Anywhere (21 page)

Asher put his arm around my shoulders, pulled me close, and kissed the side of my head. “I love the way you think,” he said. “What say we start now?”

“Agreed,” I said, and ignored the way my heart sped up when he used the word
love
.

By the time we were on our third crepe vendor, I was starting to feel a little sick.

“I need Real Food,” I said, and offered him the rest of mine. He took it and put the whole thing in his mouth, chocolate dripping down one side of his face. I laughed and reached up to catch the drip with my finger.

Asher grabbed my wrist and kept my hand near his mouth. His eyes never leaving mine, he took my finger into his mouth and slowly, sensuously sucked the chocolate off of it.

I’d had no idea that fingers could be so sensitive…because though his tongue was twirling my finger, I could feel the effects ELSEWHERE.

And I wasn’t laughing anymore. I’m pretty sure I just stood there, mouth ajar, staring at him. When he finally released my hand and grinned at me, I wasn’t sure what to do, where to look. He’d enjoyed that. Thoroughly. He hadn’t missed the effect it’d had on me—he’d watched my face the entire time. I didn’t know what to think about that.

So I looked everywhere but at him, trying to remember what we had been doing. Food. That’s right. I needed food. A market, so I didn’t have to sit across from him in a restaurant, trying not to think about what was to come. I wanted to be amidst crowds, distracted. I didn’t want to think.

“How about a picnic?” I said, starting to walk in what I hoped was the right direction. It was a wonder I could still remember I was in Paris. Asher didn’t say anything, just took my hand, which made my heart beat stupid-fast, and walked with me.

We eventually found a bakery where we picked up a baguette, and a market where we bought a few different cold salads and a couple bottles of water. Then we took our picnic and found a bit of shade in the green behind Notre Dame.

Notre Dame, if you’ve never seen it, is this huge gothic cathedral with spires rising up to the skies and gargoyles sticking out along the sides. Although, honestly, after having stood in St. Peter’s Basilica only a month ago, Notre Dame didn’t seem as large as it should have. But then, I had a feeling nothing ever would.

“I wonder if they have gargoyle souvenirs,” I said, staring at the church. “They MUST, right?”

“Lucky gargoyle foot key chains?” Asher said.

“Or a stone-carved gargoyle coffee mug.”

“Exactly. Who wouldn’t want to drink out of that?”

“Hats with gargoyles sticking out all around.”

“You know, I think you should offer your souvenir-designing services to all of Europe. Your natural talent is being wasted.”

“I do seem to have that
je ne sais quoi.
”

“You’ve got something, all right.” And he laughed when I reached over to hit him.

I watched him for a moment, looking so relaxed and happy. I was going to miss him so, so much. He caught me staring and gave me this sad, sweet smile, like he knew what I was thinking.

“What are you going to do?” He tapped my leg. “You know, after the wedding and all.”

That was a good question. One that I didn’t have much of an answer to.

“I don’t really know,” I said, picking at a hunk of bread. My stomach tightened just thinking about it. “The only thing I really know is that I need to be far away from my mom, and I’m not sure where that will be yet. And then I have to find a job.”

“In that order?”

“Yup. I know it’s backwards, but I figure I can wait tables or work retail just to pay the rent while I look for a Real Job. Or, even better, figure out what I really want to do with my life.” I shrugged. “I just know I’ve got to be on my own if I want my life to be mine, not hers.” I looked at him. “Does that sound terrible? Wait. Don’t answer that unless it’s
no
.”

He shook his head, reached over to tuck some loose hair behind my ear. “No. It’s not terrible. Wanting your life to be your own doesn’t mean you don’t love her, aren’t grateful for all she’s done.”

“She is SO not going to see it that way.”

“She’ll adapt. People always do if given enough time.”

I was afraid there would never be enough time, truthfully. She was going to be irate at my plans, and would do everything she could to stop me, pull out every manipulative technique she knew.

I just hoped I was ready for it.

I had to be.

“Baby stuff!” I said, and looked up at the store. It was called 1+1=3. Perfect. I looked at Asher, who was peering in the window. “Do you mind?” I pointed at the store.

He shrugged and shook his head, and we went in. It was filled with all sorts of baby-related things. I wandered around until I found the baby clothes—they were so tiny, like doll clothes.

I couldn’t believe Paige was going to have a baby.

“Is she having a boy or a girl?” Asher said.

“I don’t know. I guess I need to find something that will work for either.”

“Can I ‘elp you?” A saleswoman had come up behind us and had obviously heard us talking. She looked back and forth between me and Asher, a knowing smile on her face. “Is zis your first
bebe
?” And before I could say anything Asher spoke.

“It is,” he said, winding his arm around my waist and patting my stomach, a big grin on his face. “We just found out.”

“I can see zat,” she said, looking absolutely delighted with us. She was perfectly coiffed, every sleek, dark hair in place, her makeup precise, her navy pants suit pristine. “We ‘ave many clothes for you as well,
Madame
.”

Asher was trying not to laugh while I told the lady that we were, in fact, just looking for a baby outfit. She looked a little crestfallen, but then someone else came in the store and she went off to help them as I kept looking at baby clothes, after I socked Asher in the stomach.

And then I saw it: a tiny t-shirt with a little footprint next to a bigger one and the smallest pair of pants I’d ever seen. It was a deep, muted green—my favorite color—and perfect.

“You’re nice,” Asher said as we headed back to our hotel.

“What do you mean?”

He started ticking things off on his fingers. “Going back for the wedding, making the bell, buying the baby something here because you know Paige will love it.” He smiled at me. “You’re
nice
.” And his smile was bittersweet. “I like that.”

By the time we got back to our room that night I was irreversibly miserable.

“Hey,” Asher said, as I slipped into bed beside him. I hadn’t said much since we’d gotten in. Just watched him pack up his stuff and tried not to cry.

I wrapped my arms around him and didn’t bother trying to push away the tears anymore. It wouldn’t have worked anyway. I couldn’t think of a time in my life that I’d ever felt this unhappy. My heart was breaking—I could practically feel it slowly ripping in two as the minutes counted down. My chest hurt, I felt like I couldn’t breathe, and I was dripping all over him.

Great last impression I was leaving. Good going, Skylar.

“Do you wish we hadn’t met?” Asher said quietly, his fingers trailing up my arm.

I shook my head. Of course not. The time I’d spent with him had been the most amazing month of my life. I wouldn’t trade it for anything. And if my throat hadn’t closed I would have said as much, but I could barely swallow, let alone speak.

“Me neither,” he said, and held me tight. “It’s worth it, Skye. Just one moment with you is worth it.”

twenty-six

I
couldn’t sleep. Wrapped up in Asher, my skin melding with his, our hearts beating together, skin touching everywhere, breathing in his every breath. Tears slipped out one by one.

Tomorrow.

I glanced at the clock. Fuck. It was already tomorrow. Today. He was leaving in nine hours. And lying next to him, I couldn’t breathe at the thought of it. I could feel him dreaming and wondered was I in there, in his dreams? I wanted to be. More than anything, I wanted to be a part of his dreams.

How could I spend our last hours together sleeping?

And how could I say goodbye to him in the morning?

But, I told myself, it’s not like I definitely wouldn’t ever see him again. We could meet again. It was possible. Maybe when he got back to the States. Maybe if things didn’t work out with Tamara.

God, I hoped things didn’t work out.

But so much could happen in such a short time. Look at what had happened between us in just a month.

Asher moved, and I turned to lay my head on his chest, wrap myself around him, feel as much of him as I possibly could. He sighed happily in his sleep, a faint smile appearing on his lips, dimples indenting just a bit.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to stop these stupid tears. I’d known this was coming. I’d known it all along. What was wrong with me? I was acting like a stupid kid. I needed to be adult about this. My mother, strangely enough, had been right. It was time I grew up.

I lay there for hours, watching time move forward minute by minute no matter how much I didn’t want it to.

At some point I must have fallen asleep because then it was morning and Asher was calling my name, kissing my bare shoulder and running his hands over my back. I arched into his hands, the sheet slipping down to my waist as I turned to smile sleepily at him. His hands glided around to caress my stomach and brush against my breast, but his smile was sad. He was already dressed, sitting on the edge of the bed.

And then I remembered. I glanced at the clock in a panic.

“We have plenty of time,” he said. He didn’t say
before my train leaves
, but I heard those words, felt them fall around me, plunking down one by one like stones dropping into water.

Already my eyes were stinging again, and I angrily blinked them. I was not going to spend our last moments together crying. I could cry all the way home if I needed to, but I would not do it now. Not with Asher.

My body felt stiff and heavy as I got in the shower, my movements slow. But I forced my way through, getting done as fast as I could. We had so little time left together. I didn’t want to waste it.

I looked at myself in the mirror then, my wet hair leaving dark drips on my light grey t-shirt, dreading saying goodbye but knowing this was it. We were out of time.

He had his bag ready by the time I came out of the bathroom—my stuff was still spread out, my phone on the table next to my pack. I slipped it into my pocket, turned away from my things, and headed for the door.

“You wanna get some breakfast?” he said. I’d barely looked at him since I’d gotten up. I couldn’t and keep my eyes dry or my heart in one ragged piece.

I shook my head. “I don’t think I can eat.”

“Oh,” he said.

“But if you need food…”

And then I looked at him. His eyebrows were drawn up toward the middle of his forehead, but as soon as I met his gaze he smiled softly and shook his head.

God, this hurt.

We took the metro to Gare du Nord in silence. It felt so strange for him to have a backpack while I had nothing.

And that’s how I was feeling. Like I had nothing. Which wasn’t true, of course. And I knew I was going to be fine. But at that moment, it didn’t
feel
like it.