Page 27 of Never Too Late

I gave a mock bow. “Thank you. I can’t even remember what the question was now.”

“Number of painters.”

“Right.” While we took the stairs back down to the second level, Finn regaled me with more facts, including that the tower had taken two years, two months and five days to build, and that Hitler had ordered its destruction during the second world war, but that the man tasked with carrying it out had been so shocked, he hadn’t done it.

“You should be a tour guide,” I said once we reached the bottom of the one thousand six hundred and sixty-five steps. I hadn’t counted them; it had been another one of Finn’s facts.

“I’ve probably bored you to tears.”

“You haven’t,” I said, my answer coming as something of a surprise even to me. It was true, though. I could listen to Finntalk about anything he was enthusiastic about.So why didn’t you? Why didn’t you ever spend a lazy Saturday morning with him in bed and just talk about stuff that didn’t really matter?Picturing that scenario and the way it should have gone had an ache forming in my chest that no amount of rubbing would ease.

“Now what?” Finn asked as we walked away from the Eiffel Tower.

“Your choice.”

Finn’s choice turned out to be a restaurant we stumbled across down a side street. “See,” he said once I’d enthused heartily over the food. “There are plenty of places without a Michelin star where you can get a perfectly good meal. And you get a decent amount of food on your plate without re-mortgaging your house.”

“No Michelin starred restaurants,” I drawled. “Duly noted. I should have taken you to Burger King.”

Finn smiled. “I wouldn’t have complained. They do good milkshakes.”

I shook my head in mock reproach. “A milkshake. Who even are you?”

Finn grinned unabashedly. “The same person I always was. You just needed to look past the seemingly cultured exterior to the boy inside who’s never grown up and has a bit of a sweet tooth.”

I propped my chin on my hand and studied him. “More like I got lost in your eyes and couldn’t see anything beyond that.”

Finn groaned. “Oh, please. Don’t start getting cheesy, or I’ll have to get up and walk out.”

“What country are you going to this time?” I grimaced. “Sorry. That was a low blow.”

“It was,” Finn agreed. “And it broke our embargo not to rake up the past.” He softened his words by smiling. “Besides, If I’ve learned one thing from you following me here, it’s that next time I need to make sure no one knows where I’m going.”

He might have meant it as a joke, but the thought of such a thing happening was still wounding. Searching for a distraction, I focused on the small dance floor at the center of the restaurant, a live band having played enthusiastically ever since we arrived. Most of the songs were instrumental only, but every now and again, a female singer stepped in to provide husky vocals in French.

“What’s she singing about?” Finn asked, following my gaze.

I listened for a moment, my smile wry once I worked it out. “Love. It’s a song about two estranged lovers who never seem to be in the right place at the right time.” There were only two couples on the dance floor, their demeanors a complete contrast. While the older couple didn’t look like they gave two hoots what anyone thought, the younger pair had an air of embarrassment about their movements. They were still brave enough to get up in front of everyone and give it a go, though.

“Dance with me,” I said on impulse.

Finn laughed. “Yeah, right?”

“I’m serious. Why not?”

“Because… I can’t dance. And neither can…” Finn stopped abruptly, his brow creasing. “Can you dance?”

“Not really.” My gaze strayed back to the younger couple. They’d loosened up a bit, more interested in staring into each other’s eyes. “But we should challenge ourselves sometimes. Try something new.”

“Great. Good advice. I’ll book a pottery class. Or go to Zumba.”

“Dance with me, Finlay Ian Prescott.” I stood and held out a hand.

Finn tipped his head back and stared up at me, his eyes narrowed. “When did I ever tell you my middle name?”

I shrugged. “No idea, but you must have done. Or how would I know it?”

“If I did, I’m surprised you were listening.”

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