Cecelia appreciated that he had so much faith in her, but she wasn’t the innocent girl he knew from back in school. That girl had been smothered the day her parents forced her to break up with Deacon and put her life back on track to the future that they wanted for her. She had become an unfortunate mix of both her parents—a cutthroat business owner, a perfection-seeking elitist and, more often than she would have liked, a plain old bitch. He hadn’t been around to see the changes in her, but she knew it was true. She was absolutely certain that most of the people in town were thrilled to see her taken down a notch. Maybe even a few of the people whom she’d once considered her friends.
“I’m glad you think so highly of me, Deacon, but I can’t help but wonder if you’re actually seeing me as I am, or as you want to see me.”
“I see you as you are, beneath the designer clothes, fancy makeup and social facade you’ve crafted. That girl hasn’t changed. She’s still in there, you just haven’t let her out in a long time.”
Cecelia felt tears start to well in her eyes as her cheeks burned with emotion. She really hoped that he was right, and that the good person he remembered was still here. It seemed like over the past decade she had lost touch with herself, if she had ever really known who she truly was. She’d spent her whole life trying to live up to her parents’ expectations, then Chip’s expectations...
Who was Cecelia Morgan anyway?
She wiped her damp cheek with the back of her hand and reached for her coffee cup to give her something to focus on instead of the emotions raging just beneath the surface. “I don’t know who I am anymore.”
Deacon leaned forward, resting his elbows on the knees of his pajama pants. “That’s the beauty of being in charge of your own life and not trying to live up to anybody else’s standards. You can do whatever you want to do. If I had just sat back and accepted the life that everyone expected of me, we wouldn’t be sitting on the balcony of my five-star hotel in France. I wanted to be more, so I made myself more. You can be whoever you want to be, Cecelia, and if that means putting aside the mean-girl persona you’ve had all these years, and being the girl I used to know, you can do that, too.”
“Can I?” she asked. “I’m not entirely sure that girl knew who she was, either. I was so easily manipulated at that age. I mean, all those plans we made, all those dreams we had for the future...that was important to me and I threw it all away. For what? Because my parents threatened to cut me off and throw me out of the house if I didn’t.”
Deacon’s head turned sharply toward her. “What?”
Cecelia winced. “You didn’t know that?”
His expression softened. “I suppose I knew they were ultimately behind your change of heart, but I thought you just wanted to please them as you always did.”
“I did want to please them, but not about this. I loved you, Deacon. I didn’t want to break up with you. It broke my heart to do it, but I felt like I didn’t have any choice. They were my parents. The only people in the world who had wanted me when no one else did. I couldn’t bear for them to turn their backs on me.”
“I wanted you.”
Cecelia looked into Deacon’s serious green eyes and realized she had made a monumental mistake that day all those years ago. Yes, she had a booming business and he had been successful on his own, but what could they have built together? They’d never know.
“I was a fool,” she admitted. “I don’t want to make the same mistake again. I want to make the right choice for my life this time.”
Cecelia sipped her coffee and tried to think of who she wanted to be. Not who her parents wanted her to be. Not who Chip expected her to be. The answer came to her faster than she anticipated. She wanted to be the woman she was when she was with Deacon. When she was with him she felt strong and brave and beautiful. She never felt like she wasn’t good enough. That was how she wanted to feel: loved.
But could she feel that way without him? Their time together had been exciting and romantic, but she had no doubt there was a time limit. Deacon had no interest in staying in Royal. He didn’t like the town and he didn’t like the people, and for a good reason. When The Bellamy was opened and running, he would return here to France, and she didn’t blame him. This may very well be the most beautiful place she’d ever seen. She would be eager to return, as well.
She might feel like a superhero when she was with him, but once she was alone, could she be her own kryptonite?
* * *
“Dinner was wonderful,” Cecelia said.
Deacon took her hand and they strolled along la Croisette together. The sun had already set, leaving the sky a golden color that was quickly being overtaken by the inky purple of early evening. The lights from the shops and restaurants along the walkway lighted their path and the crests of the ocean waves beyond them.
“I’m glad you enjoyed it. There’s no such thing as bad food in France. They wouldn’t allow it.”
Cecelia laughed and Deacon found himself trying to memorize the sound. He hadn’t heard her laughter nearly enough when they were in Royal. He missed it. In their carefree younger days, she’d laughed freely and often. He wanted her to laugh more even if he wasn’t around to hear it. That was part of the reason he’d brought her here—to get her away from the drama of home in the hopes he might catch a fleeting glimpse of the girl he’d once loved.
Not that he didn’t appreciate the woman she’d become. The older, wiser, sexier Cecelia certainly had its benefits. Looking at her now, he could hardly keep his hands to himself. She was wearing a cream lace fitted sheath dress. It plunged deep, highlighting her ample cleavage, and clung to every womanly curve she’d developed while they were apart. Falling for Cecelia was the last thing on his mind when he arrived in Royal, but it was virtually impossible for him to keep his distance from her when she looked like that.
“Can we walk in the water?” she asked, surprising him.
“If you want to.”
They both slipped out of their shoes, and Deacon rolled up his suit pants. He hadn’t thought she would want to walk along the shore and let the sand ruin her new pedicure. Yet with her crystal embellished stilettos in her free hand, she tugged him off the stone path toward the water.
The cold water that washed over them was a shocking contrast to the warm sand on his bare feet. He expected Cecelia to bolt the moment the chill hit her, but instead, her eyes got big with excitement and she laughed again.
“It’s a little chilly,” he said.
“It’s April. It feels good, though. I can’t remember the last time I put my toes in the sand and walked through the surf. Too long.”