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Chapter Two

“Do you have any of those fashion magazines lying around?” Lucas asked Lacey when they were alone in the kitchen.

He’d excused himself from Willa and Lorna so he could follow Lacey inside. He wanted to see for himself that Willa O’Connor was truly a fashion model. Not that he doubted it. She was the perfect example of high fashion. He wanted to be able to stare at her without anyone noticing, and he figured finding a glossy picture of her in a magazine would do the trick until he could figure out how to be around her twenty-four hours a day and still get his work done.

Lacey shot her brother a quizzical look, then grinned. “I see you’ve met Willa.”

Lucas nodded, grabbed a fresh sweet-potato roll, then chewed thoughtfully before answering. “I didn’t just meet her. I saw her standing in the morning mist on the banks of the bayou and lost my heart to her forever.”

Lacey nodded, then went right on placing fresh fruit on a tray for the breakfast guests gathered on the back gallery. “Uh-huh. How many times have I heard you say something such as that, only to find some poor brokenhearted woman at church the next Sunday, glaring at you across the pew because you suddenly found you wanted to keep your fickle heart intact, after all?”

“Ouch, that hurts. You’re cruel, Lacey, love. Very cruel.”

“And you wouldn’t know real love if it bit you on your adorable nose,” his older sister countered as she headed out the open French doors. Then she turned to face him, all seriousness and as prim and proper as ever in her pearls and lace. “Lucas, be careful with this one, will you please? From what Lorna’s told me, Willa O’Connor is dealing with some major issues right now. She doesn’t need you pestering her with one of your obsessive but rather short-lived infatuations.”

Lucas didn’t answer her. He stood, leaning against the counter, his eyes scanning the small crowd to make sure the object of this discussion was still chatting with Lorna and Mick. And wondered what issues lay behind Willa’s incredible blue-eyed million-dollar smile.

But Lacey wasn’t finished. “Besides, I don’t think Willa is the type to fall for your irresistible charms. She’s way too smart for the likes of you. She went to school at some fancy college up north, graduated with honors.”

Leave it to Lacey to drop a zinger like that with a sweet, serene smile plastered across her classic face. Lucas let out an aggravated sigh as he watched his sister play hostess with all the ingrained manners of a true Southern lady. And wished he could do something really childish like put a lizard down her starched collar.

“Do you have a magazine?” he asked Rosie Lee Babineaux, their longtime housekeeper and cook, as she passed him on her way to the industrial-size refrigerator.

“Lucas, Lucas,” Rosie Lee replied, laughing so hard her shoulders shook. “You need to put your eyeballs back in your head, hein?”

“Am I that obvious?”

“You got the look,” Rosie Lee told him, wagging a finger at him, her Cajun accent twice as distinctive as his.

“And what look would that be, chère?”

“That Lucas look,” Rosie Lee explained, rolling her eyes. “The one you get whenever a pretty woman is anywhere within five miles of you.”

Lucas knew she was right. But, hey, he was having fun with it, so why couldn’t everyone lay off? “I just want to investigate things a bit further,” he explained. “Maybe hang a picture of her near my pillow, so I can gaze at her with adoration….”

Rosie Lee’s burst of laughter stopped him. She had to wipe her eyes, but she lifted a hand toward a set of swinging doors. “I think Em left a few fancy magazines in our sitting room. Go see.”

Lucas took off like a rocket, heading into the small family room tucked off the kitchen, a place where he’d spent many happy hours with the Babineaux clan since he’d arrived, nine years old and scared to death, at Bayou le Jardin. Falling across a worn plaid couch that had been salvaged and cleaned since the spring floods, he remembered feeling safe here in this little room that had at one time been servants’ quarters. He’d naturally blended right in with the six Babineaux children. To the point that they’d included him as one of their own—just like another son, even though he was a few years older than their four boys and two girls.

Glancing around, Lucas remembered Tobias Babineaux, or Big Tobbie, as everyone called him, teaching him all about the dark, mysterious swamp waters that ran behind the grounds of Bayou le Jardin. Tobbie had taken Lucas under his wing, teaching him how to hunt and fish and track, teaching him how to show respect to Mother Nature and how to stand up for what he believed in, teaching him how to survive.

And Lucas had drunk it all in, wanting very much to survive, but always, always challenging life in the midst of learning his lessons well.

A daredevil. That’s what they’d called him.

Reckless. Juvenile. Too full of life for his own good. That’s what he’d always heard about himself.

Too full of life. So full of life that he dared anyone or anything to change that fact.

Even God.

And because of that reckless, careless streak, Lucas had come close, so close to getting into serious trouble over the years, that he’d reached the point where everyone just left him to it—as if they’d all given up on changing him.

But that didn’t stop his loving sisters from reminding him on a daily basis of his shortcomings.

“Why start worrying about that now?” he said with a shrug as he looked around for the much-coveted magazine. Right now, he wouldn’t dwell on how lousy he’d felt since the spring night all those months ago when he’d left Lorna alone in the mansion, in the dark.

He wouldn’t stop to think about what she must have suffered before Mick had found her there. And saved her from herself.

“It should have been me,” Lucas said as he reached into a cabinet and grabbed a handful of tattered fashion magazines.

But then again, Lucas knew in his heart it had to be Mick. Mick Love had fallen in love with his sister in spite of her fears and her self-doubts. And Lucas had accepted that, welcomed it. It was only fitting that Mick be the one to come to Lorna’s aid, to bring her such strength in her faith and herself again. But still…Lucas couldn’t get past that night.

And the promise he had made to his sisters so long ago, on another dark, storm-tossed night.

“Did you find it?”

Lucas looked up to see Rosie Lee’s round, olive-skinned face smiling at him, her long black, silver-streaked braid swinging over one shoulder. “Did you find what you were looking for?” she asked, a teasing light in her dark eyes.

“I hope so,” Lucas said, winking at her as he made a point of lazily flipping through the pages of a thick magazine. Then more to himself than her, he repeated his wish. “I certainly hope so.”

“So, now you’ve heard all the news about us,” Lorna said to Willa. “It’s your turn.”

Willa sank back against the soft floral cushions of her chair, a fork in one hand while she pretended to eat more breakfast. True, she had managed to down some fresh strawberries and cantaloupe and a freshly baked, grain-rich roll. But she couldn’t force herself to eat anything more, in spite of her friend’s best efforts.

Hoping to keep the focus of the conversation off herself, Willa glanced across the table at Lorna and Mick. “Even though I missed your wedding because of that shoot in Spain, I’m so happy for both of you. Surviving a tornado and then a flood, only to find each other…that’s a remarkable story.”

Lorna looked at her husband. “Yes, very remarkable, considering how I resisted Mick from the first day.”

“But it was love at first sight for me, I think,” Mick replied, his hand reaching for his wife. “We’ve been through a lot together, that’s for sure. My whole life changed once I set foot on this old plantation.”

Willa was amazed that Mick Love had been willing to pick up and move to be with the woman he loved. She’d never known a man with that type of commitment, a man willing to give up everything, change his whole lifestyle because of being in love. Her mother had done that all these years, followed the man she loved, but Willa had to wonder, if it were the other way around, would her father have done the same? She doubted it, so she had to question Mick further. “And you didn’t mind—moving here, relocating your business?”

“Why should I?” Mick said, his hand trailing through Lorna’s hair. “I didn’t really have anything to lose. Business is better than ever, I’ve got a wonderful wife to come home to each night, and hey, my best friend even relocated here with me and married the woman of his dreams, too. He’s training to be a fireman.”

“It must be the coffee,” Willa said, laughing. Maybe that would explain why she kept looking for Lucas to come to the table. He’d hopped up a few minutes ago, excused himself with a flourish, then disappeared inside the kitchen. And why did she care?

“There is something about Bayou le Jardin,” Mick agreed, finishing his brew. “It…can heal all wounds.”

Lorna nodded. “Aunt Hilda—you met her earlier, before she headed off to work—firmly believes that we are all closer to Christ here in this garden. She takes her troubles to Him and she’s taught us to do the same.”

Mick shrugged. “But it took a tornado and a flood for me to understand that concept.”

“You really believe that?” Willa asked, wishing with all her heart that Mick was right. She needed to be healed, both physically and spiritually. “That God somehow had a hand in bringing you here?”

Mick got up, looked at Lorna, then nodded. “Oh, yeah. I’m a believer now.” With that, he kissed his wife. “And…I’ve gotta get to work. Justin needs some help with a little pruning, then I have to ride into Kenner to do an estimate on that remodeling work we’ve been discussing.” He lifted a hand. “We’re still trying to get this place back the way it was before the storms. And that is going to take some doing, considering we still have some water damage.” He touched Lorna’s hair again. “I probably won’t be back in my office in town for a few hours, so I’ll see you later this afternoon, okay?”

“Okay,” Lorna replied, her gaze filled with love as she kissed her husband. “Don’t work too hard.”

Mick grinned, then waved to Willa. “Hope you enjoy your stay.”

“Thank you,” Willa told him. After he left, she sighed long and hard. “Lorna, he’s…”

“Perfect?” Lorna asked, her expression dreamy and serene. “Mick has helped me in more ways than I ever dreamed possible. He’s brought me peace, made me feel secure, helped me get over my fear of the dark. He still has to travel a good bit, but I’m okay with that—it’s part of his job. And sometimes I take off and head out with him.”

“I’m so glad,” Willa told her, meaning it. “I envy you.”

“Don’t,” Lorna replied, concern bringing a frown to her face. “You can find happiness, too, Willa. I know it. I believe that now—I didn’t believe in happily ever after before.”

“But you’re in love, married to the perfect man. That tends to change one’s perspective on these things.”

“Actually, Mick is far from perfect, but he’s a good, decent man and…just like Mick, I truly believe God brought us together here in this old garden.”

Willa was much too cynical and jaded to believe that. She’d seen too many broken relationships, been a part of too many herself, to ever believe there was such a thing as a lifetime love between two destined people. Fate was way too fickle for that to happen.

Then she looked up to find Lucas Dorsette leaning against a rounded white column, his eyes centered on her, his expression a mixture of curious charm and conquering hero. He gave her a soul-searing smile, then lowered his head, appearing to be completely engrossed in a magazine.

“What’s the story with your adorable brother?” she asked Lorna. “Does he break hearts by the week, or only on a monthly installment?”

Lorna shot her hovering brother a long look. “Oh, Lucas breaks hearts on a daily basis. I think every single woman at church has tried to win him over to matrimony, but our Lucas is a sly one. He can see them coming a mile away, so he flirts with them, teases them, makes them think they are the only one, and then he moves on. He treats women like flowers, picking them and enjoying them until they wilt away, then he discards them for another fresh bloom.”

Willa studied Lucas, glad she was immune to charming, shallow men, but somehow disappointed to hear that Lucas might be that way. “You certainly don’t paint him in a very pretty light.”

“Just being honest with you,” Lorna replied. “Lucas is a wonderful person, the best brother in the world, and I love him dearly. But…he doesn’t take life very seriously.”

“Maybe we could all learn a lesson from that,” Willa replied, thinking she took everything far too seriously for her own good. Which was why she was in such turmoil right now.

Lorna nodded. “As long as you remember, with Lucas, it’s all a big game. Enjoy it while you’re here, Willa, but just be forewarned. My brother will never settle down.”

Willa groaned, then shrugged. “I’m not looking to settle down. You of all people should know I’m not here looking for love, and I certainly have no intention of trying to snare your elusive brother.”

Lorna reached out a hand to her. “I know. You need to find some peace and quiet, and you really need to rest…and take care of yourself. We can’t forget your reasons for coming here. I just don’t want my beautiful brother interfering with that process.”

“Why can’t I be part of the process?” Lucas said from behind them, making both of them jump.

Willa sat bolt upright. She’d only looked away for a minute. How had he moved so quickly and so quietly?

Another thing to remember about Lucas Dorsette, she supposed.

Lorna didn’t bat an eye as she got up. “You can be a lot of things while Willa is here,” she told her brother. “A companion, a tour guide, a security guard. But Willa needs to—”

“I know, I know,” he interrupted, holding up a hand. “Willa needs her rest. Willa needs to be left alone. Willa needs to know that Lucas is walking trouble and not worth a minute of her time. Did I leave anything out?”

Lorna reached out a hand to touch his face. “That just about covers it.” Then she kissed him on the cheek. “I know I can trust you, so be nice.”

Lucas grabbed his sister’s hand, his gaze changing with mercurial speed from teasing to intense. “Do you know that, really? Can I be trusted?”

Lorna tightened her hand in his. “Yes, you can. I’ve always trusted you, Lucas. And I know what you’re thinking. But…I’m fine. I’m great. Mick is taking good care of me, and we’re very happy. So stop worrying.”

Confused by the exchange, Willa felt uncomfortable. As if she’d stepped into an intimate setting where she didn’t belong. But then, she’d never been so close to another person that she could share a sort of language, the way Lorna and Lucas seemed to talk to each other. Almost in riddles, but they both seemed to understand each other exactly.

She’d noticed that about them, and Lacey, too. She knew they’d survived a terrible horror only to grow up secure in their faith and to become closer as a family. Sharing that kind of bond had held them together, but as Lorna had told her months ago when she’d called Willa to invite her to the wedding, perhaps that bond had also held them captive.

And yet, Willa wished she’d had some sort of bond to make her closer to her parents. They’d never really been a family, the three of them. They’d coexisted in a big, rambling house. That is, whenever they were there together.

Family. The word always made Willa flinch. Oh, she had a family. A mother and father who adored her but who also wanted to control her. But she’d never really felt loved, for some strange reason. Not in the way Lorna seemed loved, at least.

She envied her friend. And longed to get to know the intriguing Lucas Dorsette.

“Me, worry?” Lucas shrugged and lifted his dark brows, bringing Willa’s thoughts to the present. “Never.”

“I have to get to the restaurant and start things for the lunch crowd,” Lorna said to Willa. “Will you be okay?”

“I think I’m going to wander around in the gardens,” Willa told her, intensely aware that Lucas was watching her. “Maybe finally read that thick romance novel I’ve been carting around for months now.”

“We’re still recovering from the flood,” Lucas said, his hand lifting in an arc. “But I’d be happy to show you some of the more beautiful spots.”

“That sounds nice.” She glanced at Lorna, saw no censure in her friend’s eyes and breathed a sigh of relief.

She’d been warned about Lucas Dorsette too many times to care. She didn’t understand why his sisters seemed so concerned that he’d break her heart. She’d turned down suitors from all over the world, after all. Playboys, a prince or two, politicians, they’d all courted her and some had tried to corrupt her. But luckily, the one thing her distant, worldly parents had instilled in her was a sense of caution and integrity—an O’Connor could never bring shame or scandal to the family honor. It simply wasn’t permitted.

And because Ambassador Eugene O’Connor and his lovely wife, Candace, had frowned on their daughter’s choice of careers, Willa had at least tried to stay out of trouble and stay away from the many temptations lurking in the world of high fashion.

Would her parents approve of Lucas Dorsette? Hardly. But she was only going to be here for a short time, and her parents were far away, traveling yet again. Willa was an adult, after all. She could take care of herself; she’d been doing it for most of her life. So she wasn’t afraid of spending a few mindless days with Lucas Dorsette.

He seemed harmless enough.

As long as they both kept their perspective, of course. As long as she remembered Lucas liked to keep things light.

Well, so did she.

She wouldn’t let the legendary gardens of Bayou le Jardin mess with her head.

And she wouldn’t let the legendary Lucas Dorsette mess with her heart.

But when he took her hand and pulled her down a cool, shaded path dripping with ancient hot-pink crape myrtle trees, Willa had a feeling it was already too late to turn back.

Chapter Three

He was taking her off the beaten path.

“Where are we going?” Willa asked Lucas as they moved away from the house and closer to the bayou.

Here the vegetation grew more lush, green and rich, thriving in spite of the summer heat. The smell of wet earth and brackish water mingled with the scent of honeysuckle and wild-blooming jasmine. The mid-morning sun played a game of chance as it tried to pierce the cool shadows cast by the tall, moss-draped cypress trees.

“You’ll see,” he told her, his hand in hers as he pulled her down the winding path.

“At least it’s cooler here.”

“One of the many beautiful things about Bayou le Jardin. There’s plenty of cool spots, even in the middle of summer. And I happen to know where they all are.”

Willa noticed the creepers surrounding the narrowing path—the English ivy that grew wild and free, the ancient camellia bushes and sweet-smelling lilies. She could hear bees buzzing hungrily in the dense garden. She could hear a child’s laughter ringing out from the house. Probably that cute little Tobias—the little boy Lucas had rescued during the flood.

Lorna had told her all about that, too. And how Lucas had berated himself for not getting back to the mansion to help Lorna, who had been deathly afraid of the dark, after the electricity had gone off and left Lorna stranded alone in the dark and the flood. Lorna explained that Lucas blamed himself, but no one else saw it that way. He’d saved a child’s life. That had to count for something.

She watched his face, wondering what lay behind that square jaw and those lush, full lips. And those dark, mysterious eyes.

The agencies in New York would love a portfolio of pictures of Lucas Dorsette, she figured. His face rivaled those of any of the overpaid male models she knew and worked with on a daily basis. But Lucas had one trait that many of her co-workers didn’t possess. He looked completely real, completely male. Not prettied up for the cameras.

And he looked very dangerous.

“I suppose the other guests don’t know about this path,” she said, hoping Lucas would tell her where he was taking her.

She wasn’t afraid of being alone with him, but she had this thing about always knowing about what might lie ahead. No surprises. No room for any mistakes.

“Non. I keep this one to myself.”

“Is it special?”

“I think it is.”

So, he was going to be tight-mouthed about this. Willa watched him as he moved in front of her, his feet steady and sure, his steps silent. With his dark good looks and intense concentration, he reminded her of some ancient warrior stalking through a jungle.

Was she his quarry, then?

“Lucas, where are we going?”

He stopped, whirled to stare at her.

His nearness confused her, enticed her, made her want to turn and go back to civilization. Or give up being civilized altogether.

“Are you all right? Tired?”

“I’m fine, just wondering what you’re doing.”

“I’m taking you to one of my favorite spots.”

“Okay.”

She decided to stay quiet. He took her hand, guiding her through hanging vines and wild dogwood trees. They moved downward, toward the marsh, then up until they were on a grassy little incline.

“Look,” he said, pointing.

Willa followed the direction of his gaze, then laughed. “Oh, my. Well, this was certainly worth the trip.”

He’d brought her to a pagoda sitting on top of a moss-covered mound. The pagoda was rustic and ancient, but the wood and stone blending together on the high walls looked solid, and the shingled, slanted roof seemed to be holding up. Or at least, the English ivy was holding the building together. It covered the entire structure and ran down over the mossy rocks that formed the walls of what looked like a walk-through grotto.

A playful morning breeze rustled the nearby tupelo trees, bringing with it the tinkling sound of bells. The almost melancholy melody seemed to be coming from inside the pagoda.

“Chimes,” Lucas told her, his keen gaze centering on her face. “I like chimes.”

“It’s beautiful,” she said, her breath coming hard and heavy, whether from the long walk or the sheer beauty of this place, she couldn’t say. “So this is your secret garden?”

“You could call it that,” Lucas told her as he led her up a narrow stone footpath toward the rectangular structure. “Aunt Hilda discovered it in her younger years, when she could get around more. She showed it to me when I first came here.” He smiled, then closed his eyes. “I can still remember what she told me. She said, ‘Now, Lucas, most would tell you that this is a temple, a shrine. But we only have one temple—and that is our little chapel where we worship the Lord. This is not a place of worship, but it can be a place of retreat, if you ever need it. God will hear you here in this place, if you need to get away and talk to Him.’”

“She sounds like a fascinating, wise woman.”

He opened his eyes, gave Willa one of those heart-stopping looks. “She is. She’s traveled all over the world, seen all sorts of shrines and temples, cathedrals and churches, but she loves the Chapel in the Garden more than anything she’s ever seen. And that’s where she expects us to be each Sunday.”

Willa thought that was quaint and sweet and again felt that distant tug of longing in her own heart. “And yet, you come here sometimes, to find your peace, talk to God?”

He nodded. “No one else bothers with this place. Not even Justin, our landscaper. I try to keep the swamp from taking it over completely.”

“So you weed it and clear it out, prune the bramble and sweep away the spiders and snakes?” She hoped.

He nodded, as silent as the still, waiting wind and trees. Then he said, “I don’t like spiders and snakes, but I respect them. If I find any, I usually send them in the other direction.”

Somewhat comforted, she asked, “Even the poisonous ones?”

“Even those, unless of course they attack first. Then I don’t ask any questions.”

Willa imagined that was probably how he handled life, too. Since he seemed used to being attacked a lot, based on what Lorna had told her.

She could envision him standing here, the hunter in him alert and wary, willing to kill to survive. But she could also see him bending to nudge an innocent creature in the right direction so he wouldn’t be forced to harm it. It was that image, rather than the more macho one of him as a hunter and a scrapper, that endeared him to her.

“Well, you’ve done a good job. It looks well-kept and completely snake free,” she told him, her gaze taking in the antique sundial centered near the entryway. “But I have to admit, this place looks a little lost and sad.”

“It is,” he replied. “It was once a garden spot, centuries ago. It wasn’t part of our land then, but the family that owned the neighboring plantation suffered through a yellow fever epidemic, probably brought here from New Orleans. The landowner lost his entire family—his wife, his son and daughter—they all died. He let the place go to ruin during the Civil War, then he died many years later, a lonely, reclusive old man. I’m not sure how my family wound up owning the land—Lacey could tell you all about that—” He stopped, looked at the winding stream that flowed from the Mississippi River to the bayou from the other side of the small, slanting hill. “The story goes that he used to come here and grieve his loss in this hushed, decaying garden. I come here when I’m feeling lost and sad myself. Sometimes I get in that kind of mood. Aunt Hilda says, c’est l’heure solennelle.”

“The solemn hour.” Willa knew enough French to translate what he’d told her. And wondered why he’d brought her here. Did Lucas sense that she was sad and lost underneath all her fame and fortune?

Just the thought that he might, coupled with the tragic tale he’d told her, brought tears to her eyes. But she quickly dashed them away, not willing to explore the underlying turmoil of her problems right now. She didn’t want pity, refused to wallow in self-doubt and despair.

And yet, this place seemed to be beckoning her to do just that. Or maybe it was telling her to let go and let her inner torment boil to the surface in a cleansing purge. So she could get on with her life. If she had a life to get on with, that is.

Wanting to change her somber thoughts, Willa said, “You don’t strike me as the type to wander around moping. From everything Lorna has told me and from what I’ve seen of you, I wouldn’t have imagined you’d have such a place, so beautiful yet so melancholy, tucked away from the world.”

He looked at her, his dark eyes locked on hers in a heated black gaze, his secrets as tangled and overgrown as the swamp around them. “’The beauty remains; the pain passes.’”

“What a lovely thing to say.”

“You can thank Renoir for that one,” he told her, looking away briefly.

“The painter?”

“The very one. He knew a thing or two about pain.”

“And it sounds as if you know a thing or two about art,” she replied, her opinion of him rapidly changing.

“I know enough to get by. But then, that’s how I am about most things in life—whatever it takes to get by.” He shifted, ran a hand over his long, curly bangs. “But I didn’t bring you here to get you down or talk about art.”

She wanted to ask him exactly why he had brought her here, but then the smile was back, taking her breath up and away. The tiny bells hanging on a silvery chain just inside the open pagoda door tinkled and laughed along with him, but to Willa, the sound changed in the wind.

It almost sounded like weeping.

“Well, this is a strange and mysterious place,” she said, her voice low. “Do you come here a lot?”

“Depends,” he said, pulling her into the cool darkness of the rustic structure. “Look over that way.” He pointed through one of the open windows toward the path they’d traveled.

Through a gap in the trees and brush, Willa saw the mansion. From this spot atop the small mound, Bayou le Jardin could be seen in all its splendor just to the west. The great evergreen oaks and ever-changing gardens cascaded from the house like colorful lace on a belle’s ball gown, while the mansion stood brilliant and sparkling with its Doric columns and classic Greek Revival design.

“How lovely.”

“Oui. I like to come here and look back at it. I’m close enough to watch over things, but far enough away that I can’t be bothered if I don’t want to be found.”

If I don’t want to be found.

Willa watched him, knowing that there was much more to Lucas Dorsette than he wanted the world to see. He was witty, flirty, a charmer, no doubt. But there was a serious side to him that she could see clearly, in spite of the shaded, secluded garden where he’d brought her. Or maybe because of it.

“Do you bring all your conquests here?” she asked, smiling at him.

“Actually, you’re the first,” Lucas told her, his mood as dark and hard to see into as the swamp below them. “Conquest, that is.”

And that’s when Willa knew she was treading on very dangerous ground. Lorna had warned her about Lucas’s lighthearted, carefree nature.

But her friend had failed to warn her about the other qualities that made up Lucas Dorsette. He was obviously a very complex, interesting man. A man who had a deeper, more spiritual side that he hid from the world with a nonchalant shrug and a breathtaking smile.