“Bernard has offered to have you stay with him, Jack. Does that sound good to you?”
He straightened up and said, “That sounds great, Eve. Perfect.” Hmm, he seemed a bit misty-eyed, too. What had they been bonding over?
My stomach growled loudly, reminding me of my lack of food. “Jack, I’m about to pass out from hunger. Would you like to go find something to eat?”
“Now that you mention it, yeah, my stomach is trying to stage a revolt and go in search of a bakery to conquer.” he chuckled.
“OK. Oh, wait, what should we do with our bags?”
“Oh, just leave them here,” Bernard offered. “We’ll take them home with us and you can grab a cab home when you are finished. And you can show Jack a little of Paris. Stretch the legs after your long flight.”
“Are you sure it’s not too much trouble?” I asked.
“For you, ma petite chou? Nothing is too much trouble.” And he gave me another big hug and kissed the top of my head.
I gave Grandmère a swift kiss on the cheek and she hugged me tightly. “Thank you for coming, cherie. I love you. Always.” And she looked a bit teary again.
Chapter 27
Jack and I got into the elevator together. And he held my hand. I tried to control my breathing, telling myself this didn’t mean anything. Friends held hands, right? Except, did friends enjoy it this much? I had a sudden, rash impulse to press the stop button on the elevator and to wrap myself around Jack and kiss him. A shiver ran over me as I imagined that kiss. Jack looked at me curiously, but I kept my gaze straight ahead. I’m sure he couldn’t tell that I was imaging running my fingers through his hair again, pressing him back against the wall…Stop it, Eve! That’s definitely not a friend thing, and Jack had said he wanted to be friends. So, just stop imagining how wonderful it would feel to…
The elevator tinged to signal that we were on the lobby level as the doors slid open. Jack kept darting glances at me as we walked outside. There was a chilly breeze gusting up, so I took a moment to button up my coat, then resumed holding hands, as if that was a normal thing we always did.
I paused at the corner, orienting myself. I made a decision, and we crossed the street and then turned right. After several blocks, Jack broke the silence.
“Are you going to tell me where we’re going? You know, I’m pretty much at your mercy here. I have no idea where anything is and don’t speak French, so I couldn’t ask for directions, even if I knew where to go.”
I chuckled. “Ask for directions? That doesn’t seem very manly, Jack.”
He smiled at that. “So are we headed toward food or am I going to have to resort to pantomime to communicate that I’m starving.”
I eyed him, mock-seriously. “You know, Marcel Marceau was French. He set the bar pretty high for pantomime. I’m not sure you’d get any reaction by just pointing to your mouth.”
His grin returned, then turned sober. “Then it looks like I have to throw myself on your mercy and trust you to take care of me. “
“Jack, have I steered you wrong yet? You can trust me.” I meant it to sound teasing, but I think it came out more honestly than I had intended.
Luckily, we were right abreast of the cafe. It was one of my favorites. It was the place Grandmère, and sometimes Bernard, took me for Sunday lunch and macarons—Ladurée. Just looking at the mint green façade and the twinkling lights framing the windows showing off a pyramid of pastries made my heart happy.
We were on the tail end of the lunch rush and were able to snag a small table easily. We sat on the carved wood chairs, and I placed my bag on the marble top of the table. I sighed happily, looking at the chandeliers casting a soft glow over the pastel hued walls, the tables glittering with china, silver, and crystal, and the large display case along one wall featuring the world’s best pastries. At least, that was my opinion.
Jack looked around him, eyes wide. “Eve, this place is amazing. It’s so beautiful. Everything looks old, but beautiful.”
I smiled in appreciation. “Yes, it is old, but it is beloved. Ladurée is a part of what makes Paris such a marvelous city.”
I decided to have the Salad Niçoise and Jack had the French onion soup, which smelled heavenly and almost made me regret my choice. Jack ate, his head constantly swiveling, looking at the people, the buildings and the food, but always coming back to me. He kept looking at me like he was trying to figure something out.
When we had eaten our delicious food, I purchased a gift box of macarons, a rainbow of pastel colors, and two pastries. I, of course, picked pain au chocolate. Jack was overcome by the choices, so settled for copying my selection.
“Would you like to eat them here or try to find a bench outside?” I was hoping for inside as the breeze outside had picked up and it looked chilly.
“Um, inside, if that’s ok.” We resumed our seats and ate our pastries, moaning a tiny bit in appreciation of the skill of the bakers in producing such perfection. After we had finished our pastries, savoring each and every crumb, Jack spoke.
“Eve, I’ve got an apology to make.” Jack wiped his hands nervously on the embroidered linen napkin and placed it on the table.
“What for, Jack? You’ve been perfectly wonderful! You don’t need to apologize for a thing.”
“No, I do. I need to apologize because…I lied to you.”
