The two of them immediately fell into bickering like an old married couple, but thankfully the waiter arrived to take our orders. I ended up ordering theGalette Bretonnes, since it was the only thing on the menu I’d been paying attention to the whole time.
“Just a fruit salad for me, please,” Iggy said with a smile.
“Of course, miss,” they replied, and Iggy’s body stiffened, the muscles in his jaw tightening.
“Thank—”
“He’s a man.”
The chatter around the table froze. It took me a second to realise I’d said it out loud. Everyone stared at me, including Iggy, whose green eyes widened in surprise.
I cleared my throat and fiddled with my napkin. “You called him ‘miss,’ but he’s a man. So, uh... you shouldn’t assume.”
The waiter gasped, immediately turning back to Iggy and apologising in a mix of English and French. Iggy waved them off like it was nothing. “It’s okay.”
When the waiter left and it was just us, I snuck a glance at Iggy. He was watching me, coffee cup in hand, a smile tugging at his lips that almost looked fond.
“Thank you,” he said quietly.
“It’s fine,” I replied, picking up my own cup. “You shouldn’t have to deal with that.”
Iggy shrugged, leaning back in his chair, one long leg crossed over the other. The hem of his tiny shorts rode even higher, revealing more pale thigh than I needed to see. “It’s fine. Happens all the time.” He lifted the cup to his lips and took a slow sip, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. “So... what’s your nickname?”
“Huh?” I frowned, still avoiding his eyes. If I looked at him directly, it’d be obvious to anyone watching that we knew each other. And I wasn’t ready to admit that. Not here. Not now.
“Everyone else has one,” he replied, grin turning downright mischievous. “Riff, Thump, Ghost, Mick. What should I callyou, Bodhi?”
Hearing my name on his lips sent goosebumps scattering up both arms. Suddenly I wasn’t on a noisy Paris hotel terrace. I was back in the Willow with him. Back in those overstuffed armchairs surrounded by boxes of tissues. Wandering the gardens before dinner, losing track of time in the hedge maze, lying in a field of wildflowers while he talked about everything and nothing. Watching him grin despite the shitstorm we’d both crawled out of and thinking,maybe I’ll be okay after all.
Feeling . . . safe.
A plate of golden crêpes appeared in front of me, snapping me back to the present. The smell of ham and cheese hit my nose, and I glanced up to find everyone else already digging into their food. Everyone except Iggy, who hadn’t touched his colourful bowl of fruit and was very clearly waiting for my answer.
“Um, I . . .”
“We call him Bones,” Thump chimed in.
Luc snorted, nearly choking on bacon.
“Dude, no we don’t,” Riff said around a mouthful of eggs. “And that nickname sucks.”
“It’s a great nickname!”
“Coming from a guy named Thump,” Luc shot back.
“You gave me that nickname, you asshole.”
“No,Idid,” Riff said proudly. “That’s why it’s great. Bones is way too cliché.”
I looked back at Iggy. He still hadn’t looked away. “I don’t have one,” I said finally. “I’m just Bodhi.”
“Okay,” he replied, spearing a piece of watermelon and popping it into his mouth. “I’ll stick with that, Just Bodhi.”
My lips twitched despite myself, and his smug little grin told me he absolutely noticed.
The two of us fell into silence as we ate, listening and watching those around us. But every now and then I felt the weight of his green eyes on my face from across the table. And no doubt he was aware of each and every time I glanced at him in return.
I was almost done with my plate when a shadow fell across the table.
