Take Me Away Page 2

  This time I frowned as I looked between them. “What do you mean, she doesn’t know who he is?”

  “She tell my mother she feels like her heart is missing someone. She has a great love but cannot remember him.”

  It felt like every emotion rolled through me. Longing, sadness, excitement. Hope. Christ, it was all there in one ball.

  “Elle rêve de lui,” he said with a smile.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t know what that means.”

  “She dreams of him, this man she is missing.”

  I swallowed hard and took a few steps back as he pointed at me and said, “You are him, no?”

  With a nod of my head, I moved my focus back down the street where Linnzi had gone. “God, I hope so.”

  He frowned.

  I tried with all my might to pull up the little bit of French I knew. “Je l`espère. I hope so.”

  He smiled then patted me on my arm. “Good luck, my friend.”

  “Merci,” I said as I set off after Linnzi. I knew she was heading to work at the museum, so it wouldn’t be hard to catch up with her. I also knew I would plant my ass at a table outside the coffee shop across the street and wait for her. I always went to the same café during each visit, and every time the owner would smile and wave at me. This time was no different. I had already told her a shortened version of the story, and she found it terribly romantic. Her words not mine.

  “Ah, Nolan! Comment avez-vous été?”

  I kissed her once on each cheek. “I’ve been good. You?”

  She waved her hand in the air. “Living.”

  I laughed.

  “Go. Go, I bring you café.”

  “Thank you, Amélie.”

  As I settled in and drank my coffee, I took in the people walking by. I loved Paris. I hated the reason I kept coming, but that didn’t deter my love for the city. My phone buzzed on the table, and I looked down to see Linnzi’s mother’s name.

  I slid my finger over my phone to answer. “Hey, Amy.”

  “Nolan, how are you?”

  “Fine.”

  “Liar,” she said with a weak laugh. “How does she look?”

  “Good. She looks good. When are y’all planning on coming to visit her?”

  She sighed. “Next month. When I talk to her on the phone, it breaks my heart. There are so many times I want to tell her, Nolan. I think it makes it harder that she doesn’t ask questions. Nothing. Never.”

  I closed my eyes and remained silent. Not even breathing.

  “Steve seems to know when I’m at my breaking point; he takes the phone away or turns the computer and starts talking to her.”

  It was a few more seconds before I opened my eyes and released a breath. It was almost as if I felt her in that moment. I searched the windows of the museum, even though I couldn’t see anyone standing in them.

  “I almost ran to her today, Amy. I came so close to calling out her name, but I can’t. I can’t make myself do that to her.”

  “When? When is enough time, Nolan? It’s been five years and she hasn’t dated a single person.”

  “There is a reason she’s blocking me from her memory still. She’s not ready to remember.”

  Amy cursed. “Sometimes I wish I had never agreed to go along with this. I know it’s for the best, and I know it was the right thing, but at some point, Nolan, you’re going to have to give her the chance to remember. And the only way she’s going to do that is if you let her see you again.”

  I reached up and scrubbed my hand down my face. “I know, Amy. I’m just so…”

  “Scared.”

  “Yes. What if she remembers and then hates me?”

  “Oh, Nolan. Are you still blaming yourself for the accident?”

  A gut-wrenching feeling hit me hard. “Yes! It was my fault.”

  “It wasn’t!” Amy practically shouted. “It was an accident. Nolan, it was investigated, you were cleared. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  My breaths started to come faster and shorter. I couldn’t breathe. Fuck, I couldn’t breathe.

  Amy’s voice was calm over the phone as she whispered my name. “Nolan, I want you to take in a deep breath.”

  The air…it wasn’t coming. “Can’t. Breathe.”

  “Listen to me, a deep breath in, and then out. Focus, Nolan.” Her voice was soft and steady. “In. Out.”

  I closed my eyes and did as she said until the pressure on my chest eased and I could breathe freely once again.

  Amélie ran out, and I held up my hand. “I’m okay, I’m okay.”

  She gave me a weak smile and then turned and went back into the coffee shop. I hadn’t had an episode like this since that day in the hospital.

  “I’m sorry,” Amy whispered. “Does it happen often?”

  “No,” I managed to get out. “It hasn’t happened since that day.”

  “Nolan, will you please think of coming for Christmas? Please.”

  Knowing damn well I had no intention of going back to Boerne for Christmas, I lied. “Yes, I’ll think about it.”

  “Good,” she said, a hopeful sound to her voice. “And Nolan?”

  “Yes?”

  “Think about what I said, okay?”

  I inhaled a deep breath through my nose. “I will.”

  We ended the call after our goodbyes, and I once again looked up at the windows before I stood and walked back to the flat I had rented. Suddenly, I was so damn tired.

  Linnzi

  Paris, France — Five minutes earlier

  I STARED DOWN at the man sitting outside the coffee shop. He looked agitated, and at one point, I swore he was having an anxiety attack. For some reason I had been drawn to the windows by the same kind of pull I had felt earlier when I first stepped out of my flat to leave for work. It was a similar feeling that happened every few months or so, like I was being watched. A strange tingle that went up and down my spine. It felt like someone was close by. Someone…important. It was the oddest damn thing.

  “He is rather cute.”

  I smiled at the voice that came from my right side. Penny Worthy was one of the women I had become fast friends with when I moved to Paris a few years back. She had moved to Paris after she graduated from Oxford. At the time, I had been involved in an accident that had left me with amnesia. Only a small part of my memory was gone. Simply gone. I remembered bits and pieces of high school, some college, but not much. Of course my love of art was still there. I had withdrawn from most of my friends whom I still had a memory of, why I wasn’t entirely sure. I knew my parents were keeping something from me regarding my lost memory, but for some reason, they didn’t feel the need to fully fill me in on what exactly I had been doing those lost few years that were missing. And I hadn’t shown an ounce of interest in learning what happened. A part of me knew it was something bad. People in Boerne looked at me strangely, and I couldn’t ignore the whispers. I knew I had to make a change—a big change—because it was all just too much for me.

  It didn’t take me long to accept a position with the museum in Paris. I was more than ready to leave my hometown and all the lost memories behind. The sense that something was missing was so strong when I was back home. I could still remember how sad I felt sitting on my folks’ front porch, staring out at the rolling hills of the Texas Hill Country. The overwhelming need to cry or call out for someone was so present. I knew it was part of the reason I had never asked questions regarding the accident, and had even told the few friends I had left I didn’t want to talk about it. If I did, I knew I would find out why I felt so … empty. That scared the hell out of me. The sense of a profound loss was deep within my soul, and I tried with all my might to ignore it. When it got to the point where I could no longer dismiss it, I had to escape to anywhere, and Paris called to me.

  According to my parents, I had always enjoyed working for my mother’s art studio in Boerne, and wasn’t quite ready to leave home during those missing years. There was more to the story—that much was obvious�
�but honestly, I didn’t want to know it. Something tragic had happened, I could see it in my parents’ eyes, and I felt it in the depths of my soul. I couldn’t get out of Texas fast enough. Call me a coward, but I wasn’t ready to face whatever tragedy had robbed me of that portion of my life.

  My eyes drifted down to the man again. He looked so familiar, but I couldn’t get a good look at him. And every time I saw him glance up to the museum windows, I felt my breath catch in my throat.

  “Are you still having naughty dreams about your mystery man?”

  I nodded. I had been having dreams for the last few years, really erotic dreams. But I could never see his face, this mystery man of mine.

  “Darling, insert that man right there into your dreams, and I bet they get a whole lot more interesting.”

  I couldn’t help but giggle. He was handsome. Goodness was he handsome. He had broad shoulders, and from what I could see, a body that said he was in better-than-average physical shape. He wore a baseball cap, so I couldn’t tell the color of his hair.

  “Is he wearing cowboy boots?” Penny asked in a dreamy voice.

  “He is,” I said with a bit of wickedness.

  He had since hung up the phone and seemed to have calmed down a bit. He stood and started to walk off.

  “Merde! Non! He’s leaving!” Penny whined in half French, half English.

  I had a sudden urge to go after him. Turning, I quickly grabbed my purse and headed out of my office.

  “Where are you going?” Penny asked, hot on my trail.

  “Le suivre.”

  “You are going to him?” she nearly shouted as everyone in the office area of the museum glared at us.

  I shot her a warning look over my shoulder. “Yes. To follow him. Ever since I stepped out of my house, I’ve had a strange feeling. And the moment I looked down and saw that man, the feeling has grown exponentially. I need to see if I can find out who he is.”

  Penny pulled on my arm, trying to slow me down, as I pushed the doors of the museum open and stepped outside. The café was directly across the street, and the morning rush of people had slowed so I was able to still see him. He smiled at the owner of the café and started to walk away.

  “Arrêtez. Linnzi, this is crazy. He’s not the man from your dreams.”

  Turning back to her, I laughed. “I know that.”

  She arched a brow. “Really? Because you’re racing after him like your life depends on it.”

  My teeth dug into my lip as I looked at the stranger, then back to Penny. There was no way I could describe to her the feeling I had in my bones. I needed to find out who this man was.

  “I know what I’m doing. Tell Phil I had to run an errand! I’ll be back in an hour!”

  Penny groaned, then called out, “Don’t go to a hotel with him!”

  I made a mad rush down the street, my mystery man still in view. My heart pounded in my chest and I made a mental note to start running again. Although, I had a feeling my fast walking was not the cause of my rapid heartbeat. He was walking back toward where my flat was located. That was strange. I wonder how many times we had crossed paths before.

  Finally, I had caught up enough to where I was only two or three people behind him. It wasn’t hard to notice all the stares and flirty smiles from the women he passed. A sudden pang of jealousy raced through me, and I had to laugh it away.

  “Goodness, I’m jealous of what?” I asked myself as I made sure to stay back far enough that he wouldn’t see me, but close enough to keep up with him.

  He turned the corner, and I felt my pulse race even more. He was turning down the same street I lived on. We walked past my flat, and I quickly looked around before focusing back on the mystery man. He stopped at a flower cart and started chatting with the young girl. Her face lit up, and I honestly couldn’t blame her. If this man smiled at me the way he had, I’d be blushing as well. I caught a glimpse of brown hair peeking out from under his baseball cap and found myself smiling for some unknown reason. He handed her money then wrote something down on a piece of paper and handed it to her. He pointed to a bouquet of flowers. I let my eyes fully take him in. Lord, the man was not only more handsome up close, but he had an amazing body. His large leg muscles filled out the jeans he was wearing nicely. My eyes drifted up to his broad upper body. A thin waistline led to wide shoulders and muscular arms. Not bulky muscles by any means, but he certainly was the type of man who visited the gym often. My mind drifted to what he would look like naked, and I quickly shook my head to rid me of my wayward thoughts. And, he spoke in English. I couldn’t make out everything he was saying, but I could hear that he was speaking English.

  Once again, I found myself looking up and down his body. A warm, tingling sensation hit me in the pit of my stomach and I nearly gasped. I hadn’t felt that in a very long time. Truth be told, I didn’t remember when I had felt it last. I knew I had been involved with someone in the past. There was no way I had the dreams I had and felt the longing I did if there hadn’t been someone in my life. I had asked my mother once about my previous relationships, and I saw the pain in her eyes. She told me there had been someone, but that things hadn’t worked out. Her answer felt like a stretch from the truth, yet at the same time, something deep inside me warned not to ask anything else. So, I hadn’t. They either didn’t like the guy I dated before my accident, or he had left me utterly brokenhearted. Or, maybe he was the reason for my memory loss. But that was caused from the accident, so that didn’t make sense.

  A movement out of the corner of my eye brought me back to my present situation as the mystery man started to walk once more. He stopped and slowly started to turn around. I quickly dashed behind one of the carts that sold fresh vegetables. The owner of the cart shot me a look, and I simply smiled and said, “Cache.” Lucky for me, he didn’t ask who I was hiding from.

  When I peeked through a small slat in the cart, I saw the man still looking. When I got a clear and up-close view of his face, I gasped and jumped back, landing on my ass.

  No one bothered to help. After nearly five years of living on this street, most people knew me as the spinster American who had turned down every young gentleman’s invitation to go out because I had given my heart to someone else—someone whom I knew nothing about. They hadn’t known at first that I was fluent in French, so I was privy to all their ponderings about why I was alone and not interested in finding a husband.

  I shook my head as I tried to clear the image of the mystery man from my mind. I couldn’t, though. I had seen him before, somewhere in the recesses of my mind, and I knew our paths had crossed. I was positive I had seen this man before. I had known him. Something inside of me screamed that I had known him personally.

  When I looked again, he was gone. I quickly stood and rushed over to the flower cart. “Excusez-moi, où, est allè le monsieur?”

  The girl behind the cart shrugged and told me that she had no idea where the gentleman had gone.

  “Shit!” I whispered as I started walking in the same direction as the man. It was no use, though. He was gone. Suddenly, that same aching feeling of loneliness and heartache I had always experienced in Texas rushed back to me. It nearly caught me off balance as I rubbed my hand over my heart.

  “Who are you?” I whispered as I stared out at the crowd. “Who are you?”

  Every day for a year after that encounter I looked for him, but I never did see him again. My mystery man. The only man who had made me feel something for the first time in years. The man I was finally able to put a face to in my nightly dreams.

  Texas — Three Years Later

  As I stepped out of the airport, I breathed in the hot, wet air. “Texas.”

  I’d spent the past eight years in France, throwing myself into my passion and into art, advancing far in my career. When I managed to get a curator position at the Louvre in the Department of Paintings, I knew I had reached the tipping point. I wasn’t happy. I missed my family, my friends, and a piece of me always felt empt
y and unfulfilled, no matter what position was listed on my resume. I was tired of feeling that emptiness, and I knew the only way to fill that void was to go back to Texas. I had ignored it long enough. It was time to move on. Time to beg my parents to finally tell me the truth.

  My drive, my passion for art…I finally accepted the fact that I wasn’t advancing the career I was so hell bent on giving a hundred-and-ten percent to; I was running from a past I was afraid to remember.

  With a smile on my face, I quickly looked up and down for my friend Saryn Carter. She had moved back to Boerne a few years ago with her little girl, Liliana. We had lost touch after high school but had recently reconnected when she moved back to Boerne after going through a divorce from her first husband. It was nice to have somewhat of a lifeline besides my folks. When Saryn had reached out, I had been so surprised to hear from her. It had taken Herculean strength not to ask her questions about my past, but, like my parents, she had somehow gotten the memo that my past was off limits. At least, a particular part of my past was, one that no one wanted to bring up.

  My mind drifted to my folks. They were going to be so surprised. They had no idea I was coming back home to Texas for good. I knew they would be over the moon. They had to be tired of coming to France to see me all the time. I had flown back to Texas twice in the past eight years, mainly for Christmas. Other than that, I had thrown all of my time and attention into my career.

  Running from the ghosts of my past in the process.

  I smiled as I thought about my folks, though. Daddy wasn’t a rancher, but he was born and bred Texas. His middle name should have been cowboy. His real job was an estate lawyer, while my mother owned an art studio in town. I left when I was twenty-five, and here I was about to turn thirty-three. It had felt like a lifetime ago, yet it seemed like only a blip of time had passed. I had left Texas to avoid a truth. A truth I was now honestly ready to discover. My truth. The haunting feeling I’d had since the moment I woke up in that hospital room never really seemed to leave me. At least, not until I landed in France. The pain had eased up a lot, which was one reason I remained there for as long as I had. It was easier to forget my past there—especially the past that I didn’t remember. Except for the nights I cried myself to sleep. I had been so lonely the entire time. Sure, I had attempted to go out a few times on a date, and every single time it felt so wrong. I wasn’t the least bit interested in any of the men. The only man who had ever sparked something inside of me was him. The one I had seen sitting at the coffee shop three years ago. I closed my eyes and let his face pop back into my memory. It hadn’t faded at all. Seeing him sitting at the café. Following him down my street. When I closed my eyes and conjured him, I could see him clear as day. After that little escapade my dreams had escalated, but now they starred my mystery man. It was no wonder his face was as clear as day.