Chapter 4
“Tu as vingt et un?”he asks.Bizarrely, this is one of the phrases I remember from the class for some reason.
“I’ll be twenty-two in two days.”
“Birthday in Paris.Sounds planned.”
“Very much so.”
We paid our check already, but have half the bottle left to finish.He leans forward, the bottle of sparkling wine and two plates with no food left on them remain on the table between us.Resting his head on his hand, he looks me over again.I blush, still not used to how intensely he stares at me.“Why are you alone in Paris on your birthday?”
I turn the champagne glass around on top of the small wooden table.“Because I couldn’t find anyone to come with me.”
Sitting back, he scans the bistro.When I look around, I notice it’s crowded, more so now than when we arrived.Couples surround us, their love evident by how they speak to each other in whispers and body language.I ask, “Who was that girl yesterday?”
By how his eyes stay focused on his lap, I determine this might be a touchy subject, but the slap is a bigger indicator than that.Topping off my glass, he says, “An ex-girlfriend.”
“When did you break it off with the ex?”
Waving his finger, affirming my point, he replies, “I might have forgotten that step.”
With a laugh, I pick up my glass, and say, “It’s an important step.”I take a couple of sips and set the glass back down.
Olivier rubs his cheek as if he can still feel the burn.“I have learned that lesson.”
“The hard way.”When he looks at me curiously, I quickly add, “That’s just a phrase.You got slapped.That’s the hard way to learn a lesson.”
“The more painful way.”
“Yes.”
“And you?Are there exes in your past?”
Shyly, I look back at the bubbles in my glass.“One or two.”
“No more than that?”
