One To Watch(90)

Bea shot Sam a dramatic look behind their tour guide’s back, and he laughed and kissed her; ever since he’d told her he loved her, his energy was even more buoyant than usual.

At the end of the tour, they visited the house tasting room, where everything was furnished and painted in lustrous shades of gold. Bea and Sam sipped coupes of grand vintage champagne, those special bottles created when the vintner deemed it a particularly good harvest, as opposed to the house’s usual bottles, which were blended from two years’ worth of grapes to create a consistent taste from year to year. The sommelier was exuberant—they chatted about their favorite wines and Bea fell in love with a coppery rosé champagne with a lovely dryness; he gifted her with a bottle to bring back to her hotel.

“Or perhaps you two will share it?” He smiled knowingly at Bea and Sam.

“That’s up to her.” Sam kissed Bea’s cheek.

“We’ll see.” She tried for a playfully sexy tone, but the words came out as more of a high-strung squeak. Sam gave her hand a reassuring sort of pat.

After the tasting was done, it was off to their next activity: a sunset hot-air-balloon ride over the vine-covered hills of Champagne. Their balloon operator was a rotund, jovial, mustachioed fellow named Albert who wore a tan three-piece suit and a top hat, like he’d arrived for the tour by way of the turn of the twentieth century.

“This will be a beautiful tour, a spectacular tour, for two spectacular lovebirds!” He spread his arms grandly, waiting for Bea and Sam to mirror his excitement.

“I think I need to say something.” Sam looked a bit wan. “I don’t … feel terrific about heights?”

“Oh my God.” Bea shot the producers an accusatory stare. “Did you guys know this? Sam, I’m so sorry, we don’t have to do this.”

“No.” He shook his head. “No, this is our romantic adventure, and I’m not going to ruin it. You’re sure that thing is safe?”

He pointed to the balloon silhouetted in the distance, and Albert nodded vigorously.

“But of course, monsieur, the balloon is extraordinarily safe! You will see, it is as gentle and as graceful as a cloud.”

“A graceful cloud. Yeah. I can do that.” Sam sounded like he was psyching himself up.

“Are you sure?” Bea asked. “Really, we can skip it—just head back to the hotel and drink our wine.”

Sam nodded. “Let’s do this.”

“Alors, allons-y!” Albert cheered, and led them over to their balloon, which was absolutely gorgeous: It was made of nylon, but treated to look like old-fashioned canvas, ivory with a pattern of vines and flowers in tones of sepia and muted rose.

The fire was whooshing into the balloon’s opening, and Bea expected the launch to be filled with jerks and bumps, like an airplane taking off, but it wasn’t at all—when Albert’s support staff untied the ropes that had been tethering the balloon to the ground, they simply floated off into the air. Bea also assumed it would be loud, but it was nearly silent, just the sounds of the fire and the soft wind as they drifted past countless vineyards, where thousands of grapevines were showing their first hint of green.

“This is breathtaking,” Bea said reverently, not wanting to break the spell. She turned to Sam. “You doing okay?”

He nodded. “A graceful cloud.”

“That’s us,” Bea agreed.

“Maybe if you hugged me a little? Help steady me?”

“You’re shameless.” Bea laughed, but she nuzzled into his arms all the same, and it felt so good to hold him, the countryside spread below them like a picnic.

“So, what do you think?” Sam asked her.

“I think it’s amazing,” Bea replied.

“No, I was asking—what I said to you in New Jersey. We haven’t really talked about it.”

“Oh.” Bea looked up at him. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Was it too much? Too soon? I’ve been nervous.”

“No, not at all. In fact, I actually …”

“What?” Sam urged, tipping up Bea’s chin.

“I should tell you—God, this is embarrassing.” She felt her face flush.

“I’m a grown man afraid of a hot-air balloon, so whatever it is, I think I can handle it.”

Bea tried to smile, but her heart was suddenly pounding. “What you said to me, um. No one’s ever told me that before. In a romantic context.”

Sam frowned. “Are you serious?”

Bea nodded. “I know I’ve made a whole thing about how young you are, but sometimes I feel like I’m the young one.”

“Have you ever said it to anyone?”

Bea shook her head. “I haven’t.”

She’d wanted to say it to Ray—at least, she thought she had—but he’d never given her the chance.

“Okay.” Sam nodded, taking this in. “How did it make you feel to hear that I love you?”

“Exhilarated.” Bea smiled. “Really, really happy—and also terrified.”

“Sounds serious.” Sam was only half-joking. “Can you tell me why you felt scared?”

“I can try,” Bea said quietly, taking a moment to feel the sun on her face, the breeze in her hair, the strange steadiness of this good man standing beside her in the sky.