Page 27 of Canvas of Lies (Spruce Hill #3)
“Nicolas,” he said in a low voice that reminded me so clearly of my father that my heart clenched again, “sometimes things happen that are beyond our control. Your father wanted you to have that painting, oui. He would never have expected you to break the law to get it back, not even to retrieve what was hidden. I think you already know this.”
The knot of tension that had taken up residence in my chest loosened. “I do know it. He would never have wanted Kat involved, either. He loved her like she was his own blood.”
Philippe leaned back in his chair as he studied me. “Before me, I see the boy I’ve called nephew for more than thirty years, the boy who turned into a man so much like Pierre that it brought tears to my eyes to see you again after all these years. He would be so proud of the man you have become.”
I blinked back tears myself, inclining my head in silent acknowledgment. If I spoke, I knew I’d end up crying like a baby.
“Tell me what help I can give to you and your copine , and it is yours. We are delighted to have you here, but tell me, what is it that you seek? ”
I gave a strangled laugh. “That’s a loaded question right there,” I replied.
My uncle only smiled, so I blew out a breath.
“For once, I want the villain to lose a round. If we can find any documentation of the painting’s origin or the fact that it belonged to our family, then we can prove Willoughby is lying. ”
“And even if you do this, you may never get that painting back. Can you live with that?”
Kat’s laughter drifted in through the open windows. Everything in me turned toward the sound, drawn to the warmth of her presence like a heat-seeking missile. When I forced my gaze back to Philippe, his smile was soft, his expression knowing.
“Ah, I see,” he said quietly.
“Yeah.” I wasn’t surprised my uncle understood. We were French, after all. “She’s . . . everything. If I hadn’t already been on this path when I found her again, I would’ve abandoned it for her.”
Jér?me clapped me on the shoulder. “Elle est si belle,” he said, grinning. “Why a beauty like that would choose un connard like you, I could not say, but I am happy for you, cousin.”
When the women came into the kitchen after another few minutes of ribbing from the two Frenchmen, I felt like the sun had just come out from behind a cloud.
My aunt was a stunning woman, with blonde hair several shades lighter than Kat’s, but it was the brilliant smile Kat sent my way that quite simply illuminated the entire room.
The warmth of it soaked into my veins, untwisting any remaining tangles of the knot in my chest .
She fit into my family as easily as she fit in my arms. Even though I hadn’t seen most of them since I was a child, Philippe’s quiet mention of the painting to the right parties caused my other aunts and uncles—some of whom weren’t any blood relation at all—to circle the wagons around both of us.
It wasn’t an experience Kat or I had ever had before, but it filled me with appreciation, with love and a touch of wistfulness.
The next day, after several back-breaking, eye-blurring hours of rifling through boxes from three different attics and storage areas, I called for a break.
As I relaxed with Kat in a hammock strung between two trees in Philippe’s yard, I twirled a lock of her hair around my fingers and stared up at the leaves overhead.
I’d never considered moving back to France, but for the first time in as long as I could remember, I did start thinking about what the future might look like—a future that included Kat at my side.
Images of a little house tucked away from town, with trees for a hammock and room for children to explore, danced before my eyes.
“I had an email from Evelyn,” Kat said, sounding sleepy. “The shit is starting to hit the fan over there. My mother is in Florida at the moment, talking to various reporters and news outlets. Apparently she and her lovely second husband took the bait.”
I kissed the top of her head, nestled as it was in the crook of my shoulder. “That may have to suffice. We haven’t found so much as a reference to the painting so far. ”
Kat twisted to peer up at me. “Is it terrible that I’m still really, really glad we came, even if we don’t find anything helpful? Your family is amazing.”
“I was just thinking the same thing,” I murmured. My sigh was one of contentment, not disappointment—having Kat in my life changed everything for the better. “I still can’t believe you’re fluent in French and I didn’t know.”
She gave an indignant huff and muttered, “I have a great many secrets. You don’t know everything about me, monsieur .”
“No?” I nuzzled her ear. “I know enough, enough to realize you’re everything I ever wanted.”
Kat drew in a sharp breath at the words, then released it, sinking against me. “Oh?”
“Je t’aime, Kitten . ”
The whispered words shivered across her skin, raising goosebumps before my warm palm smoothed over them. A tear spilled over her cheek, landing in a damp circle on my shirt. I immediately lifted my hand to her face, urging her to look at me.
“Oh, Kat. Don’t cry, please don’t cry,” I murmured.
When her lips lifted to touch mine, I knew I was lost—my heart belonged to her.
It always had. She drew back and smiled in that soft way that made her blue eyes shimmer with joy.
Emotion flooded my chest, threatening to burst forth like shooting stars.
Never in my life had my heart felt so gloriously full.
“I think I’ve always loved you, you know,” she said quietly .
My arms tightened around her. “Believe me, I do know, because I’ve loved you just as long.”
Contentment cloaked us both as surely as the dappled sunlight that danced across our skin. Kat closed her eyes and I let the warmth of her body and her words sink through me.
Not all quests ended with success, I knew that well enough, but now that we had found one another, it certainly felt like we’d cleared the biggest hurdle of all.