Fabien was about to kiss her again when the sound of a clearing throat alerted them to the fact that they had an audience. They glanced up, registering the circle of very curious art lovers surrounding them. Willow stepped forward, one eyebrow raised.“I think the Americans have a phrase for this, if I’m not mistaken?” she said. “Get a room? Am I right?”“Not a room… but a house. I’m taking my woman home with me. I’m taking her where she belongs…” Fabien threw back his head and laughed. It was the best sound Blaze had ever heard in her life, but suddenly tears were squeezing from beneath her eyelids and running down her face. Fabien’s smile faded and he reached out to cup her cheek.“Chérie, what’s wrong? Please, don’t cry,” he said slowly.“I’m so sorry, Fab…” she whispered. “I’m so sorry for not understanding sooner. For not seeing. All those times I climbed into your bed. All those times I bitched to you about my boyfriends… While you… You…”