“Yes, it’s our prized possession.”
Something flickers across her eyes when I say that, like a spark of hope. I’m not sure what’s on her mind, but honestly, with her naked in my place, it’s pretty hard for me to think straight. She spots a framed photo on my bureau of Ethan and me after the race we ran. Her eyes widen and she points. “Your brother was good-looking.”
“You’re not allowed to say that,” I say in mock seriousness as I pull her onto the mattress.
“Oh, c’mon. You two must have been lady-killers.”
“Wait. So you were stark raving mad at me on the street earlier today about item number two on his list, and now you want to know if we were tomcats together?”
She swats me. “I did not get mad at you, and I definitely did not turn stark raving mad. Plus, if memory serves, you kissed me right after you told me, so I guess your plan to make me jealous worked.”
“Will it work again? I’m not above doing whatever it takes to get these lips on mine.”
She shrugs impishly. “You’ll have to try harder. First, tell me something I don’t know about you.”
I lean back into the pillows, tucking my hands behind my head. “I love lunch. Like, fucking adore it.”
She laughs. “Everyone loves lunch.”
“No, seriously. That’s not true. People love breakfast or people love dinner. Lunch is the most underrated meal in the world, and I love it madly, and deeply, and truly.”
She drags her hands through her hair, still tangled up from me. “My sister and I used to sneak out for lunch when we could.”
“Sneak out?”
“That’s what we called it at least. Mostly we just met for lunch at In-N-Out Burger.”
I raise an eyebrow. “What’s that?”
“Seriously? What’s that? You don’t know?”
I shake my head. “I presume it’s a burger joint?”
“It’s only the greatest burger joint in all the land. From coast to coast. Sea to shining sea. They also have great milkshakes. Someday, you’ll go to the States and you’ll understand the joys of In-N-Out Burger.”
“Someday I will,” I tell her, then we talk more, as moonlight filters across the sheets. She tells me about Allison, and I tell her more about Ethan. Even though only one of them is alive, somehow the conversation doesn’t hurt quite as much as it would have a few months ago.
Maybe this is what it feels like to move through grief. You never truly get over the loss of someone you love. But you get by, you get through, you get around.
That’s why I don’t say anything tonight about what comes next for me. Sometimes, you just want things to go perfectly. And they do for the rest of the evening. Because we can’t keep our hands off each other, and soon enough we’re not talking about family. We’re talking about each other.
I prop my head in my hand. “You know we’re seeing each other tomorrow, right?”
“At work?”
“And after.”
“For language lessons?”
“And for this,” I say, running a hand down her hip.
“Presumptuous much?”
“Woman, I have orgasms to give you. Don’t deny me.”
She tugs me close. “Say it in French.”
And I do, whispering dirty, filthy things in her ear, as I move her under me, and slide into her again. “Je te veux tellement.”
I want you so much.
She moans.
“Say it to me,” I command.
She repeats my words. “Je te veux tellement.”
“Now tell me to fuck you hard. I know you know this one.”
Her back bows as she murmurs, “Baise-moi fort.”
I bring her to the edge again, telling her, “Jouis avec moi.”
Come with me.
Soon, she does, as the moon shines and Paris sleeps, as we’re entwined together at last.
23
Joy
One of the things I love most about being a modern woman is we know we can have it all. The job, the family, the kids, the love affair, the great sex.
I don’t have kids, obviously. But I’d like to think I’m winning on a few of those other points right now. After finishing up in the lab, I grab my phone and tap out a message to my sister.
Joy: True/False. It’s possible to have your cake and eat it, too.
Allison: I’ve never understood that saying. Isn’t having it and eating it the same dang thing?
Joy: You know what I’m saying. Do you believe we can truly have it all?
Allison: Absolutely. But having it all isn’t free, sister. :)
Joy: What’s the cost?
Allison: Usually money. Usually you can only have it all if you’re rich. But sometimes you can if you’re really lucky.
I wonder if I could be one of those lucky women. When I leave the office on Friday evening, it feels that way. The job is going well. L’Artisan is thrilled with the work I’ve been doing, and I feel as if I’m entering a whole new level of success on the job front. Finally, I’m able to move up and use all my skills. I’m at a place where I can thrive and uncover new opportunities.
Then there’s this city.
I walk down the boulevard, threading my way past buildings that have witnessed centuries of lives and battles and loves, past shops that peddle mouthwatering treats, past people who experience the world in a different way than I did mere months ago. The most romantic city on earth is starting to feel like my home.
Plus, I’m learning a new language. My tongue forms words and sentences that I’d never have crafted before.
Then, there’s the man I’m meeting tonight.
The man I’m head over Jimmy Choos for.
I didn’t come to Paris to fall in love, but Paris had other plans for me.
After I shower, dry my hair, and slip into a sapphire-blue dress that hugs my curves, I toss a wide scarf over my shoulders. I consider the options on my mirrored tray, then go for the caramel and white musk notes in Candy by Prada, spritzing on a tiny amount.
I head to Montmartre.
Griffin waits for me outside Moulin Rouge, the
