French's mood was the best it had been in days; she felt as light as air and imbued with a wonderful positive energy. This time she would make sure she stayed happy. She sat in the backseat of the black Mercedes-Benz® taxi and drummed her fingertips on her thigh. Parisian cab drivers were known for their speedy driving, but she was impatient and willed the driver to go even faster than he already was. She wanted to hurry back to Aidan. He was exhausted from his trip and had been deeply asleep when she left. She hadn't bothered to wake him, thinking she would probably be back before he even knew she had left. Now that they had reached an understanding of sorts, she didn't want to be apart from him anymore. She would retrieve her belongings from her cousin's house and spend the rest of her time in Paris with Aidan.
She cautioned herself not to move too fast, not to be too optimistic. She couldn't help it, though. Aidan had proven that he wanted her, without a doubt. And not just sexually. She had looked into his eyes, had fallen into those deep, dark blue eyes, and seen everything she needed to know there. She was sure he loved her.
Or almost sure
, the monster doubt reared its head.
Stop it. You know it. You know
him
. He wouldn't have come all this way if he didn't love me
, she told herself.
Right?
Ignoring the doubt that had constantly undermined her, she told herself that this time would be different. They hadn't talked yet, but she would make sure that they did as soon as she saw him again in less than an hour. She hadn't told him that she loved him, hadn't pitched her plan on how they would be able to continue their relationship. But, she was sure he'd agree to it. Especially, after the afternoon they had spent in bed.
She blushed at the thought, crossed her legs over the twist of arousal that shot low across her abdomen. It never ceased to amaze her that he could pull such a wicked sexual response from her. She had never been so uninhibited with other men. Not that there had been many. Her friend Fifi, a world-class connoisseur of men, thought she was too uptight to enjoy sex, while French had often wondered what all the fuss was about. Now she knew. Maybe it was all about finding the right person.
With the few other lovers she'd had, she felt detached during sex. She couldn't stop thinking about other things, mundane things, when she was intimate with other men. It was decidedly un-sexy to compose a grocery list or run through her schedule for the next day in the middle of sex. And when she wasn't thinking about random stuff, she was feeling self-conscious because she wasn't 'into' the whole experience. She'd felt even more self-conscious when she tried to fake an interest in what was going on. To her ears, she'd sounded like an absolute idiot, her responses patently false. But the men hadn't seemed to mind. Come to think of it, she wasn't sure they'd even noticed.
With Aidan, it was different. He could look at her in a certain way, he didn't even have to touch her, and she'd go up in flames. She wondered if it would always be that way between them. She hoped so; she was getting used to being with him, doing things that would have shocked her to death if she had thought of them before. She liked doing those wicked things, liked being free enough with him to tell him what she wanted, what she needed, from him. As it turned out, she trusted him enough – loved him enough – to be herself with him without fear of rejection or reprisal. If only she could learn to transfer that sense of freedom from the bedroom to all aspects of their relationship.
She leaned her head back against the seat with a little smile on her face.
Yes, this time will be different –
I'll
be different. I'll make sure of it
, she promised herself. She would do her damnedest not to let her fears and trust issues rule her anymore. She pledged to herself that she would try very hard not to respond in her habitual fashion to situations that made her uncomfortable or frightened. It was imperative that she vanquish those habits in order to move forward in her life; she realized, now, how much she had held herself back by indulging her rampant distrust of people. She knew, deep down in her heart, that she could trust Aidan. The first trial of her newfound determination to break free of old habits would be to lay her heart bare to him. She wanted him to know how she felt about him, wanted to tell him as soon as she could. In that direction lay true freedom.
The cab pulled up in front of Marie-Josée's apartment and she jumped out and ran inside. She bounded into the apartment only to find it empty. Her cousin and Nicolàs were still out. That suited her plans just fine. The less explaining she had to do, the less time she'd be away from Aidan. She was very eager to get back to him and didn't want to waste time chatting with her cousin and Nic. She flew down the hall to her room and stripped off her clothes. Pinning her hair up so it wouldn't get wet, she took a quick shower. She performed her usual post-shower ritual cursorily and darted back down the hall to her room. She rang for another cab, then dressed in jeans, a lush, sage-green sweater and her running shoes. She repacked her airplane carry-on bag and was ready to go.
She was back on the street and into the taxi in record time. She bade the driver take her back to Aidan's place and once they were on their way, called her cousin to let her know about her change of plans.
"Hey, it's me."
"How did it go?" Marie-Josée asked eagerly.
"Fine. More than fine, I think," French replied, a smile in her voice. "I was just calling to tell you that I'll be spending the next few days with Aidan at his hotel."
"Ohhh, really?" came her cousin's exaggerated reply. "I guess things must have gone pretty damned well for you two!"
"Well, we still have some talking to do," French blushed, "we got a little – um – sidetracked earlier."
Marie-Josée guffawed and said, "Oh, I'll just bet you got sidetracked, little cousin! I knew he didn't come chasing after you for just a
talk
!"
"Anyway, as I was saying... I don't know exactly what's going to happen, but I think we're going to be OK."
"I knew it! Aidan's no fool; he knows a good thing when he's got it."
"What about me? I know when I've got it good, too! Hey, for that matter, I know when
you've
got it good," she added pointedly, referring to the clandestine affair Marie-Josée had been having with their close childhood friend.
"Touché, little cousin, touché. Will we see you before you leave town?"
"Yes, definitely. I'll call you tomorrow so we can schedule dinner. There's New Year's Eve, too. We should do something fun."
"You sound so happy, French. I'm glad. And yes, we should do something fun to ring in the New Year," Marie-Josée concurred. "Let's talk tomorrow."
"OK, 'bye," French flipped her phone closed, ending the connection. She
had
sounded happy on the phone, much more ebullient than she had sounded in years. She grinned foolishly to herself, thinking,
