Authors: Daisy Prescott
Tags: #We Were Here
Christopher breaking the rules delighted me. How could I say no?
He held out his arm and I took it, hooking mine around his forearm.
I didn’t expect the modern building of St. Jeanne’s church. Nor to cry visiting it.
After our tour, we stood outside in the golden evening light. Christopher, being the proper gentleman, had a tissue for my tears.
“Joan is my new patron saint.”
“I support this idea. After all, she is the patron saint of badass girls and strong women everywhere.” He put his hand on my shoulder and I leaned into him.
“She changed history and died at nineteen. I’m twenty and have nothing to show for it.”
“You’re a late bloomer, love. I have faith you’ll change the world or at least the hearts of a few men.”
“Do you call every woman love?” I stood up straighter.
He thought for a moment before responding. “No. Only the ones I fancy.”
“Do you call Katie love?” I had no right to be jealous of any woman in his life. He wasn’t mine and I knew he never could be.
He stepped away abruptly and I almost tumbled over. “Who told you about Katie?”
I twisted my ponytail over my shoulder. “Joe and James.”
“Bloody hell. Those two couldn’t keep their mouths shut for all the ale in England.”
“Is she your girlfriend?”
“It’s complicated.”
“That’s not a no.”
He chewed on his bottom lip. I watched as it went white and then deepened red. Color ruddied his cheeks
“Lizzy.” His voice sounded pained. “I never imagined meeting a girl like you.”
I held my breath. The way he spoke my name reminded me of being back inside the church. It held reverence and awe.
“You’ve probably figured out by now my life is not my own. Unlike you, who has always been taught you can be anything you want, do anything, go anywhere, my path is more narrow. There are expectations for me to live up to, or fail trying.” Resolved sadness cloaked his face. The sweet smile and wicked spark in his eye disappeared.
Pulling at my ponytail, and feeling even more awkward, I tucked my hands into the pockets of my pink coat.
“Katie, or Catherine, is someone I’ve known since nursery. Her grandparents and my grandparents grew up together.”
“Are you betrothed to her?”
He chuckled. “No, this isn’t an arranged marriage situation. But my mother and grandmother would be delighted about the match.”
The meaning of his words sank in. “And you? Will you be delighted?”
“Katie’s a great girl. The best.”
He didn’t say he loved her.
“What do you want?”
He sat on a bench and held out his hands to take mine, pulling me between his knees. “What I want is of little importance.”
“Says who?”
He dipped his chin, then peered up at me. “Everyone.”
Removing my hand from his grip, I pushed the lock of hair off of his forehead. He hummed at my touch, encouraging me. I scratched my nails across his scalp. I felt him grip the back of my thighs right above the knee. Through the thin material of my pale green floral dress, the heat from his palms blazed on my skin.
With my other hand, I lifted his chin. “I believe in you. Everyone deserves to have their own dreams come true.”
His fingers flexed against the back of my knees, sending waves of something electric up my body. “Don’t.”
My head jerked and my hands dropped like I’d been physically shocked.
“I’m sorry. What?” I needed to hear him say it again.
“Don’t waste your time on me, Elizabeth. I’m not worth it.” Pain so real it had to have physically hurt clouded his eyes. Unshed tears reddened the whites, making the blue irises stand out even more.
“That’s the biggest lie I’ve ever heard spoken. And my father is a salesman.”
He let his gaze drift to the ground. “I wish . . .”
I stilled and waited.
Suddenly, he stood up, towering over me. Determination blazed in his set jaw.
Without another word, his hand framed my cheek and his lips found mine. I stood on my tiptoes to even out our height difference. He pulled me closer with his arm braced against my lower back while keeping one hand on my jaw.
My arms rested on his shoulders, my fingers reclaimed their spot in his hair.
Air felt like water and the only thing to save myself from drowning was his kiss. I inhaled him instead of oxygen, feeding something deep within me with his essence. My body sung along to the beat of his heart and the rhythm set by his mouth on mine.
“I can’t.”
When he stopped, everything I’d been feeling ceased as if it never occurred. I held my breath, my blood rushing in my ears and my lips on fire from his kiss.
“I wasn’t supposed to meet someone like you. No, that’s not right. Not someone like you. Only you.”
I gasped, oxygen burning my lungs. His words didn’t make sense. Feeling dizzy, I sunk onto the bench.
Christopher paced in front of me. “I’d ruled out your existence ages ago. I resigned myself to a life of duty, being a good Liddell. Companionship and the kind of love you grow into with time and age. Then you showed up, crashing into my carefully constructed façade with all your American brashness and silly notions about dreams.”
I frowned at his harsh words. “You have the oddest way of insulting me. I don’t know whether to thank you or slap you.”
“I deserve the slap. I shouldn’t have kissed you.”
“Is Katie your girlfriend?”
He shook his head while crouching in front of me. “It’s complicated. Yes, we’ve dated, and at times she’s been my girlfriend.”
“Do you love her?”
In his silence, my heart broke a little.
“It’s complicated. The simple answer is yes. The longer answer qualifies that love. Like a friend. Sometimes a sister. Once upon a time as a lover.”
I wanted to shove him away for his honesty. I pushed at his shoulders, needing more space. He didn’t budge. Instead, he grabbed my hands and held them to his chest.
“Let me go.” My voice remained steady even as my heart angrily shook the cage of my ribs.
“You were never mine to hold onto.” His hands dropped to his thighs. “You deserve to be happy. I envy the man who gets to be the one you love. He’ll be the luckiest bloke on the planet.”
I didn’t want some other man.
My heart wanted him.
“If . . .” He stood again, but this time he stepped away. With a shake of his head, he mumbled something to himself.
“Pardon me?”
“I was about to go down an impossible path of hypotheticals. If is a dangerous word. I’m sorry, Lizzy. More than you can ever imagine.”
I nodded because I was sorry, too. If the Duke of Windsor could give up his throne for a divorced American, why couldn’t he stand up to his family obligations? Maybe he wasn’t the prince charming I’d first imagined.
“I shouldn’t have kissed you, but I’ll never regret it. Or meeting you. Even if your memory is a reminder of everything I can’t have.” He stuffed his hands in his front pockets. His hair flopped down over his face. I wanted to brush it back again. With his ruddy cheeks and sad expression, he looked completely lost.
I hoped his loyalty and sense of duty would be rewarded. He deserved happiness.
“Fortune favors the brave,” I whispered.
“Be brave for both of us, Lizzy.” He leaned down and kissed the top of my head. It was both endearing and crushing.
“If I Ever Lose My Faith in You” ~ Sting
CHRISTOPHER SAT ALONE
on the ride back to Paris. Pretending to sleep, I leaned my head on the window and watched the twinkling lights of the most romantic city on earth pass by. Rain sprinkled the windows and the shadows of the drops sliding down the glass hid the tears on my cheeks.
I declined the offer to join the Brits for a drink after we arrived. Christopher gave me a small wave a la the Queen. I curtsied.
His grandmother took a turn for the worse later in the night. He flew out the next morning to be by her side.
The following week, a small article about her funeral appeared in the
Sunday Times
. I went to Notre Dame and lit a candle in front of Joan for the woman Christopher loved so dearly.
He never returned to the program. James told me Kit had worked out a deal with his professors to finish from England.
Weeks later at the good-bye party Joe gave me the letter. He apologized and said Kit had left it for me, but it had gotten lost in his room.
Those few weeks wouldn’t have changed anything.
Part of me wanted to throw it away and never know. What weight would his words have? Nothing had changed. I decided to wait to open it. Maybe with an ocean and time between us, it would no longer break my heart to remember he existed.
Two weeks before the end of the program, Maggie announced Julien would be coming back to Washington with her. It wasn’t a total shock. They’d been inseparable for months. I guess she took my advice and opened herself to the possibilities.
How ironic.
The night she told me she loved him, I decided to read Christopher’s letter.
Two things I knew about myself.
One, I was an emotional masochist.
Two, I was a hopeless romantic.
If Maggie could fall head over heels in love, there had to be hope for me. Someday. If not charming Christopher Liddell, then someone else was out there waiting for me.
I tore open the envelope and pulled out a piece of thick linen stationary. It felt expensive in my hand. My finger traced his neat penmanship before I let my mind translate the shapes into letters and words.
Lizzy,
I’m happier knowing you exist in the world.
Be brave and love deeply.
For both of us.
Yours always,
Christopher
There wasn’t a return address. Nothing about staying in touch. No hint at a hypothetical future.
I kissed his name and said good-bye to the first man who stole my heart.
Like Richard the Lionheart, my heart would forever be separated from my body. A piece of it remained in France; another part now lived in England. At least I had enough remaining pieces to put back together and carry on.