Page 38 of Mostly My Girlfriend
He smiled. “That’s what I’m telling you right now. Merry Christmas.”
I beamed at him, picked up my spoon, and dug into what could only be described as the most luscious thing I’d ever eaten. “Ethan, this might be thebestChristmas ever.”
* * *
Christmas Eve
Julia
“Oh my God! What a day!”
I was twirling in the sitting room of our hotel suite. I couldn’t stop myself, although when I finally did, I realized the room was still spinning. Not too badly, though, so I wasn’t drunk, just tipsy. It was a thought I had, that I had to be careful not to drink too much with Ethan.
Bad things happened to us when we let ourselves get out of control.
After the morning and early afternoon at Versailles, Ethan had booked us a reservation at Le Cinq for dinner. The chef had come out to greet us personally. Then he’d presented us with food and wine pairings of some of the most delicious things I’d ever put in my mouth, which was saying a lot after last night’s dessert.
I was high on culture, history, good food, and the best French wine imaginable.
Falling back into the sofa, I sighed and looked down at the cream-colored confection I’d purchased for tonight’s outing. Earlier this afternoon, Ethan had put on his best Richard Gere face and asked the owner of this fabulous boutique to open for us so that I might pick a dress for dinner tonight.
He made me try on a total of six dresses then decided on this one. Since he was paying it for it—another Christmas gift—I let him choose.
He was in black tie and I was in cream and I could pretend, for a moment, that our lives were as glamorous as today had been.
I laughed.
“What?” he asked, dropping onto the couch next to me. He’d pulled his tie free, so it hung around his neck, and unbuttoned the top of his shirt. Glancing at him now, if I squinted, I could still see the lanky guy with the fuzzy eyebrows I’d met in college. There, but with so much more panache.
Ethan didn’t care about expensive clothes, food, or wine. None of that motivated him. But he dressed and ate and drank like he did because he understood there was a mystique about the Ethan Moss people thought they knew. An image he’d cultivated over time so that, despite his relative youth, his ideas were taken seriously.
Few world leaders would listen to someone not yet thirty talk about changing the nature of air travel. But they listened to Ethan.
The genius boy billionaire.
“You’re a billionaire!” I snorted.
“As someone who runs the finances of my empire, I would hope you, of all people, would know that.”
“It’s just that sometimes I forget. I mean, we work so freaking hard. Our days are mostly spent in an office—granted a lovely office, but still. I can’t remember the last time I did something for myself just for fun. I have this huge bank account, but I mostly eat fast-food salads. Today felt…”
“Magical?” Ethan asked, nudging my shoulder.
Yeah, I thought. It had been pretty magical. “Is this what you dreamed about? When you started at Harvard, is this how you saw it all playing out?”
He stared ahead, looking thoughtful. “For us?”
“No, for you.”
“I didn’t think about what the future would look like back then. I was too focused on the present. On freedom.”
“Are you happy, Ethan? I mean, everything you’ve done, all that you’ve built…are you happy?”
Suddenly it seemed important to know that. Because if we’d done all this work and come all this way and he was still lost inside, it would crush me.
“Right now. I am. Are you? Happy?”
I was…conflicted. In so many ways. But in this moment, here with him, it seemed so simple. I stretched out my hand and he took it, our fingers instantly locking. “Yes. Right now, I’m happy.”
