Free Lost December by Richard Paul Evans Page B

agony?
    Luke Crisp’s Diary

    Candace wouldn’t talk to me the rest of the day, and I ended up spending the night in Sean’s room. The next morning she opened the door when I knocked. Her eyes were so swollen they were almost closed. She looked like she had cried all night.
    “What do you want?” she said.
    “I want to tell you how sorry I am. It was so stupid. I had been drinking … It was wrong. I love you, Candace. I never wanted to hurt you.”
    “How many times did you see her?”
    “Once. Just the one time. I was so drunk, I don’t even know her name.”
    “Why didn’t you tell me?”
    “Because I didn’t want to hurt you.”
    “Well, you did.”
    I exhaled slowly. “I was going to tell you. I felt so guilty. But Sean talked me out of it. He said I was being selfish by trying to assuage my guilt by breaking your heart.”
    She looked at me incredulously. “And you listened to him?”
    I shook my head. “I know, it’s stupid. I’m really sorry. Idon’t know what else to say. I’m begging you. Please, give me another chance. It will never happen again. I promise.”
    “And why should I believe you now?”
    “Because you know I love you.” I looked at her hopefully. “And because you love me.”
    Her eyes began to well up with tears.
    “I’m so sorry,” I said.
    She wiped her eyes. “I know.” She looked at me. “No more secrets.”
    “No more secrets,” I said.
    “If you ever do it again, I won’t give you another chance.”
    “It won’t happen again.”
    She let me back in the room. So much for romantic Paris.

CHAPTER
Twenty-One
    We haven’t seen Sean for days.
Neither of us has suggested sending out a search party
.
    Luke Crisp’s Diary

    I was through with France. We’d lost Lucy and Marshall, and, frankly, with Sean now owing me more than $50,000 I wouldn’t have been too upset to lose him too. Worst of all, I had almost lost Candace. I had planned to propose to her in Paris, and now I was just lucky that she hadn’t flown home. I hoped that Italy would bring a different fate.

    The next morning the three of us flew from Paris to Rome. Sean was hungover from a final night of partying and Candace was quiet most of the way.
    Sean suggested we stay at the Residenza Napoleone III, which is exactly what it sounds like—the hotel had been the residence of Emperor Napoleon III during the 1830s. Considering the price of the place, I probably would have found someplace else if it wasn’t for what Candace and I had just gone through. I wanted her to be someplace special.

    We didn’t see much of Sean the next week. I don’t know where he went, but we didn’t miss him. We needed the time alone to set things right. We took in the usual sights: the Colosseum and the Forum, the Spanish Steps, and the Trevi Fountain. We spent a day at Vatican City where we listened to a choir in St. Peter’s Basilica and followed a guide through the Sistine Chapel. By our third day, things between us felt good again.
    We dined in three piazzas: Piazza Navona with its Bernini fountains, Piazza del Popolo with its Egyptian obelisk, and Piazza di Spagna with its marble boat churning with fresh water. By the end of our first week in Italy, we decided we’d seen enough of Rome and made plans to leave the next day by train. We planned to go to Florence, Bologna, and then Venice. We still hadn’t seen Sean and frankly I was ready to just leave him.
    We had been asleep for several hours when someone pounded on our door. I checked the time on the electric alarm clock: 2:46. I turned on the lamp on the nightstand next to me and walked to the door. I looked through the door’s peephole and saw Sean standing there.
    “We’re sleeping. Go away.”
    “Luke, open up. It’s urgent.”
    Surprisingly, he didn’t sound drunk. “Just a minute,” I said. I walked over to the closet and put on a robe.
    Candace woke. “Who’s at the door?”
    “It’s Sean,” I said.
    “What time is it?”
    “Almost