Chapter Seventeen #3
“I would love to.” The words were out of her mouth before she could censor herself, because the fact was, she would love to.
She wanted to enjoy a meal with this deep-voiced, charmingly hesitant, beautiful man.
She wanted to forget for a little while what she was going through and remember instead what it felt like to be a woman.
She wanted to be looked at the way he was looking at her now.
He exhaled dramatically. “Phew. I was afraid you were going to say no and I’d have to sit at my own table, awkwardly pretending I wouldn’t rather be with you.” He beckoned to the bartender, who grabbed two menus and began to make his way over to them.
“I’m really sorry I didn’t call,” she said.
“And I’ll just pretend I wasn’t checking my phone every few minutes like a middle schooler with a crush,” he said, and then arched an eyebrow at her as the bartender showed them to a table in the corner. Julia was glad for the dim lighting, because she was certain she was blushing furiously.
“What can I get you two?” the bartender asked.
Julia ordered a kir royale, and Sam shrugged and asked for the same. As the bartender hurried off, Julia looked back at Sam. “I really am sorry. I’m in kind of a complicated situation.”
“Ah.” Sam leaned back. “I’m sorry. I know you mentioned a daughter, but are you also here in Paris with a boyfriend or a husband, or…?”
“No,” Julia said instantly. “I haven’t had either one of those things in a very long time.”
“Me neither,” Sam said, then laughed and amended, “A girlfriend or wife, I mean.”
Julia didn’t know why that made her feel so much better. “My daughter’s got this flirtation going with a cute French waiter, so…”
“She’s twenty-three, you said?” Sam laughed. “God, it’s so easy when you’re young, isn’t it? Not so much when you’re fifty-five.”
“Forty-nine,” Julia said, raising her hand.
“Fortunately, we don’t look a day over thirty,” Sam said, and then they both burst out laughing.
“These days,” Julia said as the bartender delivered their drinks and then slipped away, “I feel every one of those years. But I wouldn’t change it for the world. The chance to have had all this time, you know?”
She felt instantly silly for being so sappy, but Sam was nodding vehemently.
“I know exactly what you mean. When I was in my twenties, I thought getting older would be the worst thing that could happen to me. Turns out, though, that along with giving me all these laugh lines, it also made me into a different kind of person. I was not the most mature or self-aware twentysomething.”
She laughed. “I don’t think anyone is supposed to be mature or self-aware in their twenties.” She took a sip of her wine. “And for the record, I like your laugh lines.” She swallowed hard; had she gone too far?
But his face softened and his gaze held hers for a long moment. “And I like everything about you so far, Julia.”
“You don’t even know me yet.”
“But I’d like to,” Sam said. The bartender returned to take their food orders—fish and chips for both of them, and a bottle of wine to share—and as he walked away, Sam added, “I hope that’s not too forward.”
“No,” Julia said, looking into his honey-gold eyes, and she was struck again with a sudden sense of familiarity that disappeared before she could put a finger on it. “So, Sam, what brings you to Paris? You mentioned work?”
He shifted in his seat and took a long sip of his kir royale. “Yeah. I, um, have a work thing this week a little bit northwest of Paris, but I’m staying in the city. How about you? What do you do?”
“I am—was—in advertising for a local paper back home.”
“Was?” he asked, tilting his head to the side.
“I’m taking a hiatus.” She was almost relieved that he’d been vague about his job, because it allowed her to do the same. “So where in the States are you from?”
“Born and raised in Cleveland,” he said with a smile, “but I’ve been in Los Angeles the past thirty years or so. You?”
She shook her head in disbelief. “I’m from the Columbus area. Worthington.”
He stared at her. “My mom was from twenty minutes away in Bexley.”
“You’re kidding me.”
“What are the odds?”
The bartender hurried out then with two steaming baskets of fish and chips balanced on a tray with a bottle of white wine, two glasses, a bottle of ketchup, and a bottle of malt vinegar.
In the moment it took him to get the food served and to open the wine for them, Julia couldn’t stop staring at Sam, and it seemed that he, too, was just as powerless to look away.
“Hey,” he said after they’d both thanked the bartender and he’d left them alone, “after we eat, is there any chance you might like to walk around with me for a bit? Maybe get a coffee or something?”
Julia hesitated, the yes she wanted to say caught in her throat.
“Please?” Sam added after she’d been quiet for too long, his forehead creasing beneath the brim of his cap. “There’s no place in the world like Paris in the moonlight. It’s been a really long time since I’ve had the chance to share that with someone.”
“Okay,” Julia said, her heart forcing the word out of her mouth before she could stop it.
Sam grinned at her. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” She smiled back, and for a moment, as she stared into the eyes of someone she wished she’d met decades ago, she could imagine that she was someone whose best days lay ahead of her rather than behind.