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Maybe it's just because this is a really fancy restaurant, which is exactly what you expect when you come to Monaco. I'm not used to being in this kind of place. Either way, whatever it is, I just can't help but feel as though I'm being watched as I walk through the restaurant. Like everyone has their eyes on me and is judging me. I keep my own eyes down, focusing on not tripping on the floor until I reach the bathroom.
I'm almost inside, just about to pass behind a screen that artfully shields the doors when someone taps my shoulder. I spin around, surprised, to see a familiar face. One which I did not expect to see again, least of all so soon.
Nico.
His face takes my breath away. He’s changed since I last saw him, into a more formal suit in dark colors. It fits his body perfectly, hugging in just the right places. I have to try hard to resist the urge to reach out and run my hands along the tops of his shoulders, they look so strong and perfect. I can't help but wonder for a long moment if this is really happening, or if I've just gone completely mad and started seeing my daydreams as if they are real.
“Liliana,” he says, and then shoves his hands inside his pockets and half-grins at the floor. “Sorry, I wasn’t… following you. Well, not exactly.”
“Not exactly?” I ask, raising my eyebrow and crossing my arms. I can’t help myself. I seem to be teasing him. God, where did I get the courage to do a thing like that? “What does that mean? Should I be calling security?”
Nico laughs, a little bashfully. It’s the first time I’ve seen him be anything but utterly composed. It makes him a little more human, and a lot more lovable. I feel something splinter inside my heart, like a tiny piece of it, just broke off and is going to live in this moment forever.
“I was coming over to say hello when you got up,” he says. “I ended up chasing you halfway across the restaurant.”
“You didn’t want to speak to my Dad?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. “You could have just sat with him and waited for me to get back.”
“Oh.” He turns and looks out at the restaurant, partially hidden from our view by the carved screen. “Yes, I suppose I could have. It, ah. Didn’t occur to me.”
I bite my lip to hide a pleased smile. So, he doesn’t want to talk to my dad. He wants to talk to me, is that right?
“Well, I was actually just on my way inside,” I say, gesturing to the bathroom door. “Maybe it would be a little more civilized if we were to talk when I get back out?”
I don’t want to leave him, or this conversation, but the truth is that I do really need to go. I was waiting for the waiter to serve us so I could finally come and relieve myself, and I don’t think I can wait much longer. When he chuckles and nods his agreement, I can’t help but hope that he will actually be here when I get back. I turn and dash inside, wanting to get back to him as soon as possible.
As expected, it turns out to be a beautiful space inside. Marble sinks are surrounded by gorgeous floral displays, all of them fresh. I take one of the individual cubicles and do what I need to do, marveling all the while at how clean and airy it is inside here. It's not like what I would expect back home, but then again, it's not like I go to restaurants with this kind of price point all the time. This is just one treat, something for me and Dad to enjoy as part of our special vacation.
I finish up and head out into the open space, with my eyes still on the floor as I step out. But what I see makes me stop still.
A man’s shoes.
My first thought is that somehow, Nico has come inside the bathroom, followed me so that we can talk privately. But why would he come into the ladies’ bathroom? That doesn’t make any sense when we could just find each other outside.
And then my eyes travel up, racing up a stained and dirty trouser leg, up a half-untucked shirt, and to a face that I don’t recognize at all.
It’s a man, staring at me with bleary eyes in a face that is reddened with alcohol. He sways just slightly as he stares at me, making me freeze in shock. He shouldn’t be in here. What’s he doing in here?
“You,” he says, his voice just slightly slurred. “You’re a pros- a pros- a lady of the night.”
“What?” I gasp, shaking my head rapidly. “No, I’m not.”
