Running To Him - Forbidden Hearts Series Book 6

13| Just Some Painter's-Block

I've made a few mistakes in my life. Not a lot, though. Maybe five or six that I could recall. 

And kissing Jamie last night was definitely one of those mistakes.

But it wasn't the actual kiss that was the problem. For fuck's sake, the truth that she wanted it as much as I did was in her eyes. The timing was the problem. It didn't take a genius to know that I've been wanting to kiss her pretty much ever since I met her. But with what she was going through right now...it just wasn't the time. 

Not to mention, she was extremely vulnerable right now. So, no more kissing. No more playful banter—which was usually one-sided anyway—and no lingering glances of any kind. 

After the kiss happened and I saw that heartbreaking look in her eyes, I had an epiphany. I knew it wasn't a coincidence that she ended up here in Paris. Or that she happened to find my ad for the loft. 

Everything happened for one reason: it was my job to help her. 

No one should face the death of a loved one alone. And if I couldn't be there for her in the ways I'd dreamed about for months and months and months, then I was going to be there for her her way. As friends. Which was why I came up with our little field trip today. I knew that if I didn't fill her time with activities and adventures, she would most likely close herself off and stay hidden in her room. 

"What is this place?" Jamie asked with genuine curiosity. Her eyes were darting all over the village. From the rustic houses to the cobbled streets, then they settled on one of the many French Bistros. 

The cab I ordered dropped us off about five minutes ago. I considered bringing my supplies to paint but decided against it. I wanted to concentrate on the beautiful redhead next to me. If I saw something I really liked, I could always take a picture with my camera, write down a few notes about it, and paint it later. 

Stepping up on the sidewalk beside her, I smiled as I met her gaze. "Welcome to the heart of Paris, Lovette. You're standing in Montmartre. Home of some of history's most famous painters like Picasso, Van Gogh, and Modigliani. And it's also home to the Moulin Rouge."

"I love Moulin Rouge!"

"I know," I chuckled. Since I knew Jamie better than she thought I did, I started leading her down one of the best streets in the village. 

Rue Des Saules. 

"So do you come here a lot? I mean, since you moved here from New York."

When a large family started to pass us on the narrow street, I stepped to the side to make room for them. "Actually, I haven't come here as much as I would've liked." 

"Why not?"

I shrugged as we continued down the historic street. "When I first got here, I was full of excitement and anticipation. All I wanted to do was work. I threw myself into creating new paintings. One after another." 

"Why'd you stop painting?" 

"Who said I stopped?" 

"It's in your tone." Jamie glanced over at me. "And a lot of that was in the past tense." 

She was right. Dammit. I couldn't really tell her the truth. "Just got a little painter's-block is all."

Her small laugh gave me goosebumps. That was until she said, "That's bullshit, Ollie. You're lying." Pulling me to a stop, she held my gaze with her beautiful blue eyes. "Tell me what happened." 

I hated lying to her. Like, I literally got nauseous when I tried to tell her anything but the truth. But if I told her that Harper called me and I knew the truth about what happened, she might move out of the loft and really disappear. That was something I just couldn't let happen.