But I manage the feat and head down the steps.

9CHRISTIAN

Griffin is quiet as we run along the river. I chat briefly about football—my favorite team, and the club league I play in—but mostly keep my mouth shut, since he has a lot on his mind.

We’re nearly finished with the run. I joined him, as I sometimes do, for the tail end of his run, logging in three miles to his fifty.

Okay fine, it’s more like ten or twelve that he peels off. Whatever the number is, it’s a fuck lot more than I want to run. But he’s the one training for a marathon. I’m merely trying to stay in tip-top shape. I’d rather be skiing, but alas, it is June, so running it is.

When we’re finished, Griffin checks his watch. “I’m going to go meet Joy around the corner then shower at her flat.”

“Or you could skip the shower. Go straight to the good stuff.”

“Thank you. That thought hadn’t occurred to me at all.”

I clap him on the back, my breath still coming hard as we cross the busy avenue and turn toward a side street not far from Notre Dame. “That’s what I’m here for. To make sure you never forget the good stuff.”

“Shockingly, I can remember on my own.”

We head in the same direction, since I don’t live too far from here either. Griffin’s fallen into silence again, and I know that means he’s deep in thought about the decisions he needs to make. Figuring now is as good a time as any to give him a piece of advice, I say, “You know what my grandfather used to say about hard choices?”

“What’s that?”

“We usually know what we’re supposed to do. It’s all a matter of accepting the choice.”

He arches an eyebrow and gives me a quizzical look. “You’re being contemplative?”

I shrug. “I have it in me from time to time. But don’t ever let the ladies know.”

He laughs, shaking his head. “Right. I’m sure they’d have zero interest in your soft, sensitive side.”

I shudder. “I will deny you ever said that, and I will deny anything sensitive I’ve ever said. And on that note, I should go.” As we turn the corner, a red awning comes into view, with Café Rousillon painted in gold script. Chairs and tiny tables spill out from the open café doors onto the sidewalk, wedged close together. Griffin smiles widely when he spots Joy, and as I follow his gaze, I see his lovely redhead isn’t alone.

And I suddenly have no interest in going anywhere. Joy is with my Friday-night lover. At least, I want Elise to become my Friday-night lover, in every sense of the word. “I’ll revise that last statement about my whereabouts.”

“Oh, but you have to go,” Griffin says, with an over-the-top insistence. “Don’t you have so many things to do?”

“Nothing on the schedule. Nothing at all.”

We head over to their table as they settle the bill and rise. Griffin and Joy say hello and goodbye as quickly as new lovers can, and then it’s my little mermaid and me.

I smile at her, enjoying how pretty she looks in her white blouse and black skirt. Work attire suits her incredibly well. She’s powerful, but feminine. “Clearly, this is fate, seeing you again.”

She laughs and rolls her eyes. “It’s chance, Christian.”

“If it’s chance, you never know what chance has in store for us when it comes to bedroom activities.”

She shoulders her bag and steps away from the table, leaving some bills behind. “It’s a good thing I’m not offended by your crude remarks.”

“It’s a good thing I’m not offended that you mauled me at the design show the other night,” I say as we leave the café.

“That was not a mauling. That was me finally giving you what you wanted all along.”

“Oh, sweetheart, I want so much more than a kiss.”

Her heels click as we walk briskly, passing a boulangerie that’s closing up its doors for the evening, the faint scent of raspberry tarts drifting out from the shop. “How do you know it’ll be worth it? What if it’s awful?”

I scoff. “Sex? Between you and me? It won’t be awful. It’ll be magnificent.”

“Will it?” she counters as we reach the corner, stopping at the light.

“It will.”

“How do you know?”

I turn to her and brush a lock of her hair off her shoulder. A slight gasp escapes her lips, then I run my fingers down her bare forearm, watching as the soft hairs rise in its wake.

I look up to meet her deep brown eyes. “That’s how I know.”

I drop my hand, and she shudders.

“Where are you headed?” I ask.

“I’m off to the metro.” She gestures to the end of the street.

“I’ll walk you, and don’t even think this counts as a Friday-night date. One, it’s Tuesday. Two, it’s a bonus chance encounter orchestrated by fate.”

She laughs. “It’s a bonus bump-into-each-other.”

“It’s the hand of fate, trying to get us naked.”

“You think fate has a lot at stake in the prospect of our mutual nudity?”

“It should.”

“You’re relentless. Also, you’re quite sweaty tonight.” She eyes my T-shirt then the slight sheen of sweat on my forehead and arms.

“Does it turn you on, Elise?”

She shrugs coyly. “I don’t know. I’d have to smell you to find out.”

I stop outside an antique shop, where an orange cat lounges in the window, sleeping underneath a cranberry armchair. “You’re welcome to smell me anytime.” I hold my arms out wide, inviting her to sniff.

“I’m not going to sniff you right this second.”

“Why not? Are you worried my sheer manliness would be too much?”

She laughs and sets one hand on my shoulder. “Christian, I assure you that your level of manliness doesn’t deter me whatsoever.” She lowers her voice. “Whatever you’re bringing, I can handle.”