathed through the aches of the early morning. If he took his medication and performed his usual exercises, there was no need for his illness to take over. That was the key. The pain was always waiting at the edges, ready to attack, but he fought it with a relentless pain management routine.
Sometimes he won, but not always.
“You never take it off?” she said from the bed. He had been looking out of the patio doors, unaware of being watched. A flush of self-consciousness hit him and a small seizure worked up his arm. But he breathed through it before facing her.
“The compression sleeve helps a lot.”
“Are you well today? Are—”
“Stop,” he barked, unable to hold back his irritation. “I’d rather not do a detailed report of my condition, Tori. I’m well aware of how bad it is and would rather not explain myself every time I need to manage it.”
The hurt that flashed across her beautiful face humbled him.
“I’m sorry, Tori.” His voice was a mere glimpse of the deep regret in his heart. Sitting at the edge of the mattress, Rafael reached out to find her hand and clasp their fingers. “I know you are concerned. I will let you know if I need help.”
She nodded while blinking slowly. “You’re right, though. I’ve been told that I overstep. I realized that about myself.”
“Now hold on,” Rafael urged, “that’s not what I meant. I’m just a man with a gorgeous woman in his bed and would rather talk about her.”
Features softening somewhat, Victoria smiled. It wasn’t as open and gleeful as was her custom, but he would take it.
“Now, what should we order for breakfast?”
***
It was blissful. He could barely trust his luck but he would use the word because it fit. The second week of the course was turning out to be sheer bliss.
He had been staying in her apartment every night. Rafael only returned to Inez’s place to shower in the mornings. Then, he would go to the school where the first sight of Victoria Espinoza stirred him anew, as if he hadn’t just had her hours prior.
They didn’t announce their current circumstances. And he wasn’t the kind of man to grab her in front of everyone. But they didn’t hide their connection either. Sometimes, when he passed her workstation during class, he would allow himself an extra brush of their hands or a playful wink to make her blush. And whenever they found themselves alone, he kissed her as hard and hot as she would let him. Every day, he would wrap up at the school, meet her somewhere, eat in or eat out, and make love to her all night.
The more mundane aspects of the course proceeded much like the first week. All participants—including the guest lecturers—enjoyed the uniqueness of the class. He didn’t have to cook in front of people yet still felt connected to the experience in a couple of ways. He didn’t realize how much his years of cooking had accumulated an immense storehouse of practical tips that people seemed to appreciate. And random trivia, or what Patrice called “content,” seemed to receive “positive comments” from “a diverse pool of subscribers.” Whatever that meant.
Mostly, he enjoyed talking about his guests. Promoting their businesses. Highlighting their place in the Parisian culinary scene. Each one had been part of his journey at one time or another.
Even Marcus, with his pretentious airs, wiggled into the schedule at the tail end of the Friday session. He convinced Rafael, rightfully, that capping off the experience with a wine pairing event would be appropriate.
When the time came for the students to disperse, the hugs and good wishes gave way to some nostalgic tears. He shook everyone’s hand because, well, he didn’t do hugs. Rafael stayed at the edges of the kitchen lab and watched her. Everyone embraced and gushed over Victoria in ways that reflected only a fraction of his adoration.
They hadn’t discussed what would happen after the course because part of him couldn’t think past the perfect rhythm of that blissful week. They’d talk, but he was in no rush to face the inevitable end.
He caught only part of a conversation. “He hasn’t brought you there? It’s gorgeous. They used to entertain all the time.” Marcus was chatting with Victoria while nursing the last of his wine. Most students had left but a few sat around, reluctant to leave.
“They?” Her voice was hitched, alerting Rafael to the questions ahead.
“Oh, I mean, um…” At a loss for words, Marcus deflected. “The Chablis was sublime, was it not? Such a delightful summer drink.”
Glancing in Rafael’s direction, Tori looked to have swallowed her questions. He hated that she turned timid. Without thinking, he reached over to hold her hand. Patrice’s raised brow and the Swedish woman’s giggle filtered into his consciousness. His primary attention, however, was focused on the woman whose hand was warm, soft, andessential.
“I need a minute with you,” he said, pulling her along and not waiting for a reply.
In the pantry, he put his lips to her knuckles before saying, “Go ahead. Ask me.”
“Ask you,” she mimicked.
