Page 14 of Boarding Pass
Maybe it’s not about having all the answers.
Maybe it’s about letting things unfold, one moment at a time.
Chapter eight
It’sbeenaperfectday.
Leading into a perfect night. Starting with dinner at my favorite hole-in-the wall restaurant,L’Élan Secret, an intimate spot close to our hotel with rustic charm and an air of mystery. I’ve been coming to for years. It doesn’t bother with signs or Instagram. It’snot romantic per se, the tables are close enough to eavesdrop. The waiters treat you like family.
Perfect for our final night together.
Or is it?
The glow of a candle flickers between us. Miles leans back in his chair, watching me with a curious, half-smiling expression he’s worn since the moment we met.
“So.” He tilts his wine glass just enough to swirl it. “What was your favorite part of today?”
I pause, pretending to think, though the answer is obvious. “Easy. The crêpes.”
“You can’t say the crêpes. You’re cheating.” His grin widens.
“They were perfect,” I counter, smirking. “Fluffy, golden, perfectly drizzled Nutella. Miles, the crêpes carried the day.”
He laughs. A soft, warm guffaw drawing a glance from the next table. “I mean, they were terrific,” he leans forward, “but what aboutParc des Buttes-Chaumont? The bridge? The views? You didn’t stop talking about the light.”
“Well, yeah. The lightwasstunning,“ I admit. “But it didn’t beatthe crêpes.”
“You have your priorities straight,” he teases, though his tone is laced with something heavier.
I take a sip of my wine, letting the silence stretch for a beat. Our day together replays in my mind like a film montage: wandering through a small art gallery hidden behind an ivy-covered door in the Marais, laughing at the tiny bookshop where he found a graphic novel so old it practically disintegrated in his hands, walking along the quiet canal as the late-afternoon sun rippled over the water.
The whole day could be a rom-com movie of the Paris I love most. The version that is effortlessly enchanting without even trying.
Studying him, I take in the way the candlelight softens his features. His messy hair and the strong lines of his jaw. There’s an ease about him. It wasn’t there earlier, but something else, too. A kind of weight he hasn’t put into words.
“Okay.” I set my glass down. “Your turn. What wasyourfavorite part?”
His gaze fixes on me with amusement. “Hmmm. It’s tough.“ He quirks a brow. “I mean, the crêpes were obviously life-changing.”
“Obviously.” I nod.
“But…” He hesitates, glancing over my shoulder and back at me. “I think it was walking with you along the canal. The stretch where it was quiet, just us. It was…perfect.”
The way he says it makes my chest tighten, and I have to look away because it gives me all the feels. “It was.”
The waiter passes, offering wine, but I shake my head. I’ve had enough. Miles waves him off too, resting his elbows on the table. For a moment, the conversation stalls, but it’s not uncomfortable. It feels…easy. Like there’s a ton of things unspoken between us and even though neither of us knows where to start, we’ll get there.
I’m not used to this. The ease. The connection. With Mark, I was always on edge. Waiting for him to find another thing to be pissed at me about. It’s been so long since I’ve let myself…feelanything like this. But is it real?
“So, you’re heading to Bordeaux tomorrow,” he says, addressing the elephant in the room. The clock is ticking.
“Yeah.” I rest my chin on my palm.
He looks down at the tablecloth nervously. “How long will you stay?”
“I dunno,I want to spend some quality time with them,” I admit. “They’re great, but it depends. It can be…a lot.”
He raises an eyebrow, waiting.
