Then it occurred to him. All he wanted from Sylvie was love. Such a little thing, and yet so very much.
He took her face in both his hands and set her away from him slightly. Tears were streaming down her face, but he did not care now. There were more important things on his mind.
“Tell me,” he demanded. “Tell me that you love me. Everything else can be worked out if we have that as a starting point. Oh, God, Sylv, just say the words.”
Her lips worked, but nothing came out.
He dropped his hands from her face and stepped back… waiting.
Nothing.
This was just a misunderstanding… that she would actually think he’d pretended to be attracted to her… but saying the words now would be meaningless. And his intentions had been pure in making the announcement to the press about JBX. Hell, since when had it become a crime to make a mistake? Comprehension would come later for Sylvie, but there were greater things at stake first. Like love, and its foundation: trust.
If he hadn’t known it before, he knew now just how strong and deeply ingrained were the biases and preconceptions that people held about him.
“Sylvie, I love you,” he said with all the earnestness he could muster. “Do you believe me?”
“I don’t know what to believe about your feelings now. But not for one minute do I think you felt that way all those times in the beginning when you claimed to be under the spell of a love potion. And if you lied then, why not now?”
“For what purpose, Sylv?”
“Logic says—”
“Screw logic! What does your heart say?”
She flinched at his vehemence.
Luc raked the fingers of both hands through his hair, still unused to its shorter length, and stalked around the room. How to get through to the stubborn woman?
Suddenly, he stopped, noticing the two separate cages.
“What’s wrong with Samson and Delilah? How come you separated them?”
Sylvie shrugged. “Delilah can’t stand Samson anymore.”
“Really? Just like that?”
She nodded, a sad expression in her eyes. “I guess the love potion wore off.”
The silence between them was telling. If the love between Samson and Delilah faded so easily, why not theirs?
No, he refused to think like that.
“Sylv, what do you want from me?”
“N-nothing,” she answered. If it weren’t for the hesitancy in her voice, Luc would have reached over and shaken the bejesus out of her.
“Do you need more time?”
She shook her head. “I don’t think time is going to heal this one, Luc.”
Her words had the ring of finality to them.
“Do you want me to leave?” he inquired, not really expecting her to answer in the positive.
“I think that would be best,” she said in a wavering whisper.
Luc could barely breathe past the lump in his throat. He was angry and frustrated and hurt. “I pity you, Sylv. I really do.”
She tilted her head in question.
“I thought that each of us had grown in some way during those days we spent together… each as a result of the other. I know that I acknowledged some things about myself, realized I’ve spent a lifetime living down to other people’s expectations. Well, no more. If people want to call me The Swamp Solicitor or ‘the bad boy of the bayou,’ well, let ’em. From now on, my self-identity comes from here,” he said, pounding a fist over his heart. “You taught me that.”
Sylvie put the fingertips of both hands to her mouth to stifle a sob, but he wasn’t done with her yet.
“You, on the other hand, have been trying to live up to other people’s expectations. And you’re still doing it. Go ahead, Sylv, revert to your old crutch… the shyness and aloofness. Crawl back in your shell and look for a safe man. Judge me all you want, but it’s got to be god-awful lonely up there on that pedestal all by yourself.”
Luc turned on his heel and made his way toward the front door with a haze of tears in his eyes. His pride was the only thing carrying him forward.