I dared not say what I hoped, that he felt about me the way I did about him. That he loved me. We gazed into each other’s eyes, then he put his hand behind my head and gently pulled me into him and we kissed. Then we kissed and kissed. It was the first time I’d kissed anyone in years, but I’d never kissed anyone like that in my entire life. I had never felt more swept away, more lost in someone else, or even my own head. When we parted I said breathlessly, “So much for the platonic clause.”

“Men can’t have platonic relationships.”

We kissed again. In spite of my best efforts, I’d done exactly what I knew I shouldn’t. I’d fallen deeply in love with a man who was going to leave me.

We walked back to the hotel holding hands. We stopped outside my room and kissed again.

“Do you want to come inside?” I asked.

“Desperately,” he said. He breathed out slowly. “But I better not.”

“You’re right,” I said. “Are you sure?”

“Barely,” he replied. We kissed some more, and then I reluctantly pulled back a little, just until our lips were apart, our noses still touching. “I better let you get some sleep.”

“Okay.”

“Thank you for tonight. For everything. I love my necklace.”

“I love you,” he said.

The words shocked me. I pulled back and looked at him. As much as I had wanted to hear those words, I hadn’t expected to. Emotion welled up inside me. Of course I loved him, but he couldn’t love me.

“What’s wrong?” he said.

I couldn’t speak. I kissed him again, then quickly ducked inside my room, leaving him standing there in the hallway, confused. I fell on my bed and cried. I also felt confused, torn by two equally powerful emotions, joy for being loved and fear of being loved, horrified by the truth that he’d fallen in love with someone he didn’t really know and wouldn’t love once he did.

Chapter Twenty-Five

CHAPTER

Twenty-five

It’s been said that “perfect love casts out all fear,” but, in my case, it seems to be the source of it.

Elise Dutton’s Diary

I woke the next morning crying. I had had a terrible nightmare. Nicholas and I had gotten married. I was in an elegant, beaded ivory wedding dress, he was in tails with a wingtip shirt and red band tie and sash. We ran from the church to a car decorated by our guests, climbed inside, and drove off. Then Nicholas looked in the mirror. “What’s that?”

“What’s what, dear?” I asked.

“In the backseat. There’s a box or something.” We both turned around. In the backseat was my daughter’s coffin.