Dear Adam (41 page)

The courier was waiting for her so she
quickly signed for the package. She scanned the front
absentmindedly before snapping into full, heart-stopping
attention.

The package was addressed to her. She ripped
it open at once.

She gasped when she saw what lay inside.

Chapter 21

The limousine bore Eden down Rue de Bercy in
luxurious comfort. Ordinarily, she would have been taking in
everything outside, the twilit Paris streets, the bustling
Parisians, the beautiful buildings. But it was all a surreal blur.
Did she really receive the ticket to Paris only three days ago?

Time had become strange to her, all the hours
running into each other in breathless speed and then slowing down
in excruciating infinity as she rode in the hired car from her
hotel to where Adam was waiting for her. She wanted to jump out and
run, convinced that she could get to him faster on her own feet.
But she didn’t know her destination. After all this, she still
didn’t know exactly where Adam was. Only that when she opens the
door, gets out of the car, and begins the walk to the end of her
long journey, Adam will be there.

Paris was an enchanting dream, but she could
have been anywhere in the world. Walking down the street in
California, in Sicily, in any anonymous, nondescript setting and
she would still feel like this. Her heart ready to beat out of her
chest, not knowing what will happen next but ready to take that
leap into whatever future that had Adam in it.

She resisted it no longer. She would let the
story unfold the way it should. She didn’t question the plane
ticket for a first class seat, didn’t question it when upon
arriving at Charles De Gaulle, she was immediately greeted by a man
bearing a sign with her name. She didn’t question that she was
driven to the George V, a grand hotel of stunning opulence. She
didn’t question that her suite was bigger than her entire house in
California, or that outside her window the Eiffel Tower rose in the
horizon. But she had scanned the lobby made of polished marble,
went to every corner of her elegant suite in anticipation, only to
meet with disappointment, not seeing who she wanted to see.

She had to be patient.

So she had waited, had lain on the enormous
plush bed, more than big enough for two, she was happy to note, and
then a knock on the door. She ran to it and startled the bell hop
outside, who handed her a creamy envelope on a small silver tray.
Inside was a card on which was written that a car would be coming
for her in an hour-and-a-half.

She blinked, she breathed, and she was here,
riding to the unknown.

The car stopped and then the door opened. She
was helped out. The driver tipped the brim of his hat to her then
pointed her to the building in front of them with the clock tower.
Eden started laughing when she realized where she was. Gare de Lyon
train station. He remembered. She knew where to go now.

She walked in and surveyed
from the top of the stairs the crowds of travelers, either arriving
or departing from their trains to Lisbon, Venice, Nice. Adam would
not be among them. She knew where he was waiting for her. She could
see the bright blue sign from where she stood, “Le Train Bleu.” She
crossed the vast space and walked up the steps to the glass doors.
Next to the entrance was a large sign, “
Fermé
.”

Closed. She turned around and looked down on
the people below. Was she supposed to figure out who he was among
them?

She heard the door open behind her. A woman
had stepped out and was beckoning to her. “Madame Espinoza?”

Eden nodded, entranced.

“
This way
please.”

She held the door open and Eden walked
in.

Le Train Bleu was even more beautiful than
she remembered. The painted, Belle Epoque ceilings, the gold-leaf
walls, crystal chandeliers, and the floor covered in red velvet.
Everything was sharper, more vivid than she remembered. And
emptier. There was no one in Le Train Bleu save for her and a row
of wait staff all standing in a line with their smiling faces
turned to her.

A short, plump man in a black suit and bow
tie approached her. He bowed then turned on his heel.

“
If madame will follow me,
please.”

They made their way past a tower made out of
champagne bottles, down the aisle, passing empty tables with
immaculate white tablecloths and red leather chairs. The sconces
and chandeliers sparkled with light, casting a magical golden glow
throughout the restaurant.

He stopped, then stepped aside. She followed
the direction of his outstretched arm, palm pointed to a single
table set apart from all the others. Beside it stood a man,
waiting.

Eden drew in her breath. She won’t blink, she
won’t move – he’ll vanish if she did.

It came down to this moment, all the words
they had ever written or said, soaring like music all around them,
and then silenced once she took the first step, then the next, and
the next until she was just a few feet from him.

She had never seen this man before, but she
would know him anywhere.

“
Adam.”

“
Eden.”

He let her look, drink in the whole of
him.

He was tall, with square shoulders. Even in
the grand space of the restaurant, which would have dwarfed other
men, he looked imposing. Hands crossed in front of him, feet apart,
as though he were stoically awaiting her judgment. He was dressed
in a black suit, cut to fit his body perfectly. The tip of a white
handkerchief peeked out of his jacket pocket. The subtle scent of
Armani Code. His head was shaved close. His hooded eyes were a
light blue. A square jaw. On one side of his deeply tanned face ran
an ugly, jagged scar. He looked like the perfect villain of a dark
fairy tale.

If she didn’t know him, she would have
shuddered had they passed each other in a crowded room. She would
have run the other way if she saw him in a dark alley, would have
taken him for a dim thug had he asked her out and she would have
pretended to be taken already. She wouldn’t have seen the
vulnerability in his eyes, the sensitivity in his hulking frame.
But she did know him, and he was the most beautiful man she had
ever seen.

There were many things to be said, but she
had to say it first.

“
I’m sorry, Adam. I’m sorry
I did this to us. I’m sorry for every second we’ve been apart. I’m
sorry that I destroyed something so beautiful. But I’ve put down my
sword. I’ve smashed down the walls myself.”

She struggled not to cry as she got down on
one knee. She needed to be coherent. She looked up at him.

“
You’ve seen my true face
now. All my flaws, all the ugliness. All my scars. Do you still
want the woman in front of you?”

Adam reached down and in one swift motion
picked her up off the ground so that she was squarely in his arms.
He was so solid and so close, she could barely breathe with
wonder.

“
Eden, I have just come
through the worst storm I have ever been in. I thought for sure it
would be the end. Yet somehow I survived and my boat reached port.
How could I let you walk away from me now? But what happened in
Sicily,” his voice broke and there were tears in his eyes. “Can you
ever forgive me? Had I known that one of Marco’s old enemies was
looking for me, I never would have reached out to you. I would
never knowingly put you or Dante in danger like that. But he will
never hurt you again, Eden. This, I promise. I want to spend the
rest of my life keeping you safe.”

“
I didn’t understand,” Eden
said as she gazed up at him. “And I still have so many questions.
But I want us to start over if it's possible. Do it properly, with
no secrets, no walls between us.”

Eden tilted her face up so that there was
only a wisp of air between their parted lips. She hadn’t expected
that her body would instantaneously react like this to his.
Opening, softening, getting warmer and warmer until she would have
to shed some clothes soon.

He paused as he gazed at her, struck by
something.

“
Jack was rather amazed
with you, you know. Had some silly things to say about the
expression on your face whenever you talked about me.

“
Oh? Can you picture what
he was talking about now?”

“
Yes,” his deep murmur
making her tremble with anticipation, “I think I see what he
meant,” then leaned down and finally kissed her.

He tasted just as he sounded. Sinfully
delicious.

She wrapped her arms around him and wouldn’t
let go, not even when he pulled away for a second to say, “Shall we
sit and let these good people do their job?” He nodded to the wait
staff standing at a respectable distance. They were too far away
for her to see their faces, which was a relief. She couldn't hide
any of her emotions even if she wanted to.

“
Only if I get to sit with
you,” she said.

So he sat down while still bearing her in his
arms. She leaned against his chest, unable to stop herself from
touching him.

A waiter came bearing flutes of a bubbly,
raspberry-colored liquid.

“
Kir royales!” she
exclaimed. “You remembered!”

She brought down her arms from around his
neck to open her purse and take out some things she brought from
California.

“
Mountain Dew and Oreos!
You remembered!”

He kissed her once more, so deeply that she
felt drunk although she hadn’t had a drop to drink yet.

It was all so new, the heft of him, the
solidity. The touch of his lips, his arms encircling her, his eyes
holding hers.

“
You are a vision.” He drew
in his breath as he saw what she was wearing. “Are these the boots
from the picture?” he said as he ran his hand up and down the black
leather, the sharp high heels, the laces that went all the way up
her legs. She drew the hem of her skirt just a fraction so he could
see the sheer black stockings beneath.

“
Yes,” she said. She
reached into her purse once more and withdrew a black box. “I
thought they went well with these.”

She felt his pulse quicken. He opened the box
with one hand, raised an eyebrow at what lay inside, then snapped
it shut.

“
You
remembered.”

“
Did you purposely pick out
a room with bedposts?” She slowly circled one of his wrists with
her hand.

His eyes widened.

“
Would you mind if we took
away our dinner, darling?”

She waved at the empty restaurant, the wait
staff on attention. “You went through all this trouble.”

“
It will still be here
tomorrow. But my hunger – that can’t wait any longer. Shall
we?”

“
Are you sure you’re ready
for me, Adam?”

“
Ready and willing. I’m
your slave, Eden.”

“
Then let’s go
home.”

“
My dear, where are you
taking me?” Eden led Adam by the hand down busy Market Street. It
was a sunny, late July afternoon in San Francisco, with no fog in
sight. The air was warm and the city streets were full of jostling
crowds. “The bookshop’s that way. And we’re stopping by Dante's new
apartment, remember?”

Eden tried not to let a smile give anything
away. It was so hard to surprise Adam but this was too
irresistible. He had no idea. “Hang onto your knickers. I want to
drop by this place first.”

“
Uggh, that horrid word.
Grates on my ears it does.”

The stopped in front of an elegant art deco
building, 1355 Market Street. She opened the doors and led Adam
inside the lobby.

“
You and your ideas,” Adam
shook his head. He sighed the exaggerated sigh of a long-suffering
martyr, but Eden could see the playfulness in his eyes. He was
amused.

She was learning to read him and all the
myriad, ever-so-subtle changes of expression. His eyes, his face
were as mesmerizing as his voice. Often, she would be busy doing
something at home and stop, suddenly seized with the need to see
him. She would drop whatever she was doing and come to where he
was, reading a book, writing, or working in his study and gaze at
him quietly from the doorway.

Sensing her, he would turn and say, “My dear,
you’re staring.”

And she would say, unashamed, unable to hold
back, “I can’t help it. I still can’t believe you’re here. I’m
afraid I’ll wake up and I’ll find it was all a beautiful, wicked
dream.” And she’d cling to him tightly, as if to prove to herself
his reality.