Page 51 of All Our Nevers

“So your mom speaks French?”

I shake my head. “No, I just took it in college and then kept studying on my own.”

“Why?”

I shrug. “I figured if I was going into fashion I should learn French for Paris, since I already knew Italian for Milan.”

Owen’s voice is disbelieving. “So you started learning French in college because you wanted to work in fashion, and you just kept taking classes until you were fluent?”

“I’m not fluent.”

“When have you ever been humble, and this is where you start?”

I wrap my arms around his waist just so I have a chance to pinch his side on the way there. “I’m humble when it’s warranted. I know my limits.”

His arms mirror mine, wrapping around my waist and pressing the front of my body to his as he asks, “Have you been to Paris?”

“Nope. And anyway, it doesn’t matter anymore. The fashion part of my work is a footnote at best. And the way things are shaping up, a Eurotrip isn’t exactly in the budget. But maybe someday.”

He laughs. “Oh, you’ll get there someday. If there’s one thing I already know about you, it’s that when you decide you’re gonna do something, you do it.”

That pulls the first real smile of the night from me. “Guilty as charged.”

“Thanks for putting it in the language of my people.”

“Anytime.”

“By the way, did Guy just ask out my girlfriend right in front of me? Why do you need his number?”

“Oh!” I slap my palms onto his chest, grabbing the lapels of his charcoal gray suit jacket. “I forgot you wouldn’t have understood that part. His cousin is expanding her French boutique to a Newbury Street location, and she’s looking for new designers based in Boston to work with. He said he would get me a meeting with her!”

“What? Really?” His palms cup my waist, pushing my body back an inch to more easily meet my eyes. “But he didn’t even see your work.”

“I know, it’s insane. I guess he just really likes me.” I grin, all teeth and mockery. “Unlike some people.”

“Who said I don’t like you?” he asks with a teasing glint in his eye.

“You. Repeatedly.” I’m smiling as I say it, because not even Owen’s flirtation can bring down my mood right now.

A mirrored smile quirks at the corner of his mouth. “It’s not that I don’t like you, I’m just jealous you look better than me in red.”

He pinches my side and I yelp, falling into laughter. His eyes sparkle with a self-satisfied expression.

“Hey, I see that look on your face,” I say. “You don’t get to take the credit for this.”

“Right. It was only my idea for you to come today, and my friend who got you the opportunity.”

“And my sparkling personality and language skills that sealed the deal.”

“I guess we make a good pair after all,” he says.

His hand starts to slide down the side of my body, from my waist to my hip, warm and big and needy.

I’m about to mock him for making his desire so obvious when the bartender says, “What can I get for you two?”

We’re at the front of the line. I didn’t even notice.

“White wine, please,” I say. “Sauvignon blanc if you have it.”