“Sounds perfect!”I agree, feeling my stomach rumble at the thought.“And then maybe the steak frites for me.”
“Excellent choice.I’ll have the steak frites, too,” he decides.“Shall we split a bottle of red wine too?”
Wine does sound good right about now.
“Sure,” I respond, trying not to sound too eager.
With a wave of his hand, Luca calls the waiter back over and confidently places our order.I’m grateful Luca takes charge, sparing me the anxiety of fumbling through my French.I listen closely, memorizing the way he pronounces each word, locking it away for when I dine solo.That is, if I can find a place to stay, or this might be my last and only meal in Paris.
Once the server disappears, Luca leans in attentively.“So, Jemma, are you going to tell me why you decided to come to Paris?”
I open my mouth, but before I can respond, his phone rings.My heart skips a beat as I catch sight of the name flashing on the screen—Colette.A photo of a stunning brunette with sun-kissed skin and a bright smile pops up.He falters for just a moment before declining it.
The waiter promptly returns with our wine, and as he’s pouring our glasses, the woman calls again.This time, after declining it, Luca flips his phone over on the table, placing it face down.He reaches for his glass and takes a generous gulp, seemingly ruffled by his relentless caller.
Who’s Colette?
I glance at his bare ring finger—no signs of commitment there.Maybe she’s just his girlfriend.
I take a deep breath, trying to push aside the sudden pang of insecurity from the attractive caller.
I’m no Colette.
Did I really think Luca was available?A man this handsome and kind-hearted—frustrating but kind-hearted—must have someone special in his life.He looks to be in his early thirties, so he’s probably tied down.But then again, I’m pushing thirty myself and still single.
Does it matter, though?
I just met him, and I’ll probably never see him again after tonight.But I’d hate for a jealous girlfriend to hunt us down and accuse Luca of cheating or something crazy.Crimes of passion are high in Paris, or so I’ve heard.I don’t want to step on anyone’s toes or get between a couple, and I’m most certainly not into a ménage à trois.
Clearing his throat, he nudges the conversation back to me, completely ignoring the fact that he’s avoiding someone.“You were about to tell me why you came to Paris.”
Nervously, I twist a strand of my hair between my fingers.“I lost my job a couple of days ago,” I say in a hushed tone.
“And you decided it was a good time to take a trip?”he quips.
“Kind of.”I let out an uncomfortable laugh.“To be honest, I’ve been a workaholic and never took any vacations.So, when Foster & Sons let me go due to budget cuts, I guess you could say fate led me here.And so far, it’s been pretty rocky, as you can see.Some kind of fate, huh?”
His eyebrow quirks up, and he opens his mouth to respond, but the waiter arrives with the mussels.Good timing too; he probably thinks I’m an irresponsible nut.It’s better to put an end to this conversation now.
I slide a mussel onto my plate and seize the moment to shift the spotlight.“What were you doing in New York?”
“I was there on business,” he replies, leaning back in his chair.“I travel where I’m needed,” he says with very little enthusiasm.
“That sounds fun.”
“It’s not as glamorous as it sounds.Honestly, it’s getting quite tiring.I’m thinking about switching things up, maybe finding a new job,” he admits, giving me a little shoulder shrug.
“Oh,” I respond softly.
I expect him to elaborate, but he doesn’t.
Instead, he flashes me a mischievous grin and asks, “What would you want to do if money were no object?”
“Oh, wow.This took an interesting turn.”I stroke the stem of my wine glass.
“Well, you just lost your job, so it’s time to open up your possibilities, right?”He raises his brow.“So, what is it that calls to you?Like, what’s your passion?You can’t tell me you were working your dream job.”He brings his glass to his lips and watches me while he takes a sip.
I take a generous gulp of my wine, appreciating the full-bodied, earthy flavor, while mulling over his question.I know I wasn’t working my dream job, but was my goal of getting into marketing simply settling?I take a deep breath and go for it.I let my wild and crazy dream leave my lips.
