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“More?” I shook my head in disbelief, but followed him back into the hall. “I never can get over this part of your life.”
“Our life, Nadia. Together.”
I lowered my head. My heart was too full by his boundless generosity and kindness. “You don’t always have to go so far and over the top for me, Paul.”
“But I like over the top,” he mused.
“You know what I mean.” I blinked at him. “I love you. I don’t need a fancy house. I just want to be with you.”
He took my hands and pulled me into a passionate kiss. “Baby, you have me.”
We walked up to the top floor, which led to the terrace with comfortable seating and more views of the superb Mediterranean. “It’s beautiful, Paul.”
Yet, I couldn’t help but think of The Hudson. He started there with me, and I was swept away into his magical world of wealth and power that transformed my life. This time felt different. Was this a new step or what he did when he committed? If it is, do commitments last?
“How about a quick stroll through Cours Saleya, the Beating Heart Market?” Paul asked.
“I love the name, but what about the public?”
We walked back downstairs to the living room. “It’s one of the reasons I chose here. No one knows us, and even if they do, they don’t care.” The joy and ease that permeated from him spread to me, and I felt a weight lifted off. We were away from the big cities and our work. There were still staff around, but we were as alone as we’d ever been.“Yes, let’s go.”
We walked out of the house and over to a garage. There was another convertible parked there. “The weather is too nice to have the window up.” He opened my door, and I belted in the seat. Once he was back behind the wheel, we were down the drive.
The sun was lower, and its heat warmed my skin as we moved down the narrow roads toward the central area lined with pastel buildings. Paul parked the car, and we walked towards the square, which was filled with outdoor seating for restaurants. The aromas made my mouth water. “I’m a little hungry.” Paul stopped outside an ice cream cart. And I laughed when he bought me a scoop. “It’ll spoil my dinner,” I teased.
“You’ll find your appetite again.” I held it up, and he bit it playfully, and I laughed, then kissed him. I was surprised the vanilla had cardamom and coconut. “Delicious, Merci.” I praised the seller. The promenade was full of tourists shopping at the hundreds of tented booths lined in front of us. The chatter passing was in a variety of languages. Mostly French. There were many dressed like they walked right off the beach in colorful prints and sandals. The smells of cooked food, fruits, and vegetables assailed my nostrils before we reached their carts. Even fishmongers with fresh fish were out on display. And all of them had buyers with bags and money out to purchase.
“Can we bring some back? Maybe for breakfast?” I hesitated before the cheeses and sausages, but Paul shook his head.
“We will insult chef Helene if we bring food back. She’s prepared a special meal for us.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t want to hurt her,” I said. “I’ll make sure I thank her. Can we bring her a gift?”
He grinned and hugged my waist and kissed my cheek. “You’re so sweet. I can eat you up.”
“You do,” I whispered.
He chuckled, “And not a blush in sight.” He took my hand, and we continued on to the flower market. The smell of gardenias and lilies caught my senses. I stopped before a bouquet and took a deep inhale. “I love fresh flowers.” Paul spoke with the seller and bought one. “A man should never pass flowers without offering them to his lady.”
My chest fluttered as I accepted the beautiful fresh blooms. “Thank you.”
“We’ll pick this up on our way out.” He gave her a tip to store it for him. “Merci,” we both said, and we linked arms.
Eyeing the section of the market ahead, we both could see it was busier. Paul held my waist tight so that we wouldn’t separate as we move through the crowds gathered around craft booths of pottery, paintings, handmade soaps, and tourist trinkets.
I picked up a colorful sketch of boats along the harbor. “What do you think?”
Paul rubbed his jaw. “It’s bright.”
“It’s something we can hang up in the house as a talking piece if someone visits. We can say, ‘Hey, we bought this on our visit.’”
“We can visit a gallery?” he suggested, but he was smiling at the photo and bought it. I kissed his cheek. We moved on to more of the stalls, one with floral-printed fabrics. I hummed as I picked out a few to buy. “This is lovely.”
“Mmm, I’d prefer to hear you sing,” Paul murmured. I kissed his cheek.
He took a step and stopped; his brows knitted.
I puzzled.
