arms over his chest and looking at her thoughtfully.
“Yes.”
“Are you still?” he asked.
“No,” she answered, though the blunt sound of her denial felt oversimplified or maybe even cowardly, and it sat like rotten egg smell on her lips, making her wrinkle her nose. It felt like a half-truth or a third-lie or just not the right word at all. She pushed back on this feeling as hard as she could, and added, “I think he’s a jackass.”
“No arguments here.”
“Anyway, there’s Tony, and he’s—”
“Yeah, Tony. He seems nice.”
“He is nice.” And eventually, one day when he’s ready, he will draw me into his elegant arms, and—
“So, you two are…serious?”
Kate paused before answering. Were they? She and Tony had been more or less exclusive for weeks, but it didn’t feel serious. Sometimes it didn’t even feel substantial enough to be relevant. Tony certainly hadn’t made her feel—yet, she still had hopes—the way that Étienne made her feel all those years ago. Then again , no one had ever made Kate feel as Étienne had. Despite several college boyfriends and a serious relationship a few years ago in New York, memories of Étienne still felt more vibrant than real life.
Which is why you need to be reminded of how things ended, not how they began.
“I don’t know,” she said cautiously, offering Barrett a small smile as she answered his question about Tony. “We’ll see.”
They lapsed into silence, but despite her best efforts, her mind wouldn’t settle, as one heart-thumping thought circled round and round in her brain: in a matter of minutes she’d be face-to-face with the man to whom she’d willingly and lovingly surrendered her virginity.
Looking through the rain-covered window, Kate thought of the last time she ever saw his face in person: She’d turned and looked back at him once more before slipping through the hedge and returning to her aunt and uncle’s house. Her body had still been warm from his, the space between her legs tender, her skin sensitive, and her heart thundering. The way he’d gazed at her, with such profound tenderness and wonder as she waved goodbye, had made her eyes brim with tears of gratitude and love. It had been pure hell to leave him, but she had forced one foot in front of the other, secure in the knowledge that even though she’d leave for New York in the morning, and despite the guaranteed disapproval of her parents if they ever found out, her love story with Étienne was just beginning.
She winced at her blurry reflection. Later she’d discovered—over the silent days and weeks that followed—that it wasn’t beginning at all. In fact, their short romance was already over.
And yet, she couldn’t help wondering as she watched the drops of rain slip soundlessly down the glass like so many tears…Would he still speak in that low, silky, accented voice that had so captivated her as a teenager? Would his hair still be black and thick, tousled and unruly like he just rolled out of bed? Would he tease her with backhanded compliments and sexy smirks? Would his eyes seize hers as they used to, searching and direct?
Would he recognize her?
Would he be kind?
“We’re here, Kate.”
She looked up as they stopped in front of a nondescript office building. Barrett paid the fare, and Kate stepped out of the cab, taking a deep breath. Barrett opened an umbrella, placing his hand under her elbow as they walked briskly across the wet sidewalk and up the steps to the office building lobby.
Stepping off the elevator on the fourth floor, they were greeted by glass doors directly in front of them that read Rousseau Trust . As Barrett pushed the door open for his cousin, he leaned down and whispered in her ear, “Breathe. It’s just business.”
Kate smiled at him gratefully, steeling her resolve to put forth only the most professional demeanor with Étienne, regardless of their history.
“Good afternoon,” said an administrative
“Yes.”
“Are you still?” he asked.
“No,” she answered, though the blunt sound of her denial felt oversimplified or maybe even cowardly, and it sat like rotten egg smell on her lips, making her wrinkle her nose. It felt like a half-truth or a third-lie or just not the right word at all. She pushed back on this feeling as hard as she could, and added, “I think he’s a jackass.”
“No arguments here.”
“Anyway, there’s Tony, and he’s—”
“Yeah, Tony. He seems nice.”
“He is nice.” And eventually, one day when he’s ready, he will draw me into his elegant arms, and—
“So, you two are…serious?”
Kate paused before answering. Were they? She and Tony had been more or less exclusive for weeks, but it didn’t feel serious. Sometimes it didn’t even feel substantial enough to be relevant. Tony certainly hadn’t made her feel—yet, she still had hopes—the way that Étienne made her feel all those years ago. Then again , no one had ever made Kate feel as Étienne had. Despite several college boyfriends and a serious relationship a few years ago in New York, memories of Étienne still felt more vibrant than real life.
Which is why you need to be reminded of how things ended, not how they began.
“I don’t know,” she said cautiously, offering Barrett a small smile as she answered his question about Tony. “We’ll see.”
They lapsed into silence, but despite her best efforts, her mind wouldn’t settle, as one heart-thumping thought circled round and round in her brain: in a matter of minutes she’d be face-to-face with the man to whom she’d willingly and lovingly surrendered her virginity.
Looking through the rain-covered window, Kate thought of the last time she ever saw his face in person: She’d turned and looked back at him once more before slipping through the hedge and returning to her aunt and uncle’s house. Her body had still been warm from his, the space between her legs tender, her skin sensitive, and her heart thundering. The way he’d gazed at her, with such profound tenderness and wonder as she waved goodbye, had made her eyes brim with tears of gratitude and love. It had been pure hell to leave him, but she had forced one foot in front of the other, secure in the knowledge that even though she’d leave for New York in the morning, and despite the guaranteed disapproval of her parents if they ever found out, her love story with Étienne was just beginning.
She winced at her blurry reflection. Later she’d discovered—over the silent days and weeks that followed—that it wasn’t beginning at all. In fact, their short romance was already over.
And yet, she couldn’t help wondering as she watched the drops of rain slip soundlessly down the glass like so many tears…Would he still speak in that low, silky, accented voice that had so captivated her as a teenager? Would his hair still be black and thick, tousled and unruly like he just rolled out of bed? Would he tease her with backhanded compliments and sexy smirks? Would his eyes seize hers as they used to, searching and direct?
Would he recognize her?
Would he be kind?
“We’re here, Kate.”
She looked up as they stopped in front of a nondescript office building. Barrett paid the fare, and Kate stepped out of the cab, taking a deep breath. Barrett opened an umbrella, placing his hand under her elbow as they walked briskly across the wet sidewalk and up the steps to the office building lobby.
Stepping off the elevator on the fourth floor, they were greeted by glass doors directly in front of them that read Rousseau Trust . As Barrett pushed the door open for his cousin, he leaned down and whispered in her ear, “Breathe. It’s just business.”
Kate smiled at him gratefully, steeling her resolve to put forth only the most professional demeanor with Étienne, regardless of their history.
“Good afternoon,” said an administrative
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