Free Cognac & Couture (The Passport Series Book 2) by Celia Kennedy

the sail, boom, and mast. I breathed in the smell of suntan lotion
as he squatted down next to me. His sun-streaked blond hair needed trimming,
and the one dimple deeply rooted in his right cheek begged for a kiss. As we
gathered everything up, I thanked him for the help. “You saved me a ton of
time.”
    “Then how about a beer?”
    “How about the Northlake Tavern?
It’s just down the road. You could follow me.”
    “Or I could ride with you, and
then you could bring me back to my car.”
    I openly sized him up, taking in
everything from the ends of his hair to the tips of his long toes. “Six foot
three, about two hundred pounds, big feet, strong hands. I’ll take you out with
the boom, if you try anything funny.”
    Chuckling, he stated, “Eighty-six
kilos.”
    “I’ll warn you, the pizza is
terrible, but the beer is good. If you’re hungry, we should go somewhere else.”
    “I wonder what you mean by ‘good
beer.’ I haven’t had any yet.”
    “Well then, the pizza is terrible,
the beer might be, too, but the bar is nearby, and I have to go to the bathroom.”
    Squinting into the sun again, he
smiled and pronounced the plan, “Perfect…”
    And the rest of the summer had
been perfect.
    ***
    I felt a
smile tug at the corners of my mouth as I remembered his gorgeous face. He was
so cocky, so funny, and, in the end, so perfect for me. “He was a summer
intern at Microsoft, from Denmark. He worked hard, played hard. We traveled
quite a bit together. It was incredible to see life through his eyes.
    “I knew with absolute certainty
that what we felt was real. We had a plan. When the summer ended, he would
return to Denmark to finish his degree. I would return to England to finish
mine. Then, after graduating, we would get jobs and live happily ever after.
But…” I could feel the lump forming again, so I gulped down my glass of wine,
waiting until I was more numb. “After three magical months, he boarded a plane
and flew home. After several days, when he hadn’t called, I worked up the
courage to call him.” I remembered dialing his number with unsteady fingers.
    “I was so excited. I explained who
I was to whoever answered the phone. Then…” My face crumpled in pain, and I
found myself in Hillary’s arms, crying like it had all happened yesterday.
    “Bella…” Tiziana’s consoling voice
wobbled.
    It was too hard, but now that we
had gotten this far, what was a little more pain? A little more disclosure?
“His funeral had been that day. He died in a car crash. He’d been out with some
friends, drinking.” With the words spoken, I felt utterly exposed and raw. “I
don’t remember much about the days that followed, just flashes here and there.
My mother repeating over and over, ‘You’ll be okay.’” My voice took on a very
matter-of-fact tone. “He died instantly. I took comfort in the fact that he
hadn’t lingered in pain, hadn’t been afraid.”
    The memory of my mother rocking me
as she said, “I don’t know if this helps, but Mikkel told them he loved you. He
was excited for them to meet you. It was real. It was real, Kathy. It might not
seem like it now, but one day, remembering him will be beautiful.” It had
comforted me, and, over the years, I had lost myself in those words and dreamt
of the possibilities—wondering what life with him would have been like.
    When I came to all but the end of
my story, I could barely breathe from the tension that had built up in my
chest. I took several deep breaths, trying to relax. “When I returned to
school, I was shattered, but you were all so happy, and I wanted, I needed ,
to be happy. So I borrowed your happiness. I went about creating a life that
was livable. I didn’t know how to tell you what had happened, as time passed. I
couldn’t speak the words or explain how part of me had faded away with his
death—some kind of innocence.”
    A lengthy silence followed.
    “I know this is going to sound
ridiculous, but how did we not