“And that. Why don’t you call me Étienne anymore?”

“It's a physical sickness. Étienne. How much I love him. I love Étienne. I love that the accent over his first name is called an acute accent, and that he has a cute accent.”

“His eyes lock on mine."Anna,I promise that I will never leave you."My heart pounds in response.And Étienne knows it,because he takes my hand and holds it against his chest,to show me how hard his heart is pounding,too.”

“I trail my fingers across his cheek. He stays perfectly still for me. “Please stop apologizing, Étienne.”“Say my name again,” he whispers.I close my eyes and lean forward. “Étienne.”He takes my hands into his.Those perfect hands, that fit mine just so. “Anna?”Our foreheads touch. “Yes?”“Will you please tell me you love me? I’m dying here.”And then we’re laughing. And then I’m in his arms, and we’re kissing, at first quickly—to make up for lost time—and then slowly, because we have allthe time in the world. And his lips are soft and honey sweet, and the careful, passionate way he moves them against my own says that he savors the way Itaste, too.And in between kisses, I tell him I love him.Again and again and again.”

“I slide my hand between our mouths, just in time. His lipsare soft against my palm. I slowly, slowly remove it. “No, Idon’t love Max anymore. But I don’t want to give you thisbroken, empty me. I want you to have me when I’m full,when I can give something back to you. I don’t have much togive right now.”Cricket’s limbs are still, but his chest is pounding hardagainst my own. “But you’ll want me someday? That feelingyou once had for me … that hasn’t left either?”Our hearts beat the same wild rhythm. They’re playing thesame song.“It never left,” I say.”

“I'm speechless.I think at the rooftops of Paris.he touches my cheek,pulling my gaze back to him.I suck in my breath."Anna.I'm sorry for what happened in Luxembourg Gardens.Not because of the kiss-I've never had a kiss like that in my life-but because I didn't tell you why I was running away.I chased after Meredith because of you."Touch me again. Please,touch me again."All I could think about was what that bastard did to you last Christmas. Toph never tried to explain or apologize. How could I do that to Mer? And I ought to have called you before I went to Ellie's,but I was so anxious to just end it,once and for all,that I wasn't thinking straight."I reach for him. "St. Clair-"He pulls back. "And that.Why don't you call me Etienne anymore?""But...no one else calls you that.It was weird.Right?""No.It wasn't." His expression saddens. "And every time you say 'St. Clair,' it's like you're rejecting me again.""I have never rejected you.""But you have.And for Dave." His tone is venomous."And you rejected me for Ellie on my birthday. I don't understand.If you liked me so much,why didn't you break up with her?"He gazes at the river. "I've been confused. I've been so stupid.""Yes.You have.""I deserve that.""Yes.You do." I pause. "But I've been stupid,too.You were right.About...the alone thing.”

“No, I don't love Max anymore. But I don't want to give you this broken, empty me. I want you to have me when I'm full, when I can give something back to you. I don't have much to give right now.”