“And how do I leave you?” she pleads, sounding confused and desperate.
Stepping back into the shadows, he gives her a moment to say her good-byes. After all, he knows how hard it is to let go of her.
As I stand there, brushing my fingers over her flawless figure, I close my eyes, remembering her words to him. Don’t let them make a villain out of you. Don’t let them break you. It shocks me to my core to know that I am now the them in the equation.
Letting my fingers come to a stop against the curvature of her hip, I make a vow to her. “I will not villainize him. I’ll make sure the whole world knows what happened that night. They will all know that he didn’t leave for help because there was no time to go.” Stepping back from her, I reach out and stroke my fingers down the silent violin that stands stark and strong against her. “That I promise you.”
I turn to look at the door, expecting Phillipe to come through at any moment, but as I stand and wait, he doesn’t appear. So, I turn back and take solace in the knowledge that I am not alone.
As I stand here in a room that once frightened and confused me, I feel calm and comforted. Finally, I understand his need to have her here. She is his peace. She is his sanity. As I gaze upon the six images that torture and sadden the rest of the world, I feel an overwhelming sense of love and acceptance from both the man who painted the images and the woman who posed for them.
Finally, I feel more complete than I ever have before.
Phillipe doesn’t know why he chose to put this particular piece on. As soon as he hits play on the system, the sounds filter through to the room Gemma is standing in. He feels his heart tighten and then release, like he is giving himself permission to continue.
Setting it to play repeatedly, he makes his way into the room to face Gemma who is now turned and looking right at him.
Without a word, he crosses the wide space to stand before her. Finally, he allows his eyes to really take in the woman before him, without comparing her to the woman who hangs in silent repose on the walls beyond them. Tracing his eyes over her, he marvels at the creamy texture of skin that is displayed so magnificently by the deep V-cut of the bodice. It is edged in a dusky rose that reminds him of her sensitive nipples after he’s sucked them to a full, pouty point.
Caressing her shoulders are thin straps of satin holding the dress in place. Molding down her sides to tuck in at an extraordinarily narrow waist, the dress bunches on her lower back and falls out into a long flowing train that brushes the ground with each step she takes. His eyes gaze over to the sensuous slit in the gown that runs up the left side of her leg, ending high on her smooth thigh in a peek-a-boo ruffle. It makes him want to reach out and touch her.
In the heels he has given her, she is now almost eye to eye with him, and as she stares wordlessly, he allows himself to care.
Reaching forward, he touches her high cheekbone and closes his eyes. When he opens them, he isn’t sure what he expects to see, but he’s surprised enough to confess that his vision has finally cleared, allowing him to see her.
“Gemma,” he whispers, almost affectionately.
Standing before him, I’m dressed in the clothes he laid out for me. I feel an overwhelming need for him to see me. As soon as my name leaves his sensual lips, I take a step closer to him, raising my hand to where his is touching my face.
“Phillipe.” I breathe softly, my heart fluttering inside my chest.
He flattens his large palm against my cheek as his eyes run over me as though he is seeing me for the first time. I can hear music floating around us. It’s a tune that I haven’t heard before, and I want to know what is playing, so I can find it later when I mourn the loss of him. I know that is what he is doing. He is telling me good-bye.
When he appeared in the door, I felt my breath catch in the back of my throat at the sight of him. After the intense and emotional morning we both shared, I didn’t know what to expect tonight.
Now, as the beautiful melody begins to fill the air while his eyes move over me, I know he has come here to let me go.
He is no less beautiful today than he was the first time I saw him. In fact, he is almost more so because now I can see and understand the pain that is etched into every line and crease on his face. His stunning green eyes framed by those long brown lashes hold mine as he moves closer. All I can see is the way they looked at me this morning. He was filled with so much pain and sorrow that I wanted to reach out to soothe him, to calm him, and to love him.
“You’re devastating,” he confesses.
Searching his face, I finally let my eyes connect with his, and I can see the longing there, revealing the emotion he wants to give to me, but I can also see that it is forever trapped behind those haunted eyes.
“Thank you. The dress is beautiful.”
I take a swift breath in and hold it as he reaches out to place his free hand on my chest over my heart.
“It’s not the dress, Gemma.” He tilts his head once again, letting his eyes trace down my body.
I can feel my nipples tightening in response to his silent, hungry perusal. As his eyes make their way back up my figure, they finally stop, focusing where his hand is resting against my chest. I place my palm over his fingers where his touch weighs heavy against my beating heart.
“The story is over,” he mutters, focused on our joined hands.
He lowers his fingers from my cheek. Gripping his wrist, I pull his hand from my heart and bring it to my lips. His eyes now move to mine, and as I kiss his knuckles, I don’t waver. I let every emotion I am feeling surface until he can see just how much I love him. I can feel the tears gathering in my eyes as he pulls his hand away from me.
His voice, soft and firm, he commands, “Turn around, Gemma.”
Licking my lips, I wonder about what he’s going to do. Undress me? Take me on the floor in this very room, like he did that day weeks ago? I can feel the heat from his body as he steps up close behind me. He wraps a large arm around my waist, smoothing his warm palm against my abdomen in a slow stroke.
Pulling me back against him until my shoulders connect with his chest, I sigh as his mouth moves to my ear.
In that deep smooth voice of his, he explains, “Méditation from Thaïs.”
I try to decipher what he’s saying as his warmth radiates through me. I lean my head back, now resting on his shoulder, as I turn to see him looking at me intently.
“This song use to haunt me every time I heard it. It reminded me of her.”
His eyes move to the paintings in front of us, and I follow his gaze to the images on display.
“The song seems very sad,” I acknowledge softly.
“It used to be…” He confirms and pauses. “Until you. Everything is changing, yet it’s still the same…because of you.”
His arm loosens from around my waist, and his warmth leaves me. I look over my shoulder to see him standing a step away from me. Turning, I move to him, but he takes another step back.
Stopping, I tilt my head. “Phillipe?”
His jaw clenches as his eyes glance behind me to the wall. He is staring at her. This time, I’m not upset by it. This time, I know what he’s doing. He’s seeking permission. He’s trying to decide if being with me will somehow betray her, and he’s doing that because he cares. My heart swells right along with the melody as I reach out. This time, he takes my hand in his.
“Phillipe?” I plead, trying to get through to him. I try to make him understand.