Chapter 13 Aliénor
ALIéNOR
His driver took us to La Crêperie Saint-Honoré, a casual place that served savory galettes and sweet crepes from morning until night. Luca got us a table inside near the window, and we sat down like this was the most normal thing in the world.
He immediately ordered an espresso before the waiter had a chance to say anything.
I remembered that nights were his mornings, so starting with an espresso made sense. I ordered a glass of wine because I couldn’t think of anything else, still in shock this was happening.
He sat there and stared at me like he’d asked me a question when he hadn’t said a word. It was an identical interaction to the ones that had happened in our previous conversations. Like he didn’t want to be there.
But he’d asked me to be here, so he did.
It was quiet so long that the waiter had time to bring us the espresso and the wine, and then he asked what we wanted to order.
“Saint-Honoré,” Luca said without looking at the menu once, like he’d been here many times. It was a galette with steak and bacon, with sour cream with ratatouille sauce and a sunny-side-up egg splashed on top, wrapped in a crunchy crepe.
I looked at the menu and picked the first thing I saw. “Parmentière.”
The waiter took the menus and departed.
The inside of the restaurant was empty, but the patio had people everywhere so they could smoke their cigarettes.
He continued to look at me. He clearly wanted me there, but he didn’t know what to do now that he had me.
I decided to open the conversation. “How have you been?”
He gave a shrug. “Busy.”
I gave a slow nod. “Busy with work?”
“President Martin was confronted with a challenge to the country’s pension plan, and I had to negotiate different tariffs to supplement support.
They were irritated, but because I’d recently killed a dozen of them for turning on the Republic, they were cooperative.
Then I had a dinner party to celebrate the achievement, but I’d honestly rather eat a bucket of escargot than suffer through that again. ”
“You don’t like escargot?”
“I like steak.”
He gave me more information than he ever had before, so it seemed like he was trying to participate in the conversation. He just wasn’t very good at it.
“What about you?” He crossed his arms over his chest, his biceps naturally flexing through his sleeves.
“It’s weird, honestly. I make dinner in my apartment and read a book on the couch and listen to the rain…and I can’t remember the last time my life felt…easy? Normal? Peaceful? I’m not even sure how to describe it.”
His head tilted slightly, and his stare deepened in its absorbency. Men listened to me when I talked, but Luca had the focus of a laser. He didn’t listen to reply—he listened to understand.
“I keep waiting for it to disappear because happiness has been a very fleeting emotion for me the last eight years. Hard to even enjoy it because it’s almost worse to have something you don’t want to lose instead of having nothing at all.”
“You aren’t going to lose it.”
“I know. It’ll just take time for me to accept that.”
His espresso steamed in front of him, and he eventually reached for it and took a drink. “What’s next for you?”
“A job, hopefully.”
“Do you want a job for money, or is there a career you’re passionate about?”
“Well, I applied to work as an intern for Diamant and got an interview. I’m still in the running for the position, but I’m not sure what will happen. Not a lot of people can afford to work for free, so hopefully that works in my favor.”
“Then why apply?”
“Well, I’ve always loved fashion. I planned on attending university in Milan for fashion, but then my life went to shit. If I get it, I’ll go back to Septime because they’re only open for dinner, just to pay the bills. I’ll eventually get promoted at Diamant…hopefully.”
The deep stare continued like he hung on every word. “And then what?”
“I don’t know. Meet someone and settle down. Have a couple of kids. But before I can turn the page and start a new chapter like that, I have to close the old one.”
“Meaning?”
“I have unfinished business.” Would I be able to start my own family without honoring the people that I lost? My parents? My sisters? The family that was brutally ripped from me? Maybe my father deserved it for being a traitor, but my mother and my sisters certainly didn’t.
He didn’t ask what that meant, like he already knew.
The food arrived a moment later, two crispy galettes stuffed with sauce and meat with fried eggs on top.
After eating lasagna three days in a row, I was excited to eat something else for a change.
I wasn’t sad to be skipping it when I’d turned off the oven before leaving my apartment. “Wow, this looks good.”
Luca used his knife and fork to slice his into pieces, the egg yolk dripping over the rest of the plate. But he scooped the bites into his mouth quickly, elbows on the table, solely focused on the food and not me. It was as if he hadn’t eaten in days.
Transfixed, I watched him eat and only took a few bites myself because I’d never seen him eat before. “Hungry?” I teased.
“I lifted before I headed over.”
Lifted a car? A tree trunk?
He crossed his arms over his chest and sank back in the chair, watching me eat instead.
“I’m a bit slower than you.”
“I’m in no rush.” He turned and made eye contact with the waiter, who came over a second later. “I’ll take another.”
“Espresso?”
“Galette.”
The waiter left to put the order in.
I cut into my crepe and watched more of the yolk drift across the plate. “Wish I could eat like that.”
“Start lifting and you can.”
“Working out isn’t really my thang, so…”
“Really?” he asked, one eyebrow raised. “You just look like that?”
“Like what?”
His stare hardened on my face.
He didn’t answer, and I continued to eat, feeling self-conscious about shoveling food into my mouth while he stared.
He reached for his espresso and finished it.
Then he continued to stare as if I was talking when I was just eating and eating and eating.
His second galette was eventually delivered, and as with the first, he cut it into pieces and inhaled it like he was still starving.
He finished his second before I finished my first.
Then he blurted out a question. “Are you seeing anyone?”
“What?” I asked blankly.
He didn’t repeat the question.
“Uh, no. Last thing on my mind, honestly.” Because I was too busy finding an apartment. Finding a job. Putting my life back together. Feeling the grief for the first time because it was the only chance I’d had the opportunity to truly feel it.
And because I was touching myself to the memory of the man across from me.
I didn’t ask him the same question in return, not wanting to hear his answer. He probably wouldn’t give details, but I still didn’t want to hear any of it.
The waiter came over with the tab and handed it to Luca.
Luca pulled out his wallet and put the cash on top.
I reached for my wallet to split it.
“Don’t do that.”
I froze at his tone and looked up at him.
He still looked mad.
“And don’t ever do that again.”
Again…?