“We had a blanket and her puffer jacket—that helped to conceal us, but I’m pretty sure the flight attendants knew we were getting ... close.”
“Oh, ew! Marcel, that’s kind of horrible.” I mean yuck if the flight attendants knew.
“We were young and dumb,” he says with a shrug. “All of the other times have been in airplane suites.”
That hits me like a gut punch.
“With seatmates wearing baby vomit?” I joke, realizing how little I must mean to him.
“No.” He gets serious for a moment. “No one has been like you.”
I think I might cry, but I don’t want to be emotional, I’ve cried too much.
“Thanks, Marcel.” I know he’s just appeasing me, but I appreciate the effort. “But the sex probably sucked for you since you’re used to women who know how to ... have fun.” Ugh, I hate feeling insecure.
His eyes cut to mine, sharp, and pointed as he leans forward. “Juliet, I had fun.”
But there’s something in his tone, a little too quick and a little too practiced.
“I hope so.” Is all I say.
“I’d be down for another go if you are ...”
I can’t eventhinkof having sex again. I’m still sore and I have a lot of complicated feelings around having sex with a random stranger. But Marcel doesn’t feel like a stranger, he feels like home, oddly, but he’s not and never will be so I pull up my big girl panties and face him.
“I should probably get some sleep. I can hunker down on the couch if you want, but I think I might fall in love with you if we have sex again. You’re very good, you should be so proud.” I am mostly kidding.
“Oh, well, thank you.” He pretends to puff up. “But I am not someone who you fall in love with or should ever consider marriageable ... is that a word?”
“I know your ex wife hurt you, but you really never want to find love again?” I find it hard to believe that he wouldn’t want to have a partner in his life.
“I don’t want to be attached to anyone ever again, ma chérie. Having sex with you tonight was lovely and all I hope is that it was good for your first time.”
“If—and we are just talking hypothetically here—you found the right girl ... and I’m not fishing for me to be that girl, because I already know you and I don’t fit. But if you were to find the right woman, who would she be?” I am so curious to hear who a man like Marcel’s dream lover might be.
“She would be you,” he says and sounds serious.
“You don’t know me and you don’t like vegans,” I counter by being argumentative. “And I don’t like Grinches.” I jut out my chin, though I do like Marcel, despite the difference in our ages. He has a playful spirit and he’s mature, elegant, and fucking gorgeous.
“Grinches,” he playfully frowns and then turns the tables on me. “Who is your ideal man?”
“Well, he isn’t perfect. He’s kind, friendly, and adventurous. And, yeah, probably—not most likely—a vegan. Someone who cares about the world.”
Marcel’s expression hardens but he tries to cover it with a smile. “He doesn’t have to be vegan. In fact, your man might end up being the complete opposite of you.”
My cheeks heat, thinking of Marcel being that man. “Maybe.”
Silence thickens between us until he breaks it with a smirk, his voice dipping low.
“So, no second round?”
I shake my head, biting my lip. “I’m ... sore. Honestly, I need to sleep, tomorrow is probably going to be a crazy day. I mean it, I can take the couch—” I gesture toward the massive leather sectional. “Or, you know, I can just wander back through the airport and find a nice patch of floor.”
He makes a gruff noise that is a cross between a growl and a huff, clearly not liking the idea of me going back into the airport. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’ll sleep here. And if you just want to sleep ... that’s all we’ll do.”
I’m surprised he doesn’t push for more. Instead, he gets up and goes to the bar and gets two glasses of water from the water dispenser. Handing me a glass, he nudges me toward the bathroom to brush my teeth and wash my face.
“Use the bathroom and get ready for bed. It’s nearly two in the morning, you must be exhausted.”
