Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 61922 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61922 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
Those hazel eyes and the charming lilt in his voice stirred butterflies in my stomach and made me dizzy. What was wrong with me?
“I can’t believe I’ve been gone all day.” I rubbed the heel of my hand on my temple and finally braved a peek at my mobile.
And there it was…a message from G. Poitier:
I heard a rumor you’re in Paris, my friend. Are you free for dinner or a drink?
I didn’t respond. I slipped my phone into my pocket and fixated on a riverboat slicing through the current, squinting against the sun’s glare.
I’d forgotten about Gerard for hours. And I’d forgotten the panicky feeling that always accompanied unwanted surprises.
“Who’s texting you in French and messing with your zhuzh?” Winnie asked, poking my ribs playfully before bugging his eyes out. “It’s Gerard. Shit! I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have told him you were here. He made it sound like you were friends.”
“He’s a colleague…not a friend.”
“Mmm. He must be more than that. You’re green around the gills.”
I frowned. “I am not.”
Winnie shrugged, unbothered by my withering glare. “A teense. Trust me, there’re a few coworkers I’d rather not bump into—out of town, out of sight, out of mind. But you really hate that guy.”
“I don’t hate him.”
“But you want to avoid him.”
“No, I want to…minimize contact,” I replied, proud of my matter-of-fact tone.
“Because…”
“Because I have nothing new to share with him, and I don’t like to divvy my work in bite-sized portions for leisurely consumption. We keep schedules and diaries for a reason.” I felt around the bench in a sudden panic. “Where did I put my mobile?”
“In your pocket,” Winnie said matter-of-factly. “The coast is probably clear now if you want to head back to the hotel.”
I chuckled ruefully. “I’m not hiding from Gerard. It was more a matter of needing space to think. I come up with my best lines after unexpected confrontations.”
“Confrontation?” he repeated. “Are you sure he’s not an ex?”
“Positive. Gerard is the perfectly nice gentleman who…wooed my ex. It’s complicated,” I blabbed.
See what I mean?
I couldn’t shut up in Winnie’s presence.
He widened his eyes comically. “That cad! What, when, and how? I want all the deets. Unless, you’d rather not talk about it. That’s absolutely okay, too. But I will say this…I’m an excellent listener. In fact, in my capacity as hairdresser, I’m practically a therapist. I assure you, I have heard it all.”
“It’s not an exciting tale, Winnie. Boy wins boy, boy loses boy to a handsome, wealthy, successful, charming man…with a French accent. I bet you’ve heard better stories at your Hollywood salon.”
He studied me for a moment, then reached out to thread his fingers with mine. The unexpectedly forward gesture caught me unawares. By the time it registered that I should have pulled away, we’d been holding hands for over a minute, and damn it, this was nice.
“Let’s see…one of my customers broke up with his boyfriend in rush hour traffic on the 405 and demanded to be left on the side of the road where he was picked up by the police. He spent an hour sobbing in the back seat with a German shepherd howling at him. Another customer told me his lover was so thrilled with his Brazilian wax job that he showed it off…everywhere. And yes, he caught his man bent over, pants down, cheeks spread for his eighty-year-old neighbor. Somehow, they’re still together.”
I barked a laugh. “No!”
“Yes. I also had a client who walked in on his boyfriend and his ‘straight’ best friend doing the dirty, and another whose ex blew a stranger on a dance floor while my client was in the bathroom.”
“Really?”
“Really,” Winnie huffed. “Not all of those stories are true. Some guys just make shit up for entertainment purposes. I can usually tell the difference between grossly embellished and true horror stories. Tea is the currency at my salon. I’ve heard the ‘boy leaves boy for another boy’ tale from both sides, and it always makes me sad. Sometimes mad. Like now. Just know that you’re equally as successful, handsome, and desirable as Gerard. And your accent is hotter.”
“Well, now I know you’re lying,” I teased. “He’s French.”
“British accents, though…yum.”
I snorted. “Definitely off your rocker. Thank you for the compliment and your concern, however misplaced. I’m not heartbroken. All parties have moved on. Including me.”
He cocked his head curiously. “Okay, then give it up. What happened with the ex? How long ago did you break up?”
“Five years ago.”
“Tell me more. Where did you meet?”
“At the museum.”
Winnie crooked his finger. “Keep going.”
“Colin was an assistant to one of the curators while he was finishing his degree in antiquities. We hit it off, and everything was lovely for four years…or so I thought. We didn’t live together, but we talked about our future as if it was a given that we’d eventually do heteronormative things, like get married. But Gerard came along, and that was the end of us,” I finished in a rush, fighting the urge to slap a hand over my mouth. I’d never shared any of this information…with anyone.