“I thought we were going to your place,” I remark casually. We’re now sitting in the same private dining room at Le Papillon. I eat another small bite of my chicken fricassee. “But the food here is delicious, so it doesn’t really matter.”
“I figured you were hungry, and cooking takes time.” He eats some of his food and sips his red wine. “Besides, I’m sure you enjoy the truffles here. I found it rather amusing to see you indulge in that sweet. I’d like to see it again.” He looks at the remaining chocolate on the table.
I nearly choked. “What?”
He chuckles. “Never mind, precious. We’re still going to my place after this. I can’t let you go home just yet, or would you prefer I drive you home?”
“No!” I utter. “Please, I’ll go with you. We never got a chance to talk about what happened the other day. It’s difficult to talk about that in front of these delicious meals.”
He nods and resumes eating. “As I prefer. How are you coming along with your new song?”
I wince slightly. “I hardly got anything going. I’m distracted by other things.” Things that concern you and Kristoff.“I will not write the scores or the lyrics for you, but you can ask me anything as a professor in your program.”
“I actually considered it, and despite everything I learned from you in class, I kept asking myself, why is it so difficult to write damn lyrics?” I sneer at my own remark. “Why can’t I be like Lora? Do you think there’s something wrong with me?”
“You’re probably overthinking it. Don’t be too hard on yourself. Just relax and let ideas come to you. What inspires you? That is something you can write about.”
What inspires me?
Besides my worries about my studies and life and the anxiousness I feel whenever I see Kristoff, Julian occupies most of my thoughts.
How I wished I could see him and be with him as much as possible. I wanted to tell him everything I was and how long our relationship would last.
I wish I could kiss him or hold his hand in public, tell the world I’m dating the sexiest man alive, be with him without fear of being judged, and, if possible, physically connect with him more and explore his body without feeling embarrassed.
“It seems like I’m making steps backward rather than going forward.”
I eat some more of my food. Thankfully, my bittersweet thoughts had no effect on my taste buds.
“What makes you think that?”
“Because I don’t even recognize myself, as if I’ve reached a dead end.”
“Are you still talking about school?” he probes. “Or about us?”
“Please, don’t get me wrong. I like what we have. I chose this, and I’m happy that someone like you can have feelings for someone like me.”
“Precious, haven’t we talked about this? I told you not to worry about those things.”
“Julian, you spoil me, and I feel like royalty whenever you do, but no matter how much you tell me to relax, I can’t stop thinking about how this will end.”
“You’re afraid of falling for me,” he concludes.
I shrug, biting my lower lip nervously. “It took me a year to accept Kristoff’s feelings, and he still left. The plausible end doesn’t begin with me. I was the one who was always getting my hopes up.”
“You’ve only just tried to put your faith in someone. It isn’t your fault.” He sets down his fork and knife, wipes his mouth, and drags his chair toward mine. “And you’re not getting your hopes up. I’m here, and what we have is real.”
“I’m sorry you had to listen to me whine again.”
“You can whine whenever you want. I like how you’re trying to open up more. It’s possible you’re limiting your creative potential by expecting only certain types of lyrics from yourself.”
I can’t help but stare at his stunning face. I immediately want to touch the symmetry of his beautiful features. “You must find me very boring.”
“Someone who plays music with her heart is never boring. That’s you.” He takes my hand in his and brings my knuckles to his lips. “It’s too guileless and pretentious to say I’ll never leave, but I’m not going anywhere.” His expression turns solemn and sincere.
“You don’t know that.”
“Come on. It isn’t just you who are afraid.” He smiles as his other hand reaches up and tucks my hair behind my ear. “To be honest, I’m trying to read you. The possibility of you going back to Kristoff terrified me.”
I blink. “I said I wasn’t going back to him.”
“I knew I shouldn’t make you choose me, and I don’t want to be selfish with you, but if you left me for him, I’d probably try to take you back.”
I return his smile. “You don’t have to do that.”
“Of course. You chose me, after all.”
“So you’re saying you feel the same way? That you were afraid I’d leave you?” I know it’s foolish to ask, but I need to hear his affirmation.
“I’ve talked about it many times, but it doesn’t seem clear to you. Ms. Anya Scott, you had already fascinated me two years ago, and I didn’t wait so long to let you go. So trust me when I say I’m already captivated by you. Now that I have you, I’m going to make this permanent. Are those words enough to put you at ease?”
My heart swells with joy and tears well up in my eyes. The instrumental music playing over the speakers heightens the circling glee in my gut.
Julian’s statement sounds like a promise as if he’s saying there’s no end to this... that it’s forever...
Is that even possible?
I kiss his cheek quickly. “Thank you very much. Even if we don’t know what the future holds.”
He moves away from me a little, so he can look at me more closely. “You’re right. We don’t. So stop worrying about being alone. Why won’t you tell me what really happened to you so I can understand you better?”
“Maybe I just don’t want you to feel sorry for me. I tried to stand on my own, and this is who I have become.”
The corners of his eyes sparkle. “Then you should be proud of yourself.”
“It’s a tragic story.”
“All of that is in the past. This is who you are now, as you said.” He glances at my almost empty plate. “But are you finished? We can go to the penthouse.”
I haven’t even eaten a few truffles yet. I pout.
“Yeah, sure. I still like your place better.”
“Come now. You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for that.”
We meet Harold again outside to collect our coats, and the gracious head waiter hands me a paper bag with the restaurant’s branding. I thank him, and he beams at us one last time before turning to serve the new customers.
I look inside the paper bag and find a pretty pink and black chocolate truffle box with a red ribbon.
“Julian...”
“I figured you’d like it. It’s seventy percent dark chocolate.”
Without thinking, I throw my arms around his neck, oblivious that we’re still in the restaurant. “Thank you! This is very thoughtful of you.”
He chuckles as he holds me close. “Alright. Let’s get out of here before I try to snatch you in a corner.”
“Oh, right.” I let him go, and then we head out.
But just as we’re about to exit, a woman who looks like a movie star and a man who looks like a movie star walks in.
Her long, straight raven hair makes her look like a haircare model, and she has long, slender legs and a tiny waist draped in a black designer gown. Even the patrons turn their heads to check her out.
My current state of happiness starts to fade.
It’s Stella Pierce.