Sunday blurs into Tuesday, Wednesday into Friday. Through it we find ourselves in an easy rhythm, as though we’ve been doing it for years. During the day, while Jonah focuses on the B&B, I take advantage of the time I have to myself and explore Bayeux. I try different restaurants, visit the cathedral, and spend a whole afternoon at the museum where the tapestry is on display.
In the evenings, I sneak over to the barn where Jonah has dinner waiting for me. We eat and drink, and I tell him about where I’ve been that day, and what I’ve seen. He listens, laughing at my enthusiasm. We talk about the new guests. A couple from Spain, a family from Germany. The Australians are still there, leaving each morning on day trips. Their usual return after dinner saves Jonah from having to run into Matilda too often. Not that the time has diminished her crush on him.
Jonah tells me about the repairs he’s been realizing are needed more and more, things he assumes his father has not been able to do on his own. I watch as he writes lists, calls companies for quotes, and makes plans to get things in order. Sometimes, after dinner, he works on his computer at the kitchen island while I play the piano.
It’s strange how quickly a place can start to feel like home. The streets have become familiar, that sense of déjà vu following me wherever I go. It’s as though I’ve come back to a place I’ve known all my life.
“I had something interesting happen today,” I say, my fingers pressing on the keys lightly, the gentle tune filling the air.
Jonah looks up from his computer. “Interesting how?”
“I got an offer to play somewhere.”
“Really?” He closes the laptop and brings the wine over, refilling my glass. “Where?”
“That Italian restaurant down by the cathedral. I went in there for lunch, and the owner and I started talking, and when he found out I was a pianist, he asked me to play something. I almost said no, but thought, fuck it, why not? So I played a song, and he asked if I’d return tomorrow night and play for an hour. He said he’d pay me.”
“That’s amazing. What time?”
“Seven.”
“I’ll make sure to reserve a table.”
“You don’t have to,” I say dismissively.
“Charlotte.” He puts his finger under my chin, leaning in close. “Wild horses couldn’t keep me away.” He kisses me, and all thoughts of the piano disappear.
I swing my leg over the stool and open my mouth to his. The velvet of his tongue stirs a burning need in me, and I grab his shirt, pulling it over his head. Jonah is in no hurry though, taking his time with his mouth on mine, his fingers entwining in my hair.
Then, all of a sudden, he lifts me and throws me over his shoulder, carrying me upstairs. I laugh in surprise as he drops me down onto the bed, the ravenous look in his eyes turning me on even more. I quickly pull off my blouse and go to remove my bra.
“Wait,” he says, standing at the edge of the bed. “Take it off slowly.”
A thrill courses through me, and I keep my eyes on his as I unclasp my bra. Pulling down one strap, and then the other, I stop, holding his gaze before peeling it off. There’s a certain eroticism to it, especially in the way he looks at me. Enticed by it, I lean back on the bed and carefully take off my underwear. “Is this what you want?” I tease, hiking up my skirt. Spreading my legs, I touch myself.
“Fuck,” he breathes, liberating himself from the rest of his clothing. “Don’t stop,” he implores, going to the drawer and pulling out a condom.
I moan, as much from the pleasure of my own touch as the desire in his eyes. He takes himself in his hands, stroking a few times before putting the condom on.
“We’re going to take this slow,” he says, kneeling on the bed. With a fire in his eyes, he moves over me, reaching between my legs, caressing me.
He’s true to his word, touching me in the ways he knows will make me tremble. Time disappears around us, and the world with it, leaving only he and I.
When at last, it’s too much, I call out his name, begging for him. He answers in full, pushing himself inside me, releasing me from my anguish. Moving slow and deliberate, he brings me to the edge of myself and back again. Taking, then giving. A connection so intense I can’t figure out where he begins and I end.
I have no desire to find out.
That evening, I stand in front of my mirror, wearing the cocktail dress I bought that afternoon. The stormy blue chiffon gives me a feminine look, and I pin my hair up, leaving a few curls to frame my face.
It’s a tradition of mine to wear a new dress the first night I perform somewhere I’ve never played before. Not only does it instill confidence, it also helps me to get in the headspace of performing, almost like putting on a costume. Finishing the look off with nude kitten heels, I stare at my reflection, feeling ready.
Grabbing my pink blazer and handbag, I head downstairs and out the front door. There’s a slight chill, so I put on the jacket before stepping through the gate and onto the street. Jonah is leaning against the wall a few meters down, waiting for me. He’s wearing navy blue pants, a white button-up shirt, and a debonair smile.
“You look amazing,” he says, quickly glancing around before kissing me.
“Why, thank you.” My fake southern drawl has him laughing as we continue down the street in the direction of the restaurant.
“Do you get nervous before playing?” he asks.
“Always. But it’s a good kind of nervous, mixed with excitement, if that makes sense.”
“I’ve only performed in front of people once. In high school. A theatre production of Jesus Christ Superstar.”
“Let me guess,” I say. “You played Jesus?”
He laughs loudly. “Definitely not. I had the honor of playing one of the lepers.”
“One of the lepers?”
“We were many.”
“Did you have a line?”
“I did.” He coughs and then belts out at the top of his lungs, “Seeee my skin, I’m a mass of bloooooood.”
I stop, unable to walk from laughing so hard. “That was your line?”
“I couldn’t forget it if I tried.”
“And why would you want to?”
When we get to the restaurant, Jonah holds the door open for me, and I step inside to find the place full. Thierry, the owner, spots me from across the room and makes a beeline towards me.
“Miss Reynolds, I’m so happy you’ve come to play for us.”
“Thank you for having me. This is Jonah Emmerson. Jonah this is Thierry.”
The men shake hands and talk briefly, as I look around the restaurant. There are at least sixty people inside. My nerves increase, momentarily outweighing the excitement.
“I should go get started,” I tell them, not wanting to stand around with the nervous energy I’m feeling.
“Yes, of course. Mr. Emmerson, I have the table you reserved.” Thierry waves a hostess over. “Please take Mr. Emmerson to table eight,” he tells her before giving his attention back to me. “And Miss Reynolds, if you’ll come with me.”
I glance at Jonah, who gives me an encouraging smile, and follow Thierry to the opposite side of the restaurant. Taking a seat at the piano, I pull out the sheet music I purchased in town. With a deep breath, I give myself a moment to let my nerves settle.
Focus then forget.
I begin to play, the nervousness disappearing as a deep concentration takes its place. From the second I begin the first song, to the final notes of the last, the world around me fades away. I pour myself into the music, into each chord and variation, wanting to evoke the same emotions the pieces bring to me.
The enthusiastic applause I receive at the end gives me hope that I’ve been successful. I’ve barely stood from the stool when Thierry comes rushing over, a beaming grin on his face.
“You were fantastic,” he declares.
“Thank you.”
“You will come again, yes?”
I hadn’t expected the offer, so I don’t know how to reply. “I’m only here for another week.”
“We will talk later. Go, sit, be with your friend.”
On a high, I walk towards Jonah’s table, and see him watching me, his expression stunned.
“You,” he says, standing, “are fucking incredible.” And even though we’re in public, and people’s eyes are on us, he pulls me to him and kisses me.
“Well, hello, you two.” Jonah and I part to find Francois staring at us. “Isn’t tonight full of surprises?” Francois smiles.
I wrack my brains for some semblance of an excuse to explain why Jonah’s lips were on mine but come up empty. Jonah, it seems, is having the same problem.
“Oh, relax,” Francois says with a laugh. “I was talking about the piano playing. You two I’ve known about for a while.”
“You have?” I ask, confused.
He presses his lips together. “It was easy to put two and two together after I saw you both going into the pantry.”
“Oh my god,” I mutter, mortified. I glare at Jonah who appears to think the whole thing is hilarious.
“Are you here alone?” Jonah asks him.
“I was meant to meet someone, but it seems I’ve been stood up.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, my embarrassment ebbing. “Why don’t you join us?”
“Oh no, I couldn’t intrude.”
“It’s no intrusion,” I insist.
Thierry appears out of nowhere with a bottle of wine. “A token of appreciation,” he says, placing it on the table.
“That’s so generous, thank you.”
“You’re very welcome, and I hope you will consider playing here again.”
“I will.”
My answer seems to please him, his broad smile unchanging as he moves to talk to nearby guests.
Jonah indicates to one of the chairs. “Join us,” he tells Francois. “We have free wine.”
Francois laughs. “You know how to twist my arm.”
We each take a seat, and Jonah pours us a glass.
“Thank you,” Francois says. “You have saved me another night of eating alone.”
“I can’t believe you were stood up. Who would do that to someone?”
He gives me a resigned look. “It is not the first time.”
“Some people are assholes,” Jonah says, taking a sip of the Pinot Noir.
“Has this never happened to you?” Francois asks.
Jonah shakes his head, but then reconsiders. “Does it count if the person didn’t show up because they genuinely thought she said The King’s Arms pub, and not the Armed King’s pub?”
“Are you telling us you stood a poor girl up?” I ask, shocked.
“Completely by accident. I thought I was the one being stood up until she texted me, furious, and I realized the mistake.”
“Did you go meet her?” Francois asks.
“Hell no. Her texts were so angry I figured I’d be walking into a firing squad.”
“You’re unbelievable,” I admonish half-heartedly.
“What about you?” Francois asks me. “Have you stood someone up?”
“Never. Unlike Jonah, I have morals.” I give him a playful look and receive a lopsided grin. “I have been stood up though. Well, I suppose I have. Can a boyfriend stand you up?”
They both look at me curiously.
“Let’s see.” I think back on the numerous occasions. “There was my thirtieth birthday party, his work function, and oh yeah, our first anniversary.”
Francois opens his mouth, stunned. “This was the same man?”
“My ex, Joel.”
“Wait,” Jonah says, “He stood you up on your anniversary?”
“In his defense, he was busy cheating on me.” I take a large sip of my wine. “He broke up with me just after my grandpa died. Which, I found out, was when he discovered his mistress was pregnant.”
Francois makes a low murmur of disgust.
Jonah, however, keeps his gaze squarely fixed on mine. “What kind of fucking idiot would ever let you go?”
“Hear, hear!” Francois declares, looking at us with a knowing smile. “But, as they say, one man’s loss is another man’s gain.”
When we get back to Jonah’s place that night, I can tell that there’s something on his mind. Standing in the kitchen, drinking a glass of water, I watch him pause at the island, lost in thought.
“Jonah?” I say gently. “Are you alright?”
He looks at me, an intensity in his eyes. “I want you to know that I would never treat you like your ex did.”
The severity in his voice catches me off-guard. “I know that.”
“I hope...” He hesitates and moves towards me. “I hope you know that I’ll never hurt you.”
He closes the space between us, kissing me. There’s an urgency in him, even in the gentle way his mouth moves with mine, a need I’m not sure I could name if I tried. I give him something more than words, and as the fire ignites between us, he lifts me up onto the counter.
“You’re the only woman I want.”
I place my hands on either side of his face, moved by his sincerity. “Of all the things I thought I’d find in France, I never imagined this. I never imagined you.”
“Me neither,” he says, his voice heavy.
And though there are more things to say, decisions that need to be made, for now, it’s enough to be together.
For now, it’s enough to know that he feels the same.
For now, words are not needed.
For now.