Free Foreign Love (An International Sports Romance) (Love in Shades) by Cassie-Ann L. Miller

has drifted across his eyes, making his expression gloomy. “You want to go back to New York?”
     
    I shrug my shoulders as we move past a patch of colorful tulips. “If I can’t dance, there’s nothing here in Paris for me.”
     
    And I regret the words the instant they’re out of my mouth. I see hurt flash across Lucien’s features. He offers me a shallow smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. He’s silent for along. “We should head back. Allons-y,” he says in a disconsolate tone.
     
    I pull out of our embrace and he clasps his hand around mine. We walk unhurriedly through the cobblestone street, past the cafés and the artisanal shops. We finally arrive at the métro, still holding hands. We pay our fare and move effortlessly through the turnstiles.
     
    As the train barrels down the track towards us, Lucien wheels around to look at me. He bends towards me, cupping my face in his big, warm hands. “Come back…For me, Julia.”
     
    I look up at him. “What?”
     
    “Once you have the surgery. Come back to Paris. For me.”
     
    His phone rings just then. He doesn’t even glance at it. He just stares at me, his eyes pinning me expectantly. The train grinds to a halt and the doors crawl open. Commuters bustle by us, jostling my messenger bag slightly and stepping on my canvas sneakers as they go. We stand there facing each other, eyes locked on one another.
     
    “That’s crazy,” I say quietly. “I can’t stay here.”
     
    “You say you have no reason to stay in Paris if you can’t dance,” he says quickly. “But you have me. I need you. I want you, Julia. Come back for me.”
     
    I should tell him that that’s too much to ask.  I should say that we’re moving too fast and warn him to slow down. But somewhere inside of me, Lucien’s suggestion echoes in my blood, hums through my veins and  whispers to me that what he said is the best damn idea I’ve heard in a while.
     
    But instead of saying that out loud, my head snaps in the direction of the train doors as the slide shut. “We missed our train,” I say quietly. “Now, we have to wait for the next one.”
     
    I leave him standing there on the platform and walk over to a nearby bench, taking a seat.
     

Chapter 22
     
    Julia
     
     
     
    I curl up on a corner of the couch, my sketchpad pulled into my lap. I sketch from memory a skirt that I’d seen a woman wearing on the métro today. It was long and flowy in vibrant shades of pink. I add a few details to it, making the design my own.
    That would look great on Mackenzie , I think to myself as I hold the sketchpad up to admire my work.
     
    “That’s gorgeous.”
     
    I startle and the pad slips from my hands.
     
    I glance up to where Lucien is standing over my shoulder. “Hi…”
     
    “Hi…” he says rounding the couch and taking a seat at the other end. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”
     
    I offer him a weak smile. “It’s okay.” Things have been awkward between us since our trainride back here this evening. I told him that I should go back to New York for the surgery. He told me that he wants me to come back and be with him.
     
    And that sounds absolutely fucking crazy…
     
    Except that, I want that, too.
     
    I’m just as crazy as he is.
     
    “I love your drawings. You’re so talented, Julia,” he says as he slides onto the far end of the couch.
     
    I smile a small smile. “It’s a hobby I’ve had since I was a kid – drawing clothes. I sort of forgot about it for a while. I’ve been so busy with dancing and everything. But now that I’m injured, I’ve been drawing more. It’s helping keep me sane.”
     
    He nods knowingly. “For me, it’s cooking. Cooking keeps me sane.”
     
    He peers over at the page on my lap as I continue to draw.
     
    “I was thinking,” he says finally, “you should go back. To your apartment.”
     
    My heart sinks when I hear him say the words. But what was I expecting? He asked me to return to Paris after my