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Noah takes my hand and runs his thumb over the back of my hand.
“Good, I’d like to see more of you. I know that we can’t do a serious long-term thing—I don’t think that would work.”
I shake my head. I can’t do a long-distance relationship. Having Noah in my life but barely getting to see him will just kill me.
“But I’d like to see you again.”
“That could work,” I say. “But we shouldn’t drag this out, Noah.”
“I know, I know.” He sighs and looks at the setting sun. It’s painted everything in gold, and the sky is a medley of yellow and orange and red. “But I’ve fallen for you, Raven. Hard. I know it’s stupid to say that, especially now. But I can’t help it.”
Hearing him say that makes a lump rise in my throat.
“I feel the same way about you,” I say softly.
He groans and sits back. “How does something like this happen? How can we be this good together, and we can’t actually make it work?”
I shake my head. “Sometimes, it’s just not meant to be, right?”
“I don’t think that’s true. This feels more meant to be than anything else I’ve done before.”
I swallow hard. I’m getting more and more emotional. It’s hard that it’s going to end soon. I feel just as frustrated by the logistics of our relationship—and the fact that it can’t happen—as he feels. But there’s nothing that can be done about it. He has a life here, and I have one in Paris.
Not to mention Ava. She’s the real reason none of this would work. If it was just me, I might have considered handling a New York branch myself. But then again, if it was just me, none of this would have been the way it was. There’s no point in going back and wondering what life would have been like if things were different.
I’m so torn; I want to tell Noah about Ava. I want him to know that he’s her father, that she’s a wonderful person. I want him to know how much she reminds me of him.
I come so close to saying something, it scares me.
When the server interrupts the moment, I’m relieved he saved me from doing something stupid.
What good would it do to tell Noah about Ava? He doesn’t want children. He won’t be involved in her life. And if he is—if he decides to contact her—it won’t be in any way that will give her the father she needs. It will just confuse her. And money-wise, I don’t need it from him anymore. There was a time I did, but that changed a long time ago.
We order our food—Noah asks for the chef’s special—and when the server leaves, the moment is gone.
“What’s the chef’s special?” I ask.
“I have no idea. He comes up with something different every night and surprises the diners. We’ll see what we get.”
I smile. “That sounds fun.”
“It really is. I’ve never been here where the special wasn’t amazing.”
We sip our wine and the conversation flows to other, less serious things. When the food comes, it’s a seafood medley in white wine sauce on white rice, and it’s to die for.
“I don’t think I’ve ever eaten anything so good,” I say halfway through the meal. “You would have to roll me out of here if I came every night.”
“It’s a real treat,” Noah agrees.
When he takes me home, we’re silent in the car. It’s not the comfortable silence we’ve shared before. This time, it’s riddled with longing and sorrow. We’re not going to spend the night together—I won’t be able to tear myself away from him in the morning if we wake up together.
When he stops against the curb and opens the door for me, he helps me out of the car and into his arms.
“I can’t believe this is it,” he says in a thick voice.
“Yeah.” I can’t trust myself to say anything more.
“We’ll stay in touch, okay?” he says.
