“It’s a romantic notion.”
“She was always one of my heroes, Joan of Arc,” Natalie continued. “She was brave and strong, and she was so very young. She was only nineteen when she died, but she still managed to live a whole life before she was burned at the stake.”
I smiled. “There?
??s still time for you to start a few revolutions,” I teased.
Natalie laughed. “As much as I loved and admired Joan, I wouldn’t want her kind of life. I don’t need to be a hero. I’d settle for being happy, really.”
“And, are you?” I asked. “Are you happy?”
“I thought I was.” She nodded thoughtfully. “And then I met you, and suddenly I realized I’d been using the word happiness in all the wrong places. You introduced me to what real, true happiness looks like.”
It was amazing how simple and straightforward she put it. She didn’t mince her words or hide behind her feelings. She offered the truth to me as though speaking truths was the easiest thing in the world. That alone was brave. She wasn’t trying to manipulate my feelings or get me to make a commitment. She was telling me how she felt because she wasn’t the type of woman to play games. It was refreshing, but it was also terrifying.
I recalled the morning after we had landed in Paris. She had told me she loved me twice, and I had been unable to reply. Another woman might have acted differently. Another woman might have turned her face from me and moped around for the remainder of the trip, thus forcing me into saying the words whether or not I felt them.
But Natalie was different. She didn’t push for an answer, nor did she act upset or hurt that I hadn’t replied to her sentiment. She had got on with our trip as though she hadn’t just put her heart on the line for me.
We’d had breakfast in bed that morning, I had taken her in the shower twice, and then we had started our exploration of Paris. She hadn’t told me she loved me again after that morning; I didn’t know how to feel about that. A part of me wanted her to tell me she loved me again, and another part of me wanted to continue on as though no declaration had been made. Several times, I felt the need to address the unspoken moment, but I chickened out at the last minute.
“Chance?” Natalie’s voice was soft.
“Yes.”
“Am I making you uncomfortable?” she asked. “Because I don’t mean to be. I just… I suppose when I feel strongly about certain things, I tend to just speak my mind or my heart. I don’t expect you to return the sentiment. I’m just telling you where I stand.”
I looked at her for a moment, realizing how lucky I was to find a woman like Natalie. I rose from my seat and offered a hand to her. “Dance with me,” I said.
“Dance with you?”
“Yes.”
“There’s no room,” Natalie pointed out.
“We need enough room to hold each other and sway,” I told her. “We have enough room for that.”
Natalie smiled and took my hand. I pulled her close to me, and we started to sway in time to the music. We moved like that for a long time. I leaned in and kissed her long and slow and passionately. When we pulled apart, her lips were raw from the kiss.
“We keep talking about all your firsts in this relationship,” I said. “I was the first man you kissed and the first man you slept with.”
“You were,” Natalie nodded; uncertain of where I was going.
“We never really spoke about my firsts.”
“I wasn’t aware you had very many firsts left,” she said.
“Neither was I,” I nodded. “Until I realized you’re the only woman I’ve actually wanted to have a relationship with. Until I realized that you are the only woman that I’ve ever truly…loved.”
Natalie stared at me for a moment, as though she wasn’t quite sure she had heard right. I could see the burning hope in her eyes, and it made my heart break for a moment. “You love me?”
“I love you.” I nodded. “I’m sorry it took me so long to say that to you. It was just that—”
“You were scared,” she replied for me. “It’s okay… I know.”
“Will you forgive me?”
“Maybe,” she said, with a small smile. “If you keep reminding me.”