But the thirty-five-year-old guy is kind of a dick too.

  “Look...” I said, having no idea how to finish the rest of the sentence. I glanced around the dining room, my eyes settling onto the big wall clock. He’s probably not even waiting for me anymore. “You never should have read that note, that’s the first thing.”

  He took a sip of wine. “What’s the second thing?”

  “The second thing is that I’m here. I chose to be here instead of there. Because of you. Okay?” I squeezed his hand.

  “So you’re never going to wonder what he would’ve had to say, is that what I’m hearing? You’re saying you can happily go on, with whatever he had to tell you left hanging in the air? Forever?”

  Never, forever...why did he have to use such dramatic words? I was suddenly grossed out by all the parmesan cheese on my plate.

  “Can’t we just enjoy this night?” I pleaded.

  “Not when you have that constipated look on your face.” I blushed. “A look that means you obviously can’t relax until you find out what he has to say.” He sighed. “Just go already.” I sat up a little straighter. “But once you go, don’t expect me to be waiting at the end of the night.”

  I slumped back down in my chair, not knowing what to do. He shifted his focus to his meal, as I sat there feeling like any decision was the wrong one, while the seconds kept ticking away...

  ***

  At least I was wearing platforms instead of heels. That was about the only thing on my side, as I hurried across the bridge towards Notre Dame. My hands were balled into fists that got tighter with every step. I was furious. There were so many reasons to be in a rage, and the fact that my stomach was grumbling now was a big one. A ruined meal, a ruined date, a restless mind that was obsessed with knowing every last detail before letting go, and the fact that I was thirty minutes late, which meant the chances of even seeing him were minimal.

  I stomped down the stone steps, but slowed down pretty quick when I remembered there wasn’t a railing. Cracking my head open wouldn’t be a very good end to the night. It was fairly dark and I hadn’t brought my glasses, so I practically had to walk right up to every guy who was sitting on the edge of the riverbank.

  But none of them were Erik.

  I sighed and stared out at the glistening ripples of the Seine River; like on any other night, the aggressive Parisian men made their usual advances.

  “Bon soir...” said a lanky dark-haired guy. He hovered like a total creep, and the open bottle of wine in his hand was dangerously close to spilling all over my feet.

  I dismissed him and moved along the riverbank swiftly, almost colliding with one of the many Indian men who made a living hawking overpriced beer down by the river.

  He held up a bottle to my face. “Heineken Heineken Heineken.” He said it so fast in his thick Indian accent that it very nearly sounded like a prayer.

  “No,” I said firmly, continuing in a hurried pace. The more I walked, the farther and farther the Notre Dame Cathedral appeared from up above, so the chances of finding Erik were almost zero now.

  Now it was getting late, and if I stayed here much longer by myself, things would start getting dangerous too. I suddenly remembered how that podcast host had suggested hanging out at the riverbank to meet guys. “What a dumbass,” I muttered. The next set of stairs was up ahead, so I went over quickly and started my climb back to street level, finding it hard to remember how the day had begun with so much promise.

  “Romi!”

  I froze at the last step. One step more and I’d officially be back to the street level, leaving any chance of a rendezvous behind. But one step less and it wasn’t too late.

  I turned to find Erik at the bottom of the stairs. His hair was back to normal after I’d ruined it the night before, and the signature glasses were back in place. He wasn’t dressed up like Carter, but he didn’t need to be. He looked perfect standing there in his casual attire, and when his dimples appeared as his face spread into a smile, it made me...angry.

  Who the hell was he to be having such a dimple-exposing night? What about me? My night had been the pits, all because of him and his stupid letter.

  On the strength of his dazzling smile and that always-fit body, he ran up the stairs to greet me.

  But I pushed him back down.

  “Hey!” he said, as he lost his balance and stumbled backwards. They were the same kind of stairs I’d descended earlier, with not the slightest bit of a safety railing, so one bad fall and he’d be toast. This should’ve stopped me from pushing him again, but it didn’t. These pushes were for every moment when he’d looked at me and said nothing, and for every time he’d planted a seed of hope in my heart and waited for me to follow along, without every offering up any commitment. Like when he left in New York, like when I saw him in Italy, like after he sent that e-mail, and like after I finally read his stupid letter, which had led me here for one last waste of time. Hope was definitely a dangerous thing, as he was now finding out while he continued to tumble downwards.

  To my sick and twisted disappointment, he never quite fully fell down, and so he never quite scraped his lovely face with the jagged stone. He was ultimately agile, like a cat. If only I didn’t love cats so much.

  By the time I was finished, we were both at the riverbank now, a few hundred feet further down from our original meeting spot.

  “What the hell was that for?!” he said, straightening his glasses and catching his breath.

  I rolled my eyes. “Oh please, don’t look so surprised. And why are you standing in the wrong spot? I was all alone with the freaks back there!”

  “I wasn’t there because you never showed up,” he said. “I gave up after twenty-five minutes, and then I started wandering.” He shrugged.

  “How typical; you were always such a quitter.” I knew I was being mean but it felt pretty good.

  “Can I please tell you why I asked you here?” he said, ignoring my last comment and suddenly looking serious.

  I frowned. “Why didn’t you just write it in the note? Why’d you have to drag it out and ruin my night, and probably also ruin a pretty good thing in the process? Why do you always drag things out?”

  “Is he your boyfriend?” he said flatly. “That ‘pretty good thing’ you’re referring to?”

  “He sure is! Or was...well I hope he still is after I get this over with. So tell me, what’s so important? Are you letting me in on some insider trading from your job? Hurry up.”

  He crossed his arms. “Does he make you happy?”

  “Does SHE make you happy?” I scowled.

  “You didn’t answer me.”

  “Who says you’re even allowed to ask that? And yes, he makes me very happy right now.”

  “Ah, he makes you very happy ‘right now.’ But will he make you happy five years from now? Ten years from now? Twenty years from now?”

  For a brief moment, I remembered the age difference between Carter and I, which was one of the reasons I could never really picture a future with him. But it was only a brief doubt, when I remembered the guy who was asking all the nosy questions. “You’re such a dick!” I pushed him again.

  The Indian man selling Heineken was making another sweep of the riverbank, and before I knew it he was back, muttering the same alcoholic prayer. He flashed a bottle in front of my face. “Heineken Heineken Heineken.”

  “I DON’T WANT A FUCKING HEINEKEN!” He seemed to have heard me as he scampered off, hopefully for good this time. I massaged my forehead. “What was I saying?”

  “You were calling me a dick. And earlier you pushed me down the stairs where I could’ve cracked my head open.”

  “Drama queen.” I rolled my eyes. “So listen, can I go home now? I don’t even know why I’m here. I mean you said you had something to say but you’re dragging it out yet again. Big surprise”

  He laughed. “Because you make it so easy to talk, right? When you’re not hitting me or calling me names?”

  “Ugh, you’re such a whiner! I could strangle you right now, you big baby!”

  “You would strangle a baby?”

  Somehow that made me laugh. He was smiling at me again, and it was hard to look away. “That’s the thing though,” I said. “I don’t even think we get along anymore.” His smile faded. “Ever since I saw you in May and both times since, I’ve only ever wanted to punch you, push you, slap you, or strangle you.” I gasped. Oh my god, is he my strangle buddy? The one I could practically murder because I care about him that much? Is this true love? I stood there with my mouth hanging open.

  “Romi are you okay?”

  When I heard his voice I remembered how I didn’t trust him anymore, and just like that, the halves of my mouth came together once again.

  He came closer. “Before you beat me again, just listen to the reason why I’m here.”

  “I think I already know,” I said. “You miss me, right? So you just want to see where this goes, which means you just need to use me again, while you decide if I’m good enough to leave her for, but you’ll never actually leave her, which I’ll know by the time I’ve officially made the same mistake twice. Is that what it is?” My trust issues regarding Erik definitely ran deep.

  “You think you’re so smart,” he said. “You think every interpretation of every single moment is the right one, as if you somehow have more insight than any other person on earth.”

  I nodded. “Yes, go on...”

  “Well actually...you’re totally fucking wrong!”

  He’d never yelled at me like that before. I suddenly felt like unbuttoning his shirt, or ripping it right off, to be accurate. I was an animal, in the end. “So tell me what’s right then,” I said.

  He held me by the shoulders and looked intense. “It was after I saw you at the wedding, when you asked me to promise to never contact you again.”

  “A promise you ended up breaking pretty quickly.”

  “Yes, I did, because after I returned and realized you were out of my life forever...well life just didn’t make sense anymore.”

  I frowned. “You seemed to manage just fine the first time we said goodbye; remember?”

  “That was a mistake. And I don’t make the same mistake twice.” He stared deep into my eyes. “I broke it off with Sylvia after the wedding. That’s why I e-mailed you after we got back. That’s what I was trying to tell you last night. And that’s what I’m finally telling you now.”

  It didn’t seem real. Erik seemed like the last person who would actually take a risk instead of constantly hedging his bets. Could people actually change? “So...you broke up with her, even though you had no idea if I would reject you?”

  “Yes. And I still have no idea if you will reject me.”

  “And...you never once begged her to take you back when I didn’t respond to your e-mail?”

  “No. And there wasn’t only one e-mail. I think I e-mailed you at least ten times over several weeks.”

  “Oh yeah, I used that cool setting that sends all your e-mails straight to the trash.” He frowned and I shrugged my shoulders.

  “I even asked Laura where you were,” he said. “But she simply refused to tell me.”

  “A-ha! I knew she was lying about something!”

  “What’s that?”

  “Never mind.” Good ol’ Laura who wouldn’t give out my address; loyal ‘til the end. “So in other words...you’ve been alone for almost three months.”

  “Well I still have friends.” He smiled. “And my parents still like me.”

  “So...you’re single.”

  “Yes, I am. But now you’re not.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  I paced back and forth, as drunken Parisians sang loudly out of key on the other side of the river.

  “Well first of all...” I said, still pacing and staring at the cobblestone beneath my feet. Erik stood to the side and didn’t move a muscle. “Well first of all you shouldn’t have waited this long! Because this isn’t one of those movies where it’s pouring rain and I jump into your arms and we make sweet love in your big country house!”

  He smiled. “Are you describing that scene from the ‘The Notebook’?”

  My eyes widened. “Oh my god...you’re a guy and you have scenes from the ‘The Notebook’ MEMORIZED? Why are you so uncool?!” I started pacing again. “Anyway it’s not raining, and you don’t just go from thinking you’ll never see someone again to a sudden revelation and BAM! Let’s get married!”

  “Did you think I was going to ask you to marry me tonight?”

  I stopped pacing. “What? Eww, no!”

  His eyes widened. “Does the thought of marrying me really gross you out that much?!”

  I covered my face in my hands and shook my head. “What are we even talking about...”

  “I don’t know, you’re the one that’s being weird.”

  I uncovered my face and glared at him. “Oh wait, now I remember what I wanted to say: why didn’t you try harder to tell me the big news? You should’ve come to see me if I wouldn’t answer your e-mails. Why’d you wait ‘til my book party? Why’d you wait until my last two weeks in Europe?!”

  “I told you why; I didn’t know where you lived and then I kind of gave up...that is until I read your newsletter.”

  “But you should’ve tried harder!” I insisted. “You could’ve found my address if you really wanted to; I mean stalkers and serial killers do it all the time!” I closed in on him and lowered my voice for the next part: “Aren’t you as dedicated as a serial killer?”

  “Uhh...yes?”

  “No. You’re not. And that’s why we’re here right now.”

  “Because I’m not a serial killer?!”

  “Precisely.”

  I sighed and wandered to the edge of the riverbank, where I bent down and took a seat to get comfortable. Or as comfortable as one could be with bumpy cobblestone digging into one’s ass. He joined me and we sat side by side, our feet dangling close to the water’s edge.

  “It’s true,” he said, his gaze focused squarely on the water. “I didn’t track you down like a hardened criminal, but I’m here now aren’t I? So...do you think it could still mean something?” He looked at me for an answer.

  “Oh I’m sorry, am I supposed to know what the hell I’m going to do? Because I don’t. I still don’t even know if I’m going to push you into the river.”

  “It’s better than having you push me down the stairs.”

  “Oh really? Even if you get attacked by the testicle-eating fish?” I smiled sweetly.

  “You mean the Pacu fish?”

  “Yes, they’re the ones! With their creepy set of human-looking teeth.” I shuddered. “The marine authorities discovered them in the Seine last week; they’re out there right now, chomping at the bit for some...bits.”

  “It’s only a legend, you know.”

  I shook my head. “No it’s not.”

  “Yes it is. Pacu fish are commonly sold to pet owners as vegetarian fish. They’re just hard to look after, which is why a lot of times they get released into the river. But that doesn’t make them less vegetarian.”

  “How the hell do you know all this?” I gave him a dirty look, since other people knowing things that I didn’t know was insulting. Naturally.

  “I had a lot of time to read while you were ignoring me all summer.” He smiled.

  “Right...” I sighed. “Erik, I don’t think I can.”

  “Can you please expand on that thought?” He stroked my hair with a very tentative touch. He was probably still worried I might hit him or strangle him or push him. Maybe.

  “I don’t think I can deal with all of this!” I waved my hands all around him. “You being here all of a sudden...it’s too much.” I clutched my chest. “It gives me heart pains just thinking about it. Or full body pains, like the green man on the box of those muscle relaxer pills.” He stared at me blankly. “You don’t know?”

  “Not in the least.”

  “Okay; so the man on the box of pills is green, and he doesn’t have hair or a face; can you picture it?”

  “I’m picturing an alien.”

  I nodded. “Close enough. He’s also in great shape, very muscular actually, maybe only seven-percent body fat...” I smiled until he grabbed me by the shoulders.

  “Romi, focus!”

  “Oh yeah, so he has these bursts of yellow all over his body.” I pointed to my arms, back, chest, and legs. “Those are all his pains, and the only thing that can make it right are the extra-strength muscle relaxer pills.” I shrugged my shoulders. “Do you get what I’m saying now?”

  “You’re saying that you need to be on drugs in order to enjoy spending time with me?”

  “Exactly, but too bad for us I’m not a druggie! Which only leaves the option of erasing my memory, since every time I look at you, or talk to you, or hear your voice...I only remember the bad things.” I buried my face in my hands.

  “I see.” I heard him sigh. “Is there anything I can do to fix it?”

  I moved my hands from my face and looked at him hopelessly. “I think all the time for fixing passed us by.” I turned away. “Please walk me home.”

  ***

  It wasn’t a long walk, which was probably a good thing, because there wasn’t a lot to say. We passed the side of the gothic church, and turned the corner to my dark and deserted street. Only it wasn’t totally deserted.

  “Oh god...” I said. I came closer and it wasn’t a hallucination.

  There was Carter, sitting outside my building, his knees pulled up to his chest. Erik put his arm around me protectively, which surely wouldn’t help the situation.

  “Well, well, well,” said Carter, rising to his feet and straightening his shirt. “Finally I meet the famous Lukas.”

  “That’s not my name,” said Erik. He slipped his arm off my shoulder and slowly approached, leaving me there in shock. Is this real?

  When Carter came close it was clear who would win in a fight. Carter was a looming figure who looked like he’d played college sports. Not football of course, since he didn’t have that bloated “steroid look,” but some all-American baseball? For sure. Erik was a couple of inches shorter but very fit; if the fight involved running a half-marathon, Erik would totally win.

 

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