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“You ready?” he asked.
“I am.” My phone was tucked in my small purse. I had silenced it. “Where are we going?”
“I have a full evening planned. You’ll see.”
“Marguerite’s?” I guessed. I had been to visit her a few times after Knight’s move to Paris. She knew I missed him. But eventually, even that became too difficult for me.
He chuckled. “Even better. Trust me.”
I expected Knight to drive us out to the bayou. He liked the places on the road less traveled. The anonymity that came with dive bars and local haunts. As we turned through more downtown streets, I had a sinking feeling. It felt off.
He pulled along the curb as the valet hurried to the driver side of the car.
My eyes cut to him. “Is this a joke?”
“Is there something wrong with the food here? I heard it was the best in the city. Now.”
The curly French writing scrawled on the marquee lit behind his head. We had arrived at the Vieux Carre.
When I didn’t answer he quieted the music in the car. “Look, it’s a little ironic. I thought it would be a good place to start our truce.”
“That’s the truth?” I questioned.
“It seemed like a good place to start. You can show me around your hotel. But we do have reservations that start in five minutes. I could cancel?”
“No. No.” I shook my head.
The door swung open and the valet’s eyes bulged when he realized who I was. “Ms. Martin.”
“Good evening.” I smiled sweetly.
Knight nodded at me. “I knew we’d have excellent service at least.” He offered his hand as I stepped on the curb.
“Ahh, I see. You’re here for the service.”
He chuckled. “I just want to see where the night takes us.”
I felt a lump in my throat. I wasn’t sure if this was a date or psychological torture.
I shouldn’t have been surprised Knight reserved the private dining room. I often held special meetings here if I needed extreme privacy with the combined services of the hotel.
Starring at the man sitting across from me, I felt as if the night was incredibly fragile. As if we could tip the scales towards pain or happiness with very little energy. The tension was only increasing and I didn’t know how to diffuse what buzzed between us.
“So, tell me. Have the tunnels been useful?” he inquired. It was a loaded invasive question.
My eyes popped. “I thought this was a date, not a business meeting.”
He poured our champagne casually. “It is a date. But we have a lot to catch up on. I imagine you’ve been able to put the passageways to use in five years. No?”
I flatted the linen napkin in my lap. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to talk about organization business. I was under the impression the truce was about us.” I stared at him blankly. “If it’s not, I’ll have a driver take me home. Crew can set up a meeting with whomever your assistant is. Not that I’m going to talk about the Vieux Carre in that meeting either.”
He held his hands in the air in a defensive posture. “It’s clear we have a lot to learn about who we are now. I’m sorry.”
I finally exhaled. “I’m sorry I jumped down your throat.”
He grinned. I felt more at ease.
“Why don’t you tell me about Paris?” I suggested. “Not the wineries. Just what did you think about living in France? What was it like? I’ve never been. Tell me all about it.” A safe conversation starter was what we needed.
