Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 69488 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69488 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Yours truly,
Silvia
I looked over the letter, which I had read over a hundred times. Her handwriting was elegant, her words powerful. I felt horrid that I couldn’t be there for her. Do more for her sake. I folded the letter and placed it back into its envelope. I put it carefully back into my bag. I was going to cherish her words and live just like she advised.
After I took a quick shower, I dressed up. I was going to explore Paris, first stop, the Eiffel Tower.
I picked up a great tour guidebook complete with a map which broke down all the places one should go. I was buzzing with excitement as I made my way through the winding streets. I couldn’t even describe the feeling of seeing the River Seine. I was literally standing on history and on a totally different continent. For the first time in my life, I was alone and I made decisions for me. Not for my father or for Sofia, not even Daimon, but for me and me alone.
Paris was a dream come true. I loved it here. The Eiffel Tower, the museums, the food, the wine and most importantly the people. Sam and I had gone out to dinner a few times. He seriously was a good man, and was a lot of fun to laugh with.
“So you still haven’t told me about Daimon,” Sam said as he lifted up his glass of wine. We had met at a restaurant his friend recommended, Le Père Fouettard. It was a classic Parisian bistro in the 1st district in Paris or as the Parisians would say ‘le 1er arrondisment’. The dark iron staircase that was prominent to one side, contrasted with the light color of the hand-carved wood. The large storefront windows allowed the soft light of the day to seep in. The bar that was stacked with numerous bottles of alcohol reminded me so much of the one in the French movie Amélie. Sam told me his friend would join us later on for drinks.
“There isn’t much to say,” I said, looking around taking in the crowd as they ate their food.
“Addie, if there isn’t much to say, then why the face?” Sam probed.
“He did something for me, but lied about it,” I sighed.
“What an ass,” Sam bit out.
“He is an ass, but it’s not like that. As much as I’m angry with him, I can’t seem to let him go. I want him.” I sighed again. “I want him in every aspect of my life. I want him here with me right now, getting into fights and pushing me beyond my limits,” I said honestly, for the first time in months. I met Sam’s face, which was none too pleased. “I must be screwed up in the head. Daimon did something that most would consider wrong by all aspects, but here I am wishing he’d walk right in here, see you, growl at me and pull me up and drag me away with him,” I said earnestly.
“Well, that all depends on you, not on what others think. If Daimon did something you can’t forgive, then forget him. But if you can’t forget him, then let him back into your life. Just make him pay for it.” Sam winked.
“I just don’t know now,” I murmured.
“Sam!” A woman in a stunner of a three-piece suit came running in and hugged him. I looked away, only because of the look on his face. Sam wasn’t here for R&R like he said he was. He was here for her.
“Hey, Chantal,” Sam said nervously as he tried to get up from his seat, but she wouldn’t let him. She looked at me and smiled.
“This is Addie Evans.” He gestured to me. “And this is my good friend Chantal Rigaud.”
“Nice to meet you,” I greeted.
“Enchanté.”
“Chantal works for Christie’s here in Paris,” Sam said, beaming at her. God, he had it bad. Why wouldn’t he? She was simply beautiful with her auburn hair and chocolate eyes. Her body was lush and full; her smile was bright and welcoming. She was…wow…I wish I had the confidence she did.
“Oui, I work at Christie’s here and sometimes I go to London.” Her French accent was exquisite and drew me in. “I just acquired a new Stradivarius.” She smiled, waving over the waiter for a glass to pour herself some wine.
I remembered Daimon had one. I remembered him playing it. I remembered the soft strong sounds of his melodies as he would stand and play for me. I also remembered the way he destroyed it. “How—how much is it going for?” I stammered. Chantal looked at me confused.
“You play?” she asked.
“No, not at all, but Daimon…Daimon, my husband, plays,” I murmured.
“Well, it won’t go up for action until the end of the week. I can let you know.” Chantal was a lot of fun; actually she was perfect for Sam. Too bad he was too afraid to approach her.