LOVE IS IN THE HEART: Verne Estate Series, Book 4

19. ALISTAIR

As I drive Romy home, the silence in the car prompts me to ask myself a lot of questions. I feel like she’s not totally comfortable, and to be honest, I’m not either.

Normally, I’m a fairly simple person. A woman pleases me, I check that we’re on the same wavelength – namely that she doesn’t expect more from me than I’m ready to give her. Then, if that’s the case, I have a good time with her, and we leave satisfied, sometimes promising to call each other, knowing that we both won’t. Never.

Here I’m faced with a dilemma. I like Romy. I would even say that, physically, I liked her from the moment I laid my eyes on her. And the more I know her, the more I like her. She’s not just pretty, she’s smart, funny, and quick-witted. But here it is: the more I get to know her, the more my feelings are ambivalent. On the one hand, I want her more and more. I have lost count of the multiple X-rated scenarios that I have imagined. On the other hand, I have many reasons to tell myself that it would be a very bad idea to sleep with her. And that’s unprecedented. I’m not saying that I’m normally a jerk, but let’s say that I rarely have a case of conscience like that. If a woman agrees to the terms of our unspoken contract, it’s not up to me to pay the price if she comes to feel remorse later.

But now, I don’t want Romy to feel remorse. And something tells me that will be the case if we take the plunge. Why? Perhaps because between us, there’s already a bond that goes far beyond a simple flirtation. Just now, I opened up to her like never before with a woman, or with anyone at all. Because I keep my hesitations to myself in general. But there’s something about her that pushed me to confide, to tell her what was in my heart – what I think about every morning when I wake up, and every night when I go to bed. I told her about this decision that I'd have to make despite myself, because the more the days passed, the more I had to stop hiding my face.

I think she asks herself a lot of questions about what I expect of her. And me, like an i***t, I did nothing to make things clear. Certainly, because I find it difficult to find myself here. I hate being like this. Usually, everything is much simpler.

I’m aware that our age difference poses a problem for her. If she attaches importance to it, it’s because she needs to project herself. It means she’s looking for a real relationship. Not just a few passionate hugs exchanged behind closed doors with no one to judge us.

I park in front of her house. She lives in a small house on a quiet housing estate outside the centre. The very type of place where one imagines a young couple settling with a baby. Where unfolds the kind of life that I’ll never have, but that she aspires to. And that only reinforces my doubts. Even though I know very well that if something happens between us, it won’t be an ongoing relationship. Who am I to waste her time? What she’s looking for is a husband, children, not a one-night stand.

I turned off the ignition and turned on her. She smiled at me.

“Thanks for the meal,” I said.

At the time of the bill, I had to fight to pay. She didn’t want to hear anything. She insisted she owed me for helping her at the store.

“You’re welcome.”

“I had a great evening.”

“Me too…”

… and I want to extend it as long as possible. Knowing that any second now she’ll be gone upsets me. So when she puts her hand on the door to get out, I do the same. She doesn’t point out to me that she doesn’t need me to walk her home. I followed her on the small path that leads to her door. She pulls out her bunch of keys, it slips out of her hands. I bend down to get it at the same time as her. We almost bump our heads, she laughs. I grab the keychain and when I hand it to her, our hands brush against each other. This simple gesture makes me forget all the good resolutions I made not even a minute ago.

Our eyes meet, I read in hers all the questions she also asks. I know at this moment that I’m not the only one to be torn between desire and reason. I feel that the night which surrounds us exacerbates all the sensations. I feel her breathing a little faster than she should be. Her shining eyes, the warmth she gives off in the cold autumn night. I feel my will wavering, my barriers giving way. I take a step forward, she doesn’t step back. Her mouth opens, my gaze is hypnotised by these two lips just waiting for mine, I’m sure now.

Our faces come closer to each other, she attracts me like a magnet. I forget everything: where we are, who we are, all the reasons why what’s going to happen in the next few seconds is a bad idea.

But you have to believe that Romy doesn’t have the same trouble letting go as me. Because when a metallic noise is heard behind us, she jumps and turns around, leaving me with my hunger.

“Oh! Inky!” she exclaims, advancing towards the lawn.

“Inky?”

“It’s my cat,” she explained. “He must have knocked over the planter again. It’s his way of letting me know that he didn’t like me going without leaving him something to eat.”

As she says those words, I see two eyes glow in the dark. Romy bends down and takes the white furry tomcat in her arms. It’s only when she comes back to me, the beast well wedged in her arms like a newborn, that I become aware of a detail.

“But it is huge!”

“Hey! Don’t insult him!”

“Sorry, but I have rarely seen such a big cat. I doubt he’d starve to death while you were gone. He has reserves.”

The gaze of his mistress is similar to his. Okay, neither of them appreciates my comments about the build of the beefy feline. Romy gently caresses his fur and he starts to purr. Well, now I’m totally jealous of him. And he seems to be taunting me.

You’d like to be in my place, huh, human?

Romy approaches the door, but with the cat in her arms, it’s difficult for her to insert the keys into the lock. I take them from her hands, unlock the door and push it.

“Thanks,” she says as her feline leaps inward from her arms, more gracefully than I’d thought it was capable of. “Do you want to come in?”

Two minutes ago, I wouldn’t have hesitated. But this time, my reason is stronger.

“I’ll go.”

I note with satisfaction the small glimmer of disappointment that crosses her eyes. But I don’t let myself be softened. I placed a kiss on her cheek. One of the advantages of being in France is that this kind of contact is much easier. Then I returned to my car, without giving myself time to change my mind. When I engage the reverse gear, Romy is still on her doorstep, watching me. Even if I remain convinced that I made the right decision, I can’t help but have regrets.