But then, right behind her, I sawher… The flight attendant.
She looked completely different.
Same face, same posture, but no blazer, no bun, no polite, practiced smile. Her hair was down. She has long, dark brown hair, a little messy in that effortless, slept-in way. She wore jeans and a fitted top with a long jacket, casual but clean, and the curve of her hips under the denim caught more than one glance as she stepped further inside.
Light makeup. A spark in her eyes I hadn’t seen on the plane. And then those blue eyes met mine. Like, even though she looked around the room, it was me who stood out to her.
Our gaze held, just for a second too long. And suddenly, the wine, the bartender, the quiet in my head, all of it vanished.
Because now I wasn’t alone in Paris anymore.
She whispered something to the redhead as they entered, a little smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. Whatever she said made the redhead glance my way, just once, before she kept walking with the rest of their group— three women, two guys, all headed toward a high-top table near the back.
But her? She started walking towards the bar.
I straightened just slightly on the stool, not trying to look eager but suddenly hyper-aware of my posture, my shirt, and whether I still smelled like duckand red wine. She slid into the open space next to me, her body angled just enough toward mine to feel intentional.
“1A,” she said with a lift of her brow. “Ditched the Jack and ginger already?”
I smiled. “Couldn’t let the Parisian wine go to waste.” She leaned her elbow on the bar. “I was hoping you’d be a whisky loyalist. I like consistency.”
“You’ll be disappointed with me, then,” I said, watching her closely. “I’m a fan of options.”
Her smile curled a little deeper. Playful, teasing, but there was a new energy in her now. Off-duty, unfiltered, the version of her I hadn’t met yet. “I’m Theo,” I said, offering a hand. She looked at it, then shook it with just enough pressure to make it feel like a statement.
“I’m Sam. But I like 1A more.”
“Is that a flight attendant thing?”
“Oh no, that’s a me thing.” God, she was good at this game. “Can I get you a glass?” I asked, nodding toward the half-bottle still sitting between us.
“I thought you’d never ask.” I poured it for her and slid the glass her way.
She took a sip, then let out a quiet, appreciative hum. “Okay, I forgive you for abandoning whiskey,” she said.
We settled into easy conversation. We talked about the restaurant, the food, the way the music had changed since the early crowd started trickling out, and the night energy rolled in. “A place like this isperfect for layovers,” she said. “Low tourist density, strong drinks, dim lighting.”
“You forgot the overpriced duck.” She laughed. “Right. The full Parisian experience.” We talked about traveling. Light stuff, favorite routes, weird passenger habits, the best and worst airport food in Europe. She was sharp, funny, and completely present.
“Do you always talk to passengers after you land?” I asked, curious. “Only the ones who drink Jack and ginger and ask polite questions about breakfast options,” she said. “I was polite?”
“For a first-class man? You were practically a saint.”
She was close now, just enough that our arms brushed every so often when we reached for our glasses.
CHAPTER FIVE
sam
The winebetween us was almost gone, but it wasn’t really about the wine anymore. It was more about the ritual, the small act of filling and refilling, of staying in the moment. Of saying without saying, ‘I’m not ready to leave yet’.
He tilted the bottle, trying to pour the last of it into my glass, and raised his brows when only a couple of drops fell out. I smirked. “Well, that’s tragic.”
He looked over at the bartender. “Should we?” I leaned in, just enough to feel the tension shift. “I guess we’ll have to share another one. It would be rude not to.”
He chuckled softly, flagging the bartender with a small nod. “Rude is definitely not my brand.” When the new bottle arrived, he poured each of us a fresh glass. The night felt easy now. The bar was full, but our corner felt like its own orbit.
“So,” I said, resting my chin lightly on my hand, “earlier you said this trip was your reset before something big. What’s the big thing?” He hesitated, just slightly. Not enough to be suspicious, just enough to feel careful. I need him to say it. “I’m taking on a new role,” he said. “It’s corporate. A very well-established company. It’s not my usual pace, but… it was time to make a change.”
