Daisy closed the door and waited for a moment.
“He’s much better looking in real life than in the photo on his book,” she said with a yawn. “I’m going to take a nap. I’m exhausted. It was fun, though, wasn’t it? He certainly did seem to enjoy my cooking . . . I mean,yourcooking.”
With these words, Daisy went into her bedroom, Mia into hers, and the two friends did not speak another word to each other all day.
Lying on her bed, Mia picked up her phone and reread all of David’s messages.
In the early evening, she pulled on a pair of jeans and a light sweater and went out, slamming the door behind her.
The taxi dropped her off at Place de l’Alma. She sat outside at a café and ordered a glass of pink champagne, which she downed in one gulp while keeping an eye on her phone. She had just ordered a second glass when the screen lit up. This time it was a call, not a text. She hesitated before answering.
“What’s going on? Why were you acting like that today?”
“Why wereyouacting like that?”
He sighed. “Where are you?”
“Place de l’Alma.”
“What are you doing there?”
“Looking at the bridge.”
“Why?”
“Because I like it. Is that okay with you?”
“And where are you looking at it from?”
“From an outside table at Chez Francis.”
“I’m on my way.”
Paul turned up four glasses of champagne later. He double-parked his car and sat down next to Mia.
“Has your meal gone down yet?” she asked him.
“Listen, I couldn’t care less if the truth is that you don’t know how to cook, and I couldn’t care less if you’re actually a waitress and not the owner. But I will not accept you trying to set me up with your friend.”
Mia looked upset. “So do you like her, or not?”
“Daisy is beautiful, lively, and interesting, and she’s a superb cook,” Paul admitted. Then, raising his voice: “But it is up to me, and me alone, to decide who I meet and who I don’t meet. I don’t let my oldest friends meddle with my private life, and I’m sure as hell not going to let you do it.”
“Do you want to see her again?” Mia asked, speaking over Paul.
And, as they argued, their faces drew gradually closer together until their lips touched.
For a moment, the two of them were dumbstruck.
Then, in a calm voice, Paul told Mia: “I hated that, back at your place today.”
“So did I.”
“There was this . . . distance between us.”
“Yes.”
“Tonight, I’m going to write a scene where my characters have a huge argument and then make up. I have enough material to fill a couple dozen pages.”
