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He starts the car with a powerful growl and we drive through the city. I watch the tall buildings and their lights slide by. It’s so different from Paris, which is a lot more picturesque. I was used to this once; the contrast between the two cities is very stark.
Will the contrast between Noah and me be the same?
“Where are we going?” I ask when I realize I have no idea what he has planned for tonight.
He parks in front of the Wollman Ice Rink in central park.
“Ice skating,” he says with a grin.
“I can’t skate,” I confess.
“Good, it will make me look like less of a fool…I can’t skate either.” He grins pearly white teeth at me, and if it wasn’t so cold, I would melt.
We get out of the car. The skies are clear, but it’s freezing cold. The ice rink is only half full. A few skaters make graceful pirouettes in the center while others cling to the edge of the rink, depending on their skill level.
We go through the process of renting skates and getting them on before stepping on the ice. I cling to the barrier like it’s a lifeline and if I let go, I might go under. Noah is a little surer of himself, solid on his feet, and although he moves slowly, he doesn’t have to hold on the way I do.
“Give me your hand,” he says.
“I’m going to fall,” I say with a laugh, trying to hide how terrified I am of landing on my face and looking like a total idiot. I want to impress Noah. I can do a lot of things, but skating isn’t one of them.
“Then we’ll go down together,” he says with a grin. “You and me, babe.” He holds out his hand, and I can’t resist him. I take it, and with feet wide like a newborn calf, we move forward. My breath creates clouds as we slowly make our way around the rink. It takes a while to find my feet, but as we move, I become more and more comfortable, and after a while, I can focus on the conversation rather than staying upright.
“So, why Paris?” Noah asks.
“My aunt lives there. She was a safety net, a support network, and Paris is the fashion capital of the world. I wanted to really have a shot at making it big.”
“It’s a very risky step,” Noah says.
“We have to take risks to make it big, right?”
“Right,” Noah says.
I take a deep breath. I didn’t say anything about Ava being half the reason I decided to go to Paris—it was a fresh start, a way to cope with how my life changed when I had it all mapped out.
“It’s very noble of me to say that about risks, but I’m not really that daring,” I admit. “I always play it safe. Michelle is the one who pushed me to get this far.”
“You work hard,” Noah says. “She didn’t do it all just for you to stick your face on it.”
“No, I guess not.”
Noah pulls me closer. I wobble, nearly losing my balance, but he’s got me.
“You did great from what I can tell. Your business is thriving. I did a bit of research on your fashion house.”
“Really?” I’m surprised he looked me up.
“Yeah, I wanted to see what you’re all about. I want to get to know you. Your stuff is very different from what’s generally out there. I think that’s why people like it so much.”
“I hope so,” I say. “If everything goes according to plan here, I might expand and open an office in New York.”
“Really?” His eyes light up when I say it. “You might move back here?”
I shake my head. “No, I won’t be the one moving here. Michelle will probably run it.”
“Why?” he asks. “Don’t you miss being back home?”
I do miss it back here. I miss seeing my parents over holidays, even if they live in Texas, but it’s a hell of a lot closer to New York than it is to Paris. But I won’t come back here. I won’t uproot Ava. Paris is all she knows, and she’s happy at school.
