“Duchesne, around the corner. I just work the register, but they’re such good people and the chocolatier’s been teaching me some stuff. Have you been there?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact. I was there today. Didn’t see you, though.” Arsehole that I am, I’d probably have avoided the place if I’d known she worked there.
“What did you get?”
“Oh, just a bûche de noel. For a friend.”
“Really? Well, it is entirely possible that I made those little mushrooms on top. Cécile’s been showing me how to make perfect meringues.”
“I’m impressed.”
“Oh, I just mess around.”
“You made meringues that were sold in one of the best patisseries in the city. That’s not exactly messing around.” I deliver the two last words with a terrible American accent.
“Huh. I hadn’t considered that. It’s just a job, you know? I got it through a friend. Unofficial and everything. Besides, I’m taking off soon.”
My stomach clenches. “Oh? Where to?”
“There’s work waiting for me in Milan.”
“Ah. Moving up to Master Chocolatier? Or is it Mistress?”
“That sounds naughty.” I refrain from responding and let her go on. “No, just helping out in a shop.”
“What kind of shop?”
“I don’t remember, actually. Clothes? Or maybe a tourist thing? It’s not about the job, it’s about the experience. I just…traveling’s what I do. The rest is…” She makes a hand movement that I can’t see. In its wake, the air moves. Nothing but a shift of particles that I feel against the back of my hand.
“Sounds rather exciting.” Her silence speaks volumes and when I go on, my voice is gentler, the words almost a question. “Or not?”
“Yeah, no, itisexciting.”
“All right.” I settle back, enjoying her weight and, if I’m being honest, the conversation, too. She’s interesting, bright, easy to chat with.
“Crap.”
“What?” I loosen my hold. “You all right?”
“I don’t want to go.” From her voice, I’d say this is a realization she’s just now having.
“Then don’t.”
“It’s not that easy.”
I say nothing.
“I like it here.”
“In Paris?”Or in my arms?
“Yeah. The shop. This building. Friends… Neighbors.”
“Except the git on the 5th floor. That bastard can get right off.”
The light thump of her hand smacking my shoulder puts a smile on my face. I wonder if she’s smiling, too, and for a moment, I consider reaching out to touch her lips in order to find out.
“That obnoxious British guy? Jury’s still out on him.”
