photographer with an ego the size of Notre Dame.
“Anyway, sorry to interrupt you two,” I said again, excusing myself. I had dozens more chocolate-chip cookies in the back room. And my professional waitstaff had professionally disappeared promptly at eleven o’clock.
I walked through the thinning crowd back to the private room Solange had set aside for me. After slipping my hands into plastic gloves, I began arranging the cookies in artful patterns on the empty trays. The door opened.
“Oh, good,” I said, not looking up from my work. “At least I’ve got one waiter left. Let’s get rid of these. Just grab any full tray. Tell people to take the cookies home to their kids.”
“Oh,” a voice said. “All right.”
I looked up. It was Andrew.
“Oh, God, I’m sorry!” I said. “I thought you were one of my waiters.” I cringed at the thought of what I must look like in the harsh light of the utilitarian room. Haggard and witchy, no doubt. An old bag.
“I can help,” Andrew said, smiling.
“No, no,” I said. “I really thought you were one of the—”
But he’d already grabbed a tray of cookies.
“Thank you,” I said. I grabbed a tray myself and headed back to the dwindling crowd in the reception area. I made a beeline for Solange.
“I cannot believe you didn’t tell me about Andrew,” I whispered. “He’s fabulous.”
“Yes, he is nice,” Solange said distractedly.
“ Nice? Hello? He’s so damn nice, I’m jealous.”
Solange stared at me. “Jealous? Of what?”
“Of you ,” I said.
Solange looked puzzled. “Me and Andrew?” Then she smiled. “Daisy, I have been seeing a sculptor named Maria Luciana for six months.”
“Maria?” I said. “Luciana?”
“Yes. You’d like her.”
I didn’t know what to say. Fortunately, we both started cackling at the exact same second.
“You know what?” I finally said. “We don’t talk enough anymore, do we?”
“No, we do not,” Solange said. “But if you are interested in Andrew, go get him. He is over there, serving your chocolate chimps .”
CHAPTER 33
Webb
I somehow forgot about my idea to give Coco a sparkler the first time we kissed. Then again, I hadn’t planned on kissing her on both cheeks. I was just going with the flow and following my instincts.
“I can carry that,” Coco said, as we were walking out of the train station. She was eyeing her bag.
“Don’t be crazy,” I said. “I’m the guy.”
I was trying to sound funny and macho, but it fell flat. Less instinct, I thought. More thinking. Think before talking.
“Do you have anything special you want to see?” Coco asked. “Or do you want to just wander around?”
“Um, well . . .” Should I let her lead the way? Or should I tell her what I want to see?
“Is the Eiffel Tower cool?” I asked.
“Umm,” she said, running her hands through her shiny brown hair. “You know it’s kind of a tourist trap, right? When it was first built, Parisians hated it and wanted it torn down.”
“Serious?” I said. “I didn’t know that. Okay, what about . . .”
“But if you want to see it, we could take the Metro over there. It might be too late to go up in it, but—”
“No, let’s . . . um . . .” Damn. I should’ve given this whole thing more thought. Why didn’t I do a Wiki search on Paris? “I’m pretty much up for anything. My dad brought me here once when I was like nine or ten, but I don’t remember anything.”
“My mom did the same thing, when I was even younger,” she said. “But I’ve read all the guidebooks and memorized the maps. Let’s take the Metro to Saint Michel and just wander around the Latin Quarter.”
“Cool,” I said.
Why did everything I say sound so dumb and uninspired?
“We can catch the Metro right over there,” Coco said, leading the way. “Oh, wait. What about my bag? You don’t want to drag it all over town.”
“I don’t mind,” I said.
Okay, that sounded pathetic. Of course
“Anyway, sorry to interrupt you two,” I said again, excusing myself. I had dozens more chocolate-chip cookies in the back room. And my professional waitstaff had professionally disappeared promptly at eleven o’clock.
I walked through the thinning crowd back to the private room Solange had set aside for me. After slipping my hands into plastic gloves, I began arranging the cookies in artful patterns on the empty trays. The door opened.
“Oh, good,” I said, not looking up from my work. “At least I’ve got one waiter left. Let’s get rid of these. Just grab any full tray. Tell people to take the cookies home to their kids.”
“Oh,” a voice said. “All right.”
I looked up. It was Andrew.
“Oh, God, I’m sorry!” I said. “I thought you were one of my waiters.” I cringed at the thought of what I must look like in the harsh light of the utilitarian room. Haggard and witchy, no doubt. An old bag.
“I can help,” Andrew said, smiling.
“No, no,” I said. “I really thought you were one of the—”
But he’d already grabbed a tray of cookies.
“Thank you,” I said. I grabbed a tray myself and headed back to the dwindling crowd in the reception area. I made a beeline for Solange.
“I cannot believe you didn’t tell me about Andrew,” I whispered. “He’s fabulous.”
“Yes, he is nice,” Solange said distractedly.
“ Nice? Hello? He’s so damn nice, I’m jealous.”
Solange stared at me. “Jealous? Of what?”
“Of you ,” I said.
Solange looked puzzled. “Me and Andrew?” Then she smiled. “Daisy, I have been seeing a sculptor named Maria Luciana for six months.”
“Maria?” I said. “Luciana?”
“Yes. You’d like her.”
I didn’t know what to say. Fortunately, we both started cackling at the exact same second.
“You know what?” I finally said. “We don’t talk enough anymore, do we?”
“No, we do not,” Solange said. “But if you are interested in Andrew, go get him. He is over there, serving your chocolate chimps .”
CHAPTER 33
Webb
I somehow forgot about my idea to give Coco a sparkler the first time we kissed. Then again, I hadn’t planned on kissing her on both cheeks. I was just going with the flow and following my instincts.
“I can carry that,” Coco said, as we were walking out of the train station. She was eyeing her bag.
“Don’t be crazy,” I said. “I’m the guy.”
I was trying to sound funny and macho, but it fell flat. Less instinct, I thought. More thinking. Think before talking.
“Do you have anything special you want to see?” Coco asked. “Or do you want to just wander around?”
“Um, well . . .” Should I let her lead the way? Or should I tell her what I want to see?
“Is the Eiffel Tower cool?” I asked.
“Umm,” she said, running her hands through her shiny brown hair. “You know it’s kind of a tourist trap, right? When it was first built, Parisians hated it and wanted it torn down.”
“Serious?” I said. “I didn’t know that. Okay, what about . . .”
“But if you want to see it, we could take the Metro over there. It might be too late to go up in it, but—”
“No, let’s . . . um . . .” Damn. I should’ve given this whole thing more thought. Why didn’t I do a Wiki search on Paris? “I’m pretty much up for anything. My dad brought me here once when I was like nine or ten, but I don’t remember anything.”
“My mom did the same thing, when I was even younger,” she said. “But I’ve read all the guidebooks and memorized the maps. Let’s take the Metro to Saint Michel and just wander around the Latin Quarter.”
“Cool,” I said.
Why did everything I say sound so dumb and uninspired?
“We can catch the Metro right over there,” Coco said, leading the way. “Oh, wait. What about my bag? You don’t want to drag it all over town.”
“I don’t mind,” I said.
Okay, that sounded pathetic. Of course
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