Been In Love Before: A Novel (22 page)

Chapter Fifty-Two

The day after the wedding, it was late and they were both quiet on the ride to the airport. Ryan managed a weak smile as they pulled into the parking garage. He looked at the sky above; the darkened skies looked threatening, black-and-gray clouds fighting one another, swirling high above them.

Alexi had not known him for long, but she knew him well. “What’s wrong?” she asked, already knowing the answer.

“I can’t go to Paris,” Ryan stated bluntly as they walked inside the terminal.

“What?”

“I just can’t, Alexi. As much as I would like to say yes and run off with you to Europe . . . I just can’t. I have my life here, responsibilities. My practice. My family. My brothers. And I have so many memories of . . .”

She let out a painful sigh while still holding his hand. “Ryan, sweetheart, one day you will run out of excuses for why you’re not happy. I guess it’s just not today. Let me know when that day arrives, my sweet. I can’t compete with memories.”

“But, Alexi, you don’t understand . . .”

She placed a fingertip to his lips and leaned in close to whisper, “Be still, my heart.” She kissed him and turned to walk away; she paused to wave good-bye, and then she was gone. Gone from his sight and gone from his life. He missed her already. He ached for her, and for the second time in his life, he had lost someone he truly loved.

He ran up the stairs, up one level to the darkened observation room high above the airport. The lights on the runways and the control tower were an array of different colors, like a kaleidoscope. A soft rain pelted the glass windows. He could see her plane below pull away from the terminal and slowly taxi toward the runway. It was dark as he saw his reflection in the glass looking out over the bustling activity before him and saw the heavens clearing, showing the stars in the sky. Then he thought of his Gracie. He remembered how they would sit on the porch and watch the stars come out at night. He was torn.

She came from the shadows and eased beside him, dressed in her white jeans, pink T-shirt, and sandals. He always loved her in that outfit, so sexy. It was his Gracie.

“Hiya, Mac,” she said, kissing him on the cheek while her hand rested gently on his shoulder.

“Hey, baby,” he said softly without taking his eyes off the plane. “I’ve missed you.”

“I know. Me too. I will always miss you and love you, but . . . it’s time for you to get on with living.” They watched together as the plane lifted smoothly into the South Florida sky. “I’ve come to say good-bye. Get on with your life, Mac. Go find her and hold on to her as tight as you can. Go get her.” She kissed him tenderly on his cheek and walked away. Gone. From the darkness he heard her whisper, “And, hey, take your brothers with you.”

Chapter Fifty-Three

The sun shone bright and warm as the midmorning traffic roared to life on the springtime streets of Paris.

He first saw her strolling down the avenue toward him as he glanced over the top of his newspaper. She was beautiful. He closed the paper, folded it in half, and set it on the table next to his coffee cup, all the while admiring her. She was walking with purpose toward him as if in slow motion, her beret cocked to one side, her high heels accentuating her strong, athletic legs, a feast for his eyes. She was dressed as fashionably as any of the other Parisians on the street that day, in her sculpted French skirt and patterned silk blouse. He loved the way her skirt clung to her curves, gently swaying with her every movement as she walked.

When their eyes met, Alexi smiled that coy smile of hers, and her hand whispered a gentle wave to him that only he saw.

“Good morning, my sweet,” she said as she slowly kissed him on both cheeks, French-style, with her lips lingering longer than for a mere tender hello.

“Morning,” he responded as he caught a faint hint of her new French perfume. He noticed the top button on her blouse straining, nearly undone, as she leaned forward to kiss him.

She sat down next to him, smiled, and placed her hand gently on his leg.

He saw a flash of her thigh as she slowly crossed her legs, and he heard the unmistakable sound of her sheer stockings rubbing against each other. He thought of her, all of her.
So tempting.

Their regular waiter, jovial François, as they called him, dressed in his usual black-and-white uniform and carrying a white towel draped over his arm, approached her as soon as she was seated.

“Bonjour, madame,”
he said, smiling broadly, eyeing her.

“
Bonjour
, François.”

“Coffee,
madame
?”

“Oui. Café au lait, s’il vous plaît.”
She looked at Ryan’s nearly empty cup and held up two fingers.
“Deux, s’il vous plaît.”

“Oui, madame.”

They sat outside at their favorite corner table on Rue d’Orléans just off Avenue Charles de Gaulle on the Left Bank, sipping their coffee and watching the daily life of Paris slowly meander by.

She had finished her classes early, and now she had him all to herself. She leaned close and kissed his neck.

He felt her pressing against his arm as she leaned over to kiss him. He placed his hand on her leg and was amazed at the warmth of her body; he shivered, hoping she would not notice.

“What time is our lunch today?” he asked in a nonchalant manner.

Everyone was to meet for lunch; they would have a wine-and-cheese picnic along the banks of the Seine. Robert and Coleen would be there after their tour of the Louvre. Eian and Rose would arrive early, as usual, to secure their wonderful picnic spot under the graceful weeping willow, after visiting Notre-Dame Cathedral.

“Not until one o’clock,” she said calmly. Then she turned to him, smiled, and whispered with a gentle kiss while squeezing his leg, “We have time, plenty of time . . . my love. Let’s go. I wasn’t that hungry anyway,” she said as he reached for her hand.

He laid some coins on the table and waved good-bye to François, who returned the gesture with a knowing smile. “
Au revoir
, François.”

He looked at her and said, “Time to go.”

Robert and Coleen walked up the steps to enter the museum on that warm and sunny day in Paris.

“I have been waiting my whole life to come here,” Coleen whispered in anticipation as they walked down the quiet, wide hallways of the famed Louvre. “And now I’m here, with you. Robert, I’m so excited. I can hardly wait.” They walked around the magnificent museum, and then they saw her, under a soft light, highlighting her ever-present smile. The
Mona Lisa
.

“She’s beautiful,” he said as they stood there looking at her, frozen in time and space.

Coleen hugged his arm, bringing him closer. “Can you believe she is over five hundred years old?”

Bob leaned in closer, tilting his head as he studied the famed portrait. “You know, she doesn’t look a day over four hundred.”

They both laughed and soon reluctantly walked away to explore the rest of the museum.

“I’m so glad we came,” Coleen said. “I’ve always wanted to come to Paris.”

“And now you’re here. Don’t I always give you what you want?”

“Yes, you do,” she said with a twinkle in her eye. She turned and reached into her purse, pulled out an envelope. She handed it to him. “I have something. This is for you. For us.”

“What is it?”

“Open it and see.”

They stopped and sat down on a bench in front of a serene, soft blue-and-gold Monet countryside painting. He opened the envelope and began to read the contents. His eyes grew wide, his mouth opened. “What? What . . . is this?” he stammered.

“When we leave here for the States on Monday, we’re taking a slight detour before we go home—I bought us a five-day side trip to Scotland. We fly into Edinburgh and then tour about the countryside, and you will finally get to see the places you’ve only read about. We can visit the bonny, bonny banks of Loch Lomond, walk along the pathways followed by Rob Roy MacGregor, pay homage at the William Wallace Monument, see Hadrian’s Wall, and visit many other places. Is that good?”

For once he was at a loss for words until he finally said, “Very good. Very good, indeed.”

“I love you, Robert Macgregor. And I love saying it.”

“I love you too, Coleen . . . Coleen Macgregor?”

She smiled with that twinkle in her eye. “We’ll see.”

He pulled her close and kissed her, and then kissed her again as unflappable romantic Parisians strolled by, paying no attention. Everyone was lost in their own world.

Life was good. Life was very good, again.

Acknowledgments

I want to thank all of my readers and reviewers, who have provided me with not only their support but also encouragement in my writing. Thank you! I also want to thank Judy Hanses for all her help, Dr. Robert Johnston (Doctor Bob), and Doris and the late Irwin “Sonny” Block, and a special thanks for the inspiration of Bob and Cheryl. Thank you one and all.

—B

About the Author

Bryan Mooney is the author of
Christmas in Vermont
,
Once We Were Friends
,
Love Letters
,
A Second Chance
, and other romance novels, as well as the Nick Ryan thriller series. He spent years traveling the globe for both business and pleasure, and he draws upon those experiences in his writing. Originally from the Midwest, Bryan now lives in sunny South Florida with his longtime wife and childhood sweetheart, Bonnie. When he is not penning romance novels and thrillers on the beach, he and his wife love to travel. Connect with Bryan at
www.bryanmooneyauthor.com
.