“How much money do you think you would need?”
René looked at her with an odd expression. It was, after all, a delicate, maybe even considered vulgar question to ask a Frenchman.
“William isthetop investment capitalist in New York,” she clarified, surprised and elated that her ex would offer to help her friend grow his business.
“I suppose, one hundred thousand euros,” René said.
“Hm. I might be able to help you with that.”
“Oui? Yes! I would be most happy to discuss this further.”
“Excellent.”
“But now, let’s talk impasto! Tell me, what type of palette knives do you enjoy using?”
“It depends on the subject matter, but recently I preferred an Italian twelve-centimeter, a few brushes ... and my fingers.”
René sat back. “Your fingers! I love it!”
“I like layers, and this way I could feel and mold the image better. It’s in the movement, like I’m touching beyond the paint. My subject ... moved me, literally ...” William’s eyes met hers across the table. “… using my fingers came naturally.”
“I love this man! You must dump the fake pornographer and marry him instead. It would be a great collaboration.”
In that moment, with René enthusiastically expounding on molding and texture in the background, their eyes locked across the table. Something breathtaking passed between their hearts, the unspoken words of their heartbeats. She’d marry him at this very moment if all their impediments disappeared.
Forcing herself to pull away, she said, “Um, René, does Terese still have her pottery studio? I thought William and I could take a class.”
“Absolument!” He took out his phone, then texted. “It is done. She will expect you for a private class at noon.”
“William, are you up for learning something new with me? Terese is a master potter and sculptor.”
“Absolument,” he said with a grin. “I’d love to do that with you. In fact, I’m up for anything.”
TWENTY-SIX
After one of the best days William had spent in a long time, he’d lain awake ruminating on how their day flowed so naturally, and he counted the minutes to seeing Lizzy again. The entire day was filled with laughter and color, even in the rain. Her infectious joie de vivre was everything he remembered, and he discovered a million more things about her that made her all the more fascinating. If he hadn’t already been in love with her, he would have surely lost his heart to her the minute she flung pottery clay at him, or when her lips surrounded the gelato, or when she conversed in flawless French and handed out kisses like they were candy to everyone she knew. He was unmitigatedly crazier for her than he had been all those years ago—if that was even possible.
True to her word, on their way back to the hotel, they stopped in the Jardin des Tuilleries for gelato beside the Bassin Octogonal pool. Each lap of her pink tongue along the melting tower of purple and green cream spellbound him. From the fountain to the ducks, so many worthy distractions surrounded them, but none were worth discussing for fear she’d expound on any given topic, and the momentary, fleeting delight of her enjoyment of the cone would end. He wanted to discuss their pottery expedition, but he’d wait until dinner to tell her how much fun he had despite wearing half of his so-called creation when the wheel went haywire.
“Looks like a huge rainstorm is imminent,” he finally said, so sure that she’d continue rescuing every escaping drip without comment.
“Good! I hope it pours,” another lick. “It’ll wash the clay off your clothes.”
“True.” Looking out at the lone, wooden toy sailboat in the pool, he reflected on how he’d felt that way for so long, but today, he didn’t.
“Don’t you like your gelato?”
“It’s good.”
“Mine is amazing!” Another lick. “You wanna try?”
“Hell no!” He vehemently shook his head. Lizzy was never a vanilla type of girl; that was one of the things he loved about her, but her choices today were insane.
“When I think of all the things out of your comfort zone that you experienced today, I’m shocked you still went for two scoops of boring vanilla.”
“That’s me. I’m just a vanilla or chocolate kinda guy.”
“C’mon, be daring, at least try the lavender flavor.” She held out the cone close enough for him to inhale the interesting bouquet of lavender and wasabi.
