Page 28 of City of Love

“Yes,” I say drily, trying not to show how disconcerted I am that I caved so easily, even if I had a good reason. “That was it. Now go shower.” I stand up, stretching, and she does the same. “Oh,” I add. “And put on something”—I struggle to find the right word—“nice. We’re going to Dubail. A jewelry store,” I say when she gives me a curious look.

“Oh.” She frowns. “Can you be more specific?”

“You would probably use the term ‘hoity-toity,’” I say, feeling stupid for even letting such ridiculous words pass my lips.

But she nods. “Ah,” she says, as though that clears it all up—and hopefully it did. “Okay, I’ll go plug in my phone so it can charge, and then snobby chic, coming right up.”

I shake my head in amusement. “Whatever you need to call it. Let me show you how the shower works, and then come to the kitchen when you’re done.”

***

We reconvene twenty minutes later, though five minutes of that is me making food while I wait for her after my own shower.

“I feel like a proper human being again,” she says as she enters the room. I glance up from the eggs I’m making to see her headed my way. Shelookslike a proper human being again. My eyes skim over the outfit she’s chosen—tight white jeans, a thin black v-neck, a blazer, and heels. I don’t typically pay much attention to a woman’s outfit, but she looks perfect. Her shoes must be uncomfortable, but she won’t seem out of place at Dubail.

I do nod to her pants, though. “Those look great on you”—reallygreat—“but do you want to wear them if you’re on your period?”

She waves one hand at me, though she looks amused. “Tampons, my friend. It will be fine.” She pauses, looking at me curiously. “Interesting question, though. Cohen would never in a million years think to ask me that.”

I frown. It doesn’t seem like a weird thing to think of.

“It’s not a bad thing,” Lydia says quickly. “I’m just not used to someone so observant. Cohen easily makes my list of my top five favorite people in the world, but he’s a bit clueless about women in general. It wouldn’t occur to him that wearing white while on your period can be risky.”

I shrug, though my frown has turned into a little smile. I like hearing about her relationship with Cohen; I like knowing someone has her back. “Come on over,” I say to her.

She nods. “What are you making?” she says, her heels clicking on the wood floor as she comes to stand next to me. She leans in, peering down at the skillet, and I’m hit by the scent of her.

I thought she would smell like me, but…it’s so much worse than that. She smells likeus—the crisp scent of my shampoo mixed with the spicy sweetness of whatever cinnamon soap she uses. The primal caveman part of me stirs to life, telling me that this girl smells like us and thereforebelongsto us. I put that caveman back in his cage and tell him to calm the heck down.

“Eggs,” I say—unnecessarily, because she’s looking right at them. “Go sit,chérie.” I place a hand on the small of her back and guide her gently out of the way so I can pull down two bowls. “We have a lot to do this morning.”

She ambles slowly to the table while I load eggs into our dishes. Then she turns to look at me. “Do you have—oh,” she says, breaking off when I hold up a bottle of ketchup.

“Yes,” I say, shaking my head. “But you’re barbaric.”

“You refuse to try it. You can hardly judge if you won’t even try it,” she says, sitting down.

“I can and I will. Ketchup belongs on hamburgers and hotdogs.” I put one bowl down in front of Lydia and the other across from her.

She just shrugs, grinning. “Your loss.” She glances down. “This looks good. Thank you.”

I wave her thanks away as we begin eating. “We need to go to my flat first, but then we can get the things you need. We can pick up a metro pass at the station, and Carrefour will have your toiletries and any other odds and ends you need. We’ll do Dubail last.” I don’t want to be carrying the Rolex with me all day.

She just nods as she shovels food in her mouth like it’s her last meal on earth, and I bite back a smile.

“What?” she says, speaking around a mouth full of food when she catches me looking at her.

“Nothing,” I say, turning my attention back to my own eggs.

We finish our meal in comfortable silence, and then we rinse our dishes at the sink and set them out to dry.

“Wow,” she says, rubbing her stomach and sighing contentedly. “I demolished those.”

“You did,” I agree as I dry my hands on a rag. “You must have been starving.”

“Sorry,” she says, looking suddenly embarrassed. She leans one hip against the counter, folding her arms over her chest. “I just hadn’t eaten in a while with all the traveling and getting lost and everything.”

I shake my head, a little smile finally breaking free. “You’re fine.” I reach up and tuck a few strands of wet hair behind her ear. “Let me know when you get hungry again, all right? And we’ll eat.”

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