A Winter Symphony: A Christmas Novella by Tiffany Reisz

Author:Tiffany Reisz [Reisz, Tiffany]
Language: eng
Format: epub

Chapter Thirteen

At noon they boarded a streetcar—not named Desire, sadly—for a tour of the Garden District. Kingsley had been to New Orleans before. Mardi Gras, years ago. His memory of the city was only of its nightlife. He had stayed out until dawn, returned to his hotel, and slept all day before going out again in the evening. Other than the parties and the parade, he hadn’t seen much of the city. He certainly hadn’t done any daylight tourist activities. Not his style. But Juliette loved looking at old houses—she had a Gothic streak in her bones a mile wide—and what made her happy made him happy.

Shamelessly, Juliette took photo after photo with her phone, like every other tourist on the streetcar. When the tour guide, speaking in an almost-impenetrable Cajun accent, pointed out Anne Rice’s old house, Juliette took a dozen photos of it and immediately texted them to Nora.

“She would love it here,” Juliette said. Kingsley had to agree. Mistress Nora would do well in a city known as The Big Easy. Art. Literature. Sin. Booze. What more could a porno-writing Catholic dominatrix want? Maybe they would come back next autumn, all of them together for one last hurrah before he and Juliette decamped to St. Bart’s.

“Are you sure we have to leave Sunday?” Juliette asked as they turned a corner, and the streetcar eased slowly down a street so dense with ancient oaks that they blocked the sun.

“We could try to get a hotel and stay another week, if you like.”

“You probably have too much to do back home.”

“If you want to stay, we’ll stay,” he said.

She smiled, almost wistfully, and put her hand over her belly. “We have a doctor’s appointment on Tuesday. I shouldn’t miss it.”

“We can come back after.” He put his arm around her shoulders. She nestled in closer to him…for about two seconds, before she decided she needed to hang out the side of the streetcar to take more photos. “I know you’re not looking forward to another winter in New York.”

“Who would be?” she said without turning.

“What would you say if I told you we only had to stay there one more winter?”

Slowly, she lowered her phone and ducked back into the streetcar, a dozen beautiful old houses sliding by unseen, forgotten.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“I mean…I want us to move away, start over somewhere safer. Warmer.”

They had taken their seats near the back so they could speak without interrupting the other tourists. He was glad now that they had a little privacy. Juliette covered her mouth with her hand and glanced away.

“It’ll be for the best,” he said. “I was thinking St. Bart’s. Safe, beautiful. Our children will grow up speaking French. We’ll get a villa there. No more winters.”

She turned around and looked at him. “You can’t mean it.” She lowered her voice and added, “What about Søren?”

“He knows.”

Her lovely dark eyes widened. “You already told him?”

“I already told him,” he said. “A few weeks ago. It’s done. Call it a fait accompli.

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