I wanted to tell him what had happened, and if I was having a last hurrah with anyone I was leaving at home, I wanted it to be him. He was in his bedroom talking to a man I didn’t know. The man was in a regular brown business suit with a clipboard and a pen in his hands. At first glance Jean-Claude seemed to be in a white button-up business shirt and black slacks, except that the slacks fit well enough and tight enough to his body to fit seamlessly into knee-high black boots. He held his hand out to me with a smile. “Ma petite, I have organized a temporary bed until the custom mattress can be remade and shipped to us.” I took his hand in mine and let him draw me in against his body so that we could kiss. I went up on tiptoe, my free hand steadying me against his stomach, which gave me an excuse to pet down the line of buttons on his shirt. The buttons were covered in platinum and sapphires almost as dark as his eyes, so that the jewels looked bright blue one moment and black the next.
