Gretchen: How was the flight?
Gretchen: ?????????????
Gretchen: I feel like I should have heard from you by now.Text me.
Gretchen: I tracked your flight.It said you landed.Girl, where are you?
Gretchen: Getting worried.It’s been a few hours.Are you held up at customs or something?
Gretchen: Suzy and I are about to go get on a plane.
Gretchen: Just joking.But if I don’t hear from you soon, it might come to that.Only half kidding this time.
My poor friend.I didn’t think she’d be this worried, but then again, it’s the first time I’ve traveled in a long while, and I’m alone.I quickly shoot off a message to Gretchen before she drags Suzy across the Atlantic in search of her incredibly irresponsible bestie.
Jemma: Sorry!!!I messed up and totally forgot to buy a SIM card and then my rental was a scam.In a cab with a very attractive guy that I ran into at the airport—literally.
Jemma: He’s helping me.Long story.Will text you when I know more.
Jemma: Don’t worry, I’m safe.I think.
I slip my phone into my coat pocket, feeling a bit better now that I’ve made contact with Gretchen.
Luca informs the driver of his plans in rapid French, and I struggle to keep up.Unfortunately, my French isn’t as good as I thought.Each moment I spend in this city reminds me just how unprepared I am for this trip.What was I thinking?
Go to Paris, Jemma.You’ll have a great time.Overpay for a flight at Christmas and get scammed by your impulsiveness.Follow the signs.Yup, Paris is a great idea.
I let out a sigh I didn’t realize I was withholding.
Luca reaches over, placing his hand gently on my jacket.“Jemma, this is Paris.Things have a way of working themselves out.Please don’t worry yourself.”
I take a deep breath, trying to believe him.I sure hope Luca is right.I could really use a bit of Paris magic right about now.
ChapterEleven
JEMMA
“It’s a smidge early for dinner, but I’m still on American time and could use a good meal, so how about we hit up a brasserie?”Luca proposes as we hop out of the cab and onto the sidewalk.
“Early for dinner?It’s after five,” I shoot back, raising an eyebrow as my stomach growls.
“Ah, that’s right; you Americans don’t seem to understand the value of a proper mealtime.Now is usually reserved for aperitif—apéro—an appetite kickstarter, if you will.So, dinner doesn’t normally start until much later.”He wags his finger at me.“But here we say 17:00, not five o’clock.You most certainly won’t be eating your dinner at five in the morning.”He releases a hearty chuckle.
Ah, Mr.Cocky is back.
“I know that,” I snap, letting my hand dramatically fall to my hip.“Cut a girl some slack.It’s been a day.That whole I hardly slept since yesterday thing.”
“Okay.Okay.I’ll cut you some slack.”A playful grin dances across his mouth.
“But seriously, I think it’s perfectly normal to just eat when you’re hungry,” I add.
Luca shakes his head.“No matter how many times I’ve been in the States, I’ll never understand your culture.”A cockeyed grin takes over his face.“The sheer number of people I saw consuming their meals while at their desks, walking, in cabs, and even on the dirty subway was just mind-boggling.Too much multitasking, if you ask me.”He tosses his hands in the air in apparent disapproval.“Meals are meant to be enjoyed, not mindlessly devoured.”
“Well, it’s a good thing I called you or I would have been walking around the streets of Paris munching on a sandwich like a heathen,” I joke.
“I saved you from many a Parisian scowl.”He smirks.“But in all seriousness, I don’t mean to be disrespectful of your culture, but I fear Americans are missing the whole point of life.”
His words are true.Most of my meals in the past year were consumed over my desk.If the crumbs in my keyboard could tell stories ...
