Chapter Ten
We shared a kiss at the top of the Eiffel Tower, looking out across Paris. The number of people around prevented us from prolonging the kiss as we had the previous night. Neither of us was keen for our romantic moment to be captured for all the world to see on some foreign tourist’s camera.
“Did you know,” Finn asked as we admired the view, “that this held the record as the world’s tallest building when it opened in 1889?”
“I did not.”
“Although, its height changes depending on the season.” He laughed at my slight frown. “It changes by thirteen inches.”
“That’s a lot of inches.”
He winked. “Isn’t it? More than any man needs.”
As I wasn’t ready to pop a boner at one of the world’s most visited tourist destinations, I quickly brought the conversation back to the original point. “Go on, explain.”
Finn slid a hand into mine and my heart skipped a beat, him instigating the intimacy making me miss the first part of what he’d said.
“…iron.”
“Iron,” I repeated dumbly.
“It expands and contracts depending on the temperature. So in summer, it can be seven inches taller, and in winter when it’s cold, it can be six inches shorter. Thirteen inches.”
“I can do the maths,” I said with a smile. “I might just be an advertising schmuck, rather than someone who works with numbers, but even I can work out the difference between seven and negative six.”
“Just thought I’d help you out. And I don’t think the founder of a successful business gets to describe themselves as a schmuck.”
“Maybe not,” I conceded. “Amrita calls me far worse on a daily basis though.”
“How did you two meet?” Finn asked. “I know she’s far more than a PA to you. More like your right-hand woman and your advisor. And I suspect her wages are far superior to that of the average PA.”
I laughed at that. “That’s true. Sometimes if I piss her off, she’ll ask for a raise. The record is four salary hikes in a single year. Small ones. But add them together and they were pretty hefty.” A gust of wind blew, our position at eight hundred and three meters, making it feel more like a gale. I automatically pulled Finn into my body to shelter him from the worst of its effects.
“My hero,” he said with a laugh. “What are you going to take on next for me? Rain? Hail? Snow?”
“Next time, I’ll let you be blown off the side.” I was laughing, too, though. And the best thing was that Finn hadn’t stepped back, his body a heated line against mine through the layers of our clothing. I wrapped an arm around him and kept him there, rubbing slow circles over his shoulder blade with my thumb. This was better than sex. Way better. Because sex was something you could do with anyone. Whereas true romantic feelings were far rarer. Not that my dreams hadn’t been full of what-if scenarios after last night. What if I hadn’t left Finn alone and gone upstairs with him instead? What if I’d listened to him on that last day and given him an opportunity to tell me what was bothering him?
There was no changing the past, though. Whether that was minutes ago, hours ago, or months. There was only living in the present. The right here and right now. And it felt like I was getting better at being able to appreciate it for what it was.
“Is there a reason you’re not answering my question about Amrita? Did the two of you have a torrid affair you don’t want me to know about?”
“Good God, no! She’d eat me alive.” It was noticeable that Finn didn’t argue. “In the early days of the agency, I did all my best thinking at a local coffee shop. I used to get a table in the back and work on storyboards for campaigns.” I smiled at the memory of a life a million miles away from the one I lived now. In many respects, I’d been just as happy. Maybe even happier.
Finn’s slight frown said he didn’t know how the two things linked. “She worked there,” I explained. “She always seemed to get stuck with the night shift, so our paths crossed frequently. Some nights, particularly when the weather was bad, only the two of us were in there. One night, she got bored enough that she sat down and asked what I was doing. And you’ve met Amrita. She was no different when she was younger. She was just as opinionated back then as she is now. So she had zero qualms in telling me what she thought of my ideas. I scrapped entire campaigns and went back to the drawing board just because she told me something was crap.” I smiled. “And on those rare occasions when her eyes lit up, and she began talking with her hands, I knew I was onto something. She became my best sounding board. And nine times out of ten, she was right. I don’t know if I’d have been as successful without her in my corner.”
Another gust of wind blew, and I gathered Finn close again, Finn just smirking this time. “And to cut a long story short, we both reached the same conclusion after a few months, that she was far better at what I did than at what she did, so I offered her a job.”
Finn nodded slowly. “Sounds more like you should have made her a partner.”
“I tried,” I said with a laugh. “But she wasn’t having it. She said she didn’t have the right qualifications, that people wouldn’t take her seriously. Instead, she turned herself into my secret weapon. Her words,” I added when Finn raised an eyebrow at the terminology. “You have no idea the things people are prepared to say in front of a PA that they wouldn’t say if they realized she runs straight to me and tells me everything.”
“Clever,” Finn said with something close to admiration in his voice. “It’s a shame you’re not straight, you could have married her.”
“Except she’s not straight either.”
“No?” Finn seemed genuinely surprised by the notion. “I’m going to have to take my gaydar in for a servicing.”
“You should,” I agreed. “She’s had the same girlfriend for six years. The two of them are ridiculously happy together. It’s enough to drive people crazy with jealousy.”
“Even you?” Finn queried with a glint in his eye that dared me to tell the truth.
“Before… no. But more recently…”
“How recent?”
“Tell me some more facts about the Eiffel Tower. Astound me with your knowledge.”
“You think I won’t know any more, don’t you?”
“Maybe.”
Finn thought for a moment. “It was yellow at one point. They painted it to preserve the iron. Guess how many painters it takes to paint it.”
“A lot.”
“That’s not a number.”
“You and your numbers,” I teased.
“Guess.”
“Thirty.”
“Higher.”
“Forty.”
“Higher.”
“A hundred.”
Finn sighed. “Too high. You should have continued with your strategy.”
“I wasn’t aware I had one.”
Finn rolled his eyes. “Thirty… Forty… what comes next?”
“Fifty.”
He let go of my hand to give me a slow handclap. “Well done.”
I gave a mock bow. “Thank you. I can’t even remember what the question was now.”
“Number of painters.”
“Right.” While we took the stairs back down to the second level, Finn regaled me with more facts, including that the tower had taken two years, two months and five days to build, and that Hitler had ordered its destruction during the second world war, but that the man tasked with carrying it out had been so shocked, he hadn’t done it.
“You should be a tour guide,” I said once we reached the bottom of the one thousand six hundred and sixty-five steps. I hadn’t counted them; it had been another one of Finn’s facts.
“I’ve probably bored you to tears.”
“You haven’t,” I said, my answer coming as something of a surprise even to me. It was true, though. I could listen to Finn talk about anything he was enthusiastic about. So why didn’t you? Why didn’t you ever spend a lazy Saturday morning with him in bed and just talk about stuff that didn’t really matter? Picturing that scenario and the way it should have gone had an ache forming in my chest that no amount of rubbing would ease.
“Now what?” Finn asked as we walked away from the Eiffel Tower.
“Your choice.”
Finn’s choice turned out to be a restaurant we stumbled across down a side street. “See,” he said once I’d enthused heartily over the food. “There are plenty of places without a Michelin star where you can get a perfectly good meal. And you get a decent amount of food on your plate without re-mortgaging your house.”
“No Michelin starred restaurants,” I drawled. “Duly noted. I should have taken you to Burger King.”
Finn smiled. “I wouldn’t have complained. They do good milkshakes.”
I shook my head in mock reproach. “A milkshake. Who even are you?”
Finn grinned unabashedly. “The same person I always was. You just needed to look past the seemingly cultured exterior to the boy inside who’s never grown up and has a bit of a sweet tooth.”
I propped my chin on my hand and studied him. “More like I got lost in your eyes and couldn’t see anything beyond that.”
Finn groaned. “Oh, please. Don’t start getting cheesy, or I’ll have to get up and walk out.”
“What country are you going to this time?” I grimaced. “Sorry. That was a low blow.”
“It was,” Finn agreed. “And it broke our embargo not to rake up the past.” He softened his words by smiling. “Besides, If I’ve learned one thing from you following me here, it’s that next time I need to make sure no one knows where I’m going.”
He might have meant it as a joke, but the thought of such a thing happening was still wounding. Searching for a distraction, I focused on the small dance floor at the center of the restaurant, a live band having played enthusiastically ever since we arrived. Most of the songs were instrumental only, but every now and again, a female singer stepped in to provide husky vocals in French.
“What’s she singing about?” Finn asked, following my gaze.
I listened for a moment, my smile wry once I worked it out. “Love. It’s a song about two estranged lovers who never seem to be in the right place at the right time.” There were only two couples on the dance floor, their demeanors a complete contrast. While the older couple didn’t look like they gave two hoots what anyone thought, the younger pair had an air of embarrassment about their movements. They were still brave enough to get up in front of everyone and give it a go, though.
“Dance with me,” I said on impulse.
Finn laughed. “Yeah, right?”
“I’m serious. Why not?”
“Because… I can’t dance. And neither can…” Finn stopped abruptly, his brow creasing. “Can you dance?”
“Not really.” My gaze strayed back to the younger couple. They’d loosened up a bit, more interested in staring into each other’s eyes. “But we should challenge ourselves sometimes. Try something new.”
“Great. Good advice. I’ll book a pottery class. Or go to Zumba.”
“Dance with me, Finlay Ian Prescott.” I stood and held out a hand.
Finn tipped his head back and stared up at me, his eyes narrowed. “When did I ever tell you my middle name?”
I shrugged. “No idea, but you must have done. Or how would I know it?”
“If I did, I’m surprised you were listening.”
“Baggage,” I chided him. “You know what isn’t baggage? Dancing. We’ve never done that before.” I waggled my fingers at Finn. “Come on. What’s the worst that can happen?”
“I could trip over and fall flat on my face and people will laugh. And it’ll somehow get back to my workplace. And then they’ll laugh. I have to live here. You don’t.”
“I’ll buy you a milkshake,” I said with a wink.
“Oh well, in that case.” He took hold of my hand and let me tug him to his feet. “If we get homophobic abuse aimed at us and end up in a fight, I’m letting you know now that I’ll be informing the police that it’s one hundred percent your fault.”
“Only if they speak English,” I pointed out as I pulled him onto the floor and into my arms. Neither of us really knew how to dance, but it didn’t take us long to figure out that being plastered together and moving semi-rhythmically was enough. There were no homophobic insults thrown our way. In fact, I was pretty sure that at one point someone said “aww” as I gained enough courage to spin Finn around.
“This isn’t so bad,” he finally admitted once we’d been there for about ten minutes and neither of us had tripped over the other’s feet.
“We should take dance classes,” I said. “I think we’ve got a natural aptitude for it.”
“You do, do you?” Finn was laughing, the green eyes alight with mirth making something clench in my chest. “I’m not sure I’d go that far.”
“We could learn to…” I cast about for the name of a dance. “I don’t know, do the tango or something.”
“The tango!” Finn tipped his head back. “U-huh. What else?”
“The waltz.” He arched an eyebrow, challenging me to come up with more. “The… fandango.”
“Not a dance.”
“Not yet. But we could invent it. It’ll become the world’s biggest dance with both old and young desperate to learn how to do it. A dance craze like no other.”
“There’s the ad exec we know and love,” Finn said with a slight eye-roll. “Always looking to sell something as the greatest thing. Even if it doesn’t exist yet.”
There was no arguing with him, so I kissed him instead, more kissing than dancing happening from that point onwards. There were moments where we almost forgot we needed to keep it PG13, both of us laughing when we had to cool things. As ideas went, it was the cherry on top of what had already been a perfect weekend.
I waited until the last possible moment to spoil it, the twinkling lights of Paris our companion, as we walked hand in hand toward Finn’s building. “I have to go back to London soon,” I said.