Page 60 of Love Spell

“I’ll get you there, don’t worry about it.If we need to stay an extra day or two, we can.”

“No you can’t.”Noah turned his frown on Timo.“You have to be at your terminal when the market opens on Monday.Golden rule.”

“Noah —” Timo leaned forwards, taking Noah’s hand that was above the phone.“I’ve told you.What must I do to prove that you’re my priority?”

Instead of bashful or embarrassed, Noah seemed only more annoyed by him.“It’s hard to take that seriously when it’s only happening because of a spell.”

“I thought we agreed to put that aside?Do you really feel absolutely nothing for me?This is all a waste and I’m only bothering you?Making you uncomfortable?Keeping you from spending a full day out in Paris?”

“Of course not.”Noah looked away, reclaiming his hand, finally rather flushed.“I do want to be with you.I wanted last night.It’s just … it’s … more complicated than that.”

“I don’t see why.”

Noah glanced at him.“You really think you can get me a work visa?When’s your appointment with the attorney?”

“Friday.And yes.Is that what you’re worried about?Don’t be.You have a place with me: a home and we’ll get your legal status in the country sorted.I’ll take care of it.I’ll take care of you.You don’t have to be scared.”

For some reason, Noah caught his breath.He stared at his plate, out the window, then quickly stood.“Bathroom — too much water.”

Bewildered, Timo watched him flee for the back.Timo had only meant that he shouldn’t worry, shouldn’t be scared of deportation when they could surely work things out with the help of Timo’s immigration attorney.What was it that Noah thought he’d meant?

* * *

Timo padded indulgently after Noah for the museum, the crowds and selfie sticks, Notre Dame, and too much sun — Timo burned easily.Then Noah decided what he really needed wasn’t a bridge or river stroll for sunset tonight, but a visit to the top of the Eiffel Tower.

Since these tickets sold out on the weekends and high seasons as much as 60 days in advance, and since even the lower level and stair access options were also sold out until Monday, Noah turned away from the ground-floor ticket office in despair.

That would never do.

Timo sent Noah off to walk the grounds before he sweetly asked at the ticket office to speak to a supervisor, who answered his questions about how much it cost to light the tower for a year, then rang up a proper manager who worked for the city, who appeared in short order, shaking his hand, asking Timo into the office, and would he care for a private tour?

Why not?

So Noah had a private tour in charmingly accented English, plus a voucher for his sunset time slot that included the lift and champagne at the top, with the manager asking was there anything else Noah needed or would like to see?

There.That was how everyone should treat Noah.As long as they didn’t upstage Timo.

What, after all, was a million pounds at the end of the day?Timo could earn it back next week.Besides, Noah had suggested Timo give more to charity and the tower was close enough.

“How did you do that?”Noah asked, beaming as he clutched the tickets like a child with an ice cream cone.

Timo refrained from telling Noah that he got whatever he wanted because the world didn’t run on fairness and love for all humankind, that the way to a city’s tower was through a bank transfer.Noah might take it the wrong way under the circumstances.

Instead, he said, “How much time do we have?Enough for dinner first?We can’t rush a French dinner.”

Revived with his tourist afternoon and the thrill of the impending sunset scene, Noah was transformed from his tense lunch companion.They talked about the food and Paris, travel and work, as if they’d been going on dinner dates for years.They were both still a bit dehydrated and gulped water along with wine.

Naturally, the food was exquisite, though Timo still didn’t feel that hungry for food.It was more fun to sit and watch Noah, remembering more of the 36 love questions to ask and gaze into his hazel eyes that looked like different colours in different light, sometimes green, sometimes more brown or grey.

He imagined the night ahead, would have been happy to strip Noah right here at the table, but last night had taken the edge off his obsession with physical matters and he found himself better able to stay in the moment and simply enjoy Noah’s company like savouring a fine wine.

By French standards, they cut the meal short, but nearly everyone besides the Italians cut meals short by French standards.

They reached the tower in good time and Noah was again wide-eyed with his own delight at every aspect of the tower, the city, the view, phone in hand for piles of photos.

Would he post Paris on his disused Instagram account?The one that went all black and white and impersonal many years ago?Would Timo ever ask him about it?Admit to hunting for Noah online?Didn’t everyone do that these days?If Noah didn’t want his collection of old photos seen, he didn’t have to leave the account public.

When they got their champagne, Timo toasted, looking into Noah’s eyes, “To immigrants.”And Noah grinned in return.

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