“Eve!” His voice had a genuine pleading note to it. I held up a finger to indicate I’d be just a minute. I came back with a selection of cheeses and baguette slices.
“I haven’t had dinner yet and if I drink this delicious wine on an empty stomach, I will probably say things I regret.”
He nodded as I helped myself to a slice of Brie spread on bread, took a fortifying sip of wine, then spoke. “Jack, I do not hate you.”
“You sure fooled me! You won’t respond to my texts. You dodge my calls. What’s going on?”
“You let me know, in no uncertain terms, that you were only interested in fun, a relationship with an expiration date. And I have no time for that. I’ve had my heart broken before and it’s not something I care to repeat.”
His face looked horrorstruck. “Eve, that wasn’t what I meant! I’m not out to break your heart.”
“You might not have set out to do it, but you would accomplish it,” I replied, softly.
“How do you know that?” he challenged.
“I know because I’ve lived through it before.”
“What are you talking about? Who broke your heart? And can I beat him up for you?”
That coaxed a small smile from me, as he’d known it would. I had to tell him. He deserved to know why we couldn’t be together.
“Let’s go into the living room. It’ll be more comfortable there.” I picked up my wine glass and walked to the living room, setting it on the coffee table in front of the couch. Jack placed his glass beside mine, held up a finger and walked back into the kitchen. I heard the refrigerator opening and closing, dishes clinking, the rattle of the silverware drawer, and then he came back into the living room carrying two bowls of ice cream. He deposited the chocolate in front of me. I had to press my lips together to keep from sniffling. I’d been so rude, and he was still being thoughtful.
He sat down by me, close enough that I could see the concern in his eyes, but not so close that I worried he’d try to hold me.
“You know my deepest, darkest secrets, Eve. It’s time to share yours.”
I took a bite of ice cream, then realized I was delaying. It was time to get it out in the open.
I took a deep breath and started. “I went to the Sorbonne for college. I was thrilled to be there, thrilled to be studying in the international business track. There was a young man in my classes that caught my eye. LCB.”
“What does that stand for?”
“We’ll get to that later. Don’t interrupt.”
Jack mimed sealing his lips shut.
“He was so good looking, my heart fluttered every time he walked by.”
“I hate him already,”
“Jack!” I glared.
“Sorry.” And he pantomimed locking his lips and throwing away the key.
“He was tall, had dark, curly hair, and intense, dark eyes.”
Jack held up a finger, got up, went into the kitchen, opened a few drawers and came back with a pen and my grocery list pad. He wrote, “I think you have a type.”
I rolled my eyes and said, “Thank you. Well spotted, Dr. Freud.”
I continued. “All the girls in our classes flirted with him and even asked him out. But he never paid attention to any of them. But in our sophomore year, he asked me out. Me!” I still remembered the happy, fluttery feeling of having him select me out of the crowd.
Jack raised his eyebrows and spread his hands, palms up, as if to say, “Duh!”
I shook my head and smiled a bit, then went on with the story.
“We dated all that year, and it was wonderful. He was so sweet and thoughtful, full of surprises, and I fell for him hard, so when he asked me to move in with him my junior year, I did.”
