I waved a dismissive hand. “Never mind. Tell me why you like older men. I’m interested. Unless, of course, you don’t, and you simply said it as an attempt to make light of the nine-year age difference between us.”
“Eight,” Luke said, in the first sign of having a spine. “You’re not thirty yet.”
I inclined my head in recognition of his point and when Luke fell silent, went back to eating my steak.
“Okay…” he finally said. “I admit it was a throwaway statement. I likeyou, though.”
I stopped chewing for a few seconds before restarting the motion. It was endearing of him to put all his cards on the table. Ill-advised when I hadn’t given him so much as a modicum of encouragement, but endearing all the same. “At the risk of sounding like I only know the one word. Why?”
“You’re handsome.” I didn’t roll my eyes, but it took a considerable amount of effort not to do so. “You’re self-assured.You seem to know exactly what you want from life. You don’t care what people think about you.”
“Appearances can be deceiving.”
“Are you saying you do care what people think about you?”
I thought about it for a few seconds, turning it over, and running through my latest interactions, both at work and out of it. “I guess that would depend on who it is.”
Luke gave a thoughtful nod. “Tell me one person it would bother you to upset?”
There was a straightforward answer. Finn. If I didn’t care, I wouldn’t be here now. I would have simply told him what he could do with his unwarranted fears of me dying alone, and not put myself through this. Unfortunately, recounting that would upset Luke. I was mean, but I wasn’tthatmean.
Avoiding mentioning Finn forced me to reveal something deeper about myself. “My father is a drunk. Did Finn or Cillian tell you that?” Luke’s expression gave him away without him needing to answer. “Ah, I see they did.” I lifted my glass in an ironic toast before taking a big swallow. “It bothers me when I upset him. Yet, we’re locked in this perpetual cycle, where I have no choice. It’s that or enable him. I might not be able to stop him from drinking, but I won’t bankroll him killing himself.”
Luke’s throat bobbed, and the process of him trying to find the right words to a revelation like that went on for some time before I took pity on him. “So… handsome and self-assured. Is that it? What about my exquisite taste in fashion? What about my undying loyalty to my friends? What about how good I am at my job?”
Luke muttered something, and I leaned forward. “What was that?”
“Your accent,” he repeated, only slightly louder than the first time. “The French accent is just so damn sexy.”
I sat back in my chair, disappointed he couldn’t manage anything more inventive. But then, disappointed was my default state these days.
The waiter arrived to take our plates and while he busied himself with a balancing act that was nothing short of impressive, I surveyed the restaurant. My gaze settled on a loved-up heterosexual couple by the window who could barely take their eyes off each other.
How long had it been since my last serious relationship? Three years? Four? Definitely before my mother’s death. She’d been so ill prior to her passing that I hadn’t had the time nor the energy for anything beyond a snatched one-night-stand, and even that had become impossible once she’d gone into a hospice. And somewhere along the way, that had become the norm.
So much so that when a drunken Finn had kissed me soon after his arrival in Paris, I hadn’t even considered him as a possibility. Neither had I been giving these dates the focus they deserved. After all, it wasn’t like they’d paired me with just anyone. They’d all been handsome men, polite and charming in their own way. The fault definitely lay with me. And maybe I would be alone forever if I didn’t start making more effort.
“I won’t get a second date, will I?”
I tugged my attention away from the couple, the man having taken hold of the woman’s hand in a way that made her smile from ear to ear, and focused back on Luke. I forced myself to look at him properly. He was cute, and no doubt once he overcame some of his nerves and relaxed a bit, he’d be even cuter. He could hold a conversation, even if it had taken a rather bizarre turn into marriage that neither he nor I could explain. He looked to have a good body from what I could tell. I could definitely do worse.
Too young. Too fresh. Too nice. Not French.Admittedly, the latter was rather xenophobic of me, but it was nice to speak yournative language to your significant other, and it definitely helped when living in the same country wasn’t a huge logistical pain.
We couldn’t all be Cillian, whose ownership of a mega successful business had made it a straightforward process to move to France. That, and him delegating the task to his PA Amrita who, from what I’d heard about her, could convince the sky to renounce its blueness and turn pink, if she put her mind to it.
“No,” I said. “Sorry. Don’t think of it as a rejection. Think of it as an escape. My life is messy. Finn and Cillian think if they pair me with someone, that they’ll sweep in and rescue me. They’ve been watching too many rom-coms.”
Luke nodded, but there was no mistaking the air of hurt he carried. Despite my words, he obviously took it as a rejection. He let out a breath. “Is this where you leave me sitting here on my own?”
A reluctant smile crept onto my lips at the sad picture he’d painted. “I think you might have been watching too many rom-coms, as well.”
“Probably,” Luke admitted. “But if you want to leave?”
I thought about it, the easy out appreciated. I could leave him with enough euros to cover the meal and hightail it out of here.And do what instead?I shook my head. “We can finish our meal. The desserts here are delicious. It would be a shame to miss out.”
“I don’t normally have dessert on a date.”
I regarded him quizzically. “Why not?”
