The Consequence (The Evolution of Sin 3)

Paris at Christmas was a revelation. The dark latticework of naked trees lining the narrow streets and broad promenades were ribboned with tiny lights, lampposts boasted large red bows and every storefront was tastefully rearranged according to a different holiday theme. Elegantly dressed Parisians walked leisurely through the city, stopping into lesser-known chocolate shops to seek out chocolat chaud and Christmas confections between last minute gift shopping.

The lavishly decorated Christmas tree that dominated Notre Dame Cathedral’s main plaza drew tourists and locals alike, especially as they had canceled the installation last Christmas due to the November terrorist attacks. People had placed flowers beneath the tree like presents to those who had passed away but the atmosphere was jovial nonetheless, the air filled with laughter and ample cries of Joyeux Noël.

It was a gorgeous place to spend Christmas Eve but I couldn’t shake the melancholy that had stalked me the last few days. It made me feel ungrateful to feel this way, especially when the love of my life was beside me, currently holding my gloved hand. He had sensed my mood, of course, and taken the last few days off of work in order to throw himself into entertaining me. We ice skated at the Trocodero, ate at all my favorite haunts, even the cheap café under Place de Madeleine, and now we were simply walking the crowded streets on our way from meeting Candy and Cage for drinks.

“You are unhappy,” Sinclair noted.

I bit my lip, unwilling to spoil our beautiful day with my stupid, self-indulgent thoughts. “Just thoughtful.”

His eyes narrowed. “You know how much your thoughts are worth to me. Please, tell me.”

“As happy as I am here with you, I still feel restless. Unresolved.”

He nodded. “That’s understandable. Even though we are finally together, this a dream world, one where we don’t have to reap the consequences of our actions.”

I bit my lip. “Well, I am feeling one of them. I miss my family and the worst part is that I know this feeling won’t go away anytime soon because when I see them again I’ll have to tell them about us and then they will deliberately go away.”

Sinclair pressed my hand between his. The gesture reminded me of the way one preserved a flower between the pages of a book and I knew it meant that he wanted desperately to conserve my relationship with my family, at least with Mama and the twins.

“You don’t know how they will react. They might be supportive.”

“Honestly, I think the twins know already. At least, Cosima.”

“Oh?” Sinclair asked though there was sharpness in his eyes that said he wasn’t that surprised. “She does know both of us well enough to sense something amiss.”

“Well, I’ve definitely been distracted but I can’t see you giving yourself away. Obviously, I didn’t know you before but you seemed to act the same.”

“I was happy, Elle, incandescently so. That was a change that everyone noticed.”

I sucked in a deep breath between my teeth, surprised by his words but more surprised by the impact they had on me. When would I get used to the fact that Sinclair had always wanted me? That maybe he always would?

“Do you miss her?” I asked. “I’m not trying to trap you, I’m honestly just wondering. It’s only natural after spending so much time with a person that you would miss them.”

Even though I said the words, and a large part of me meant them, there was still an echo in my chest that urged me to compare myself to Elena. I resisted, drawing on the strength of Sin’s hand in mine in order to do it.

“I do and I do not,” he admitted. “I miss talking to her because she was smart and curious about the world, a great conversationalist. I think our favorite times together were spent reading the Sunday New York Times; hashing out the events of the week and doing the crossword puzzle.”

I felt a pang but not a large one. Sinclair and I didn’t read the paper together like that but we would establish our own routines, and we had countless topics to talk about it.

“I do not miss how savage she made me feel for wanting to tug her hair or talk dirty to her. She made me ashamed of an essential part of myself. More than that, I don’t miss the life we lived together, stuck in these strict routines and bound by everyone else’s rules, including my parents. That is not what any relationship should be about. So, mostly, no, I do not miss her.”

He slid a thumb down the line of my jaw and pinched my chin to tilt it up so I was looking him in the eye. “Do you?”

I shook my head before I could even process his question logically. “No, I never had much of her to miss.”