Page 47 of Harper's Holiday Romance
“No, my ex best friend, she’s here in the resort. The night you saw me in the elevator was the night I bumped into her.”
It all made sense now.
“Seriously? How? Why?”
“I asked myself the same question. I didn’t stick around long enough to get the details. It was raw for me seeing her. We were best friends for ten years. Her betrayal hit me harder than Natasha’s did.” Julia manoeuvred her glass so the waiter could take away our plates. The next course arrived promptly.
“This is white chocolate and cauliflower mousseline with asparagus and parmesan cheese,” the waiter explained. The bowl was immaculately presented. The base was a thick white buttery substance with three pieces of asparagus in the middle and small pieces of hardened white chocolate sticking out around the edge.
“Aren’t you worried you’ll bump into her again?”
“Yes. I am actively avoiding anyone that looks like her.” Julia pointed her spoon towards the dish. “This will be one of the nicest things you’ll ever taste in your life, trust me.”
“That’s a big statement to make, Hanlow.” I smirked.
“Trust me.”
We allowed the conversation of betrayal and exes to fade into the distance. I appreciated her honesty. The remaining courses satisfied my pallet with so many new and exciting tastes. I felt immersed in the French culture, and each small but delicious dish allowed room for the course to feel appreciated. I revelled in the artichoke filled ravioli and mushroom broth dish. It turned out to be the best pasta I’d ever experienced in my life, and I was a pasta connoisseur.
The desserts were presented to us on a small wooden board; there were only three to choose from, but the second one down gave me no reason to observe the rest.
“Oh my God, they have crème brulée.”
“You love crème brulée?” Julia’s eyes widened.
“Yes, it’s my favourite dessert.”
“Mine too!” Julia blurted.
We decided to share one after the waiter informed us the dish, unlike the first six courses, was well portioned.
“We saved the best until last.” I grinned.
There was nothing in the whole entire world that could beat the two luscious contrasting layers of a crème brulée. The vanilla cream buried underneath a crackly caramelised sugar were a match made in heaven.
Julia reached for a spoon and scooped up the first serving. She held her arm across the table. “You first.”
Instantly, I was conscious of scraping my teeth against the spoon. There was no way to gracefully be fed food, especially not food that required a level of expertise to avoid the dreaded lipstick smudge. I attempted to remove the dessert from the spoon with as much elegance as my mouth would allow.
The texture hit the roof of my mouth, “Oh, wow.”
“Good, isn’t it?”
“Unbelievable,” I pronounced every syllable.
“Have you ever been to France?” I asked.
Julia shook her head. A small piece of hair fell in front of her face. I resisted the urge to tuck it back away.
“It’s on my bucket list of places, but us Americans don’t tend to travel to Europe. I think we’re allergic to the long-haul flights.” Julia allowed me the first spoon after picking up her own. I’d only ever shared cutlery with two people in my life, Sarah and my dishwasher.
“You’re missing out,” I declared.
“Have you been?” she asked.
“I’ve been to Paris and Nice. They’re both amazing places to visit.” I was often jealous of people living in America; they had so many different states to explore, one completely contrasting to the next, but I failed to realise how lucky I was to have beautiful Europeancountries all around me. It doesn’t mean I wouldn’t have loved to be a mere four-hour flight away from the Caribbean, but I couldn’t have everything in life.
“I would love to go one day. I picture getting married in a European country,” Julia confessed.
