Page 25 of Host for the Holidays
“Good,” I say. “She texted me yesterday at whatever port they were in. I mean, I think she’s going a little insane trying to relax, but all in all, it’s been a really good thing.”
“Old habits die hard.”
I know Siena’s talking about my mom being too used to working herself into the ground—single mom stuff—but since Siena has referred to Josh as myhabitonce or twice, I can’t help but look at her to see if she’s trying to say more than one thing.
But I must be paranoid, because she’s not even looking at me; she’s rifling through one of the cupboards. “Poor Jack all alone for Christmas. Should I invite him over for some Sheppard holiday shenanigans?”
I press my lips together and give her a death stare. She and Jack both like to tease me about this topic because they know how touchy it is. But the truth is, the two of them don’t really get along, which I’m secretly glad about.
A text message from Josh pops up on the top of my screen.
Josh: Just heading to dinner with everyone. I should be to your place by nine.
I try not to sigh.
TWELVE
MADI
Siena strictly forbademe from eating bread and cheese for all of my meals, and then she sent me fifty dollars on Venmo, demanding I not spend it on “boring groceries.” I don’t deserve her.
As the obedient friend I am, I ask Rémy if there’s any good take-out nearby. Next thing I know, we’re walking to a falafel place not far from the apartment. It’s freezing now that the sun has gone down, and I’m feeling supremely fortunate to have my coat, even if it’s not quite as warm as I would like.
Walking the streets ofle Marais—that’s what our neighborhood is called, according to Rémy—at night is something magical. Despite how cold it is, it’s alive with people, twinkling Christmas lights, and a couple of street performers.
I buy the falafel for both of us, interrupting Rémy’s protests with reminders about how he paid for my groceries. He looks like he wants to argue, but he relents, and we munch on the best falafel I’ve ever had—also the first falafel I’ve ever had—as we walk back to the apartment.
I think about Siena’s long-distance obsession with Rémy as he’s unlocking the doors for us. Heisobjectively attractive, and he has been far nicer to me than I deserve. But I’m not sold on whatever she was implying about the reason behind his kindness. It’s entirely possible that he has a girlfriend. I’ve only known the guy since yesterday, for heaven’s sake. In fact, I would be shocked if hedidn’thave a girlfriend.
Besides, even putting aside the fact that Idohave a boyfriend, Rémy and I are from different continents. And, despite what you see in the movies, normal people don’t upend their lives by starting relationships like that.
What am I even talking about?! Relationships? This whole train of thought is ridiculous. Things might not be ideal with Josh or even what I had hoped they would be here so far in Paris, but I know just how good things can be between us—thinking about the beginning of our relationship still gives me butterflies—and I’m not the sort of person to jump ship at the first sign of trouble.
First sign of trouble, Madi?Really?
I grit my teeth. Every relationship has things to work through, and both Josh and I are still settling in here.
The building is only mildly less freezing than outside, but I’m grateful for even a few degrees at this point. Rémy doesn’t even try to persuade me to take the elevator. I’ll admit, a ride upstairs would be nice right about now, with my stomach full of falafel, but I kind of need the bathroom, and getting stuck in the elevator with Rémy when I need to pee doesn’t sound very fun.
* * *
“How was your day?”I ask Josh as he takes off his coat. He doesn’t bother removing his shoes, and I glance at Rémy, who’s poring over tomorrow’s lesson plan. He always removes his shoes when he gets home. He even has soft house slippers he wears inside. They’re somehow adorable and funny to me at the same time because they remind me of my grandpa.
Rémy glances at Josh’s feet briefly, but he doesn’t say anything. I can’t help but hope this means Josh is planning on heading back out with me in a few minutes.
“Long,” Josh replies as he makes his way to the couch and takes a seat. He goes off for a few minutes about all the shifts the company is making and the pushback he’s getting from some of his subordinates.
“Sounds like a lot of drama,” I say.
“Nah,” he replies. “Just corporate life.”
Corporate life. It’s a phrase he uses a lot. I don’t love it because it implies that I’m incapable of understanding because I don’t have a corporate job. Or any sort of real job, I guess.
“How is Brianne’s training going?”
That’s my roundabout way of asking how much time they’ve spent together since arriving. It’s pathetic, I know. But Josh lives so much of his life at work, sometimes it feels like this mysterious dimension of him I don’t know.
“Good,” he says. “She’s picking things up really quick. She doesn’t seem to thrive in the group training atmosphere, but once she’s had some one-on-one time where I can actually address her questions”—he snaps—“she’s got it like that.”
