Taina snapped the paper open at another shot of them and passed it to Daidan who sat opposite her in the French café. June in Paris was entirely unlike June in Helsinki, she thought. As much as she adored her home city, the warmth of a summer’s day in Paris was very seductive.
“See,” she said, lifting her chin to the warmth of the summer sunshine. “Everything will be fine.”
He downed a glass of water and shook his head. “You, Taina, could charm the birds from the trees. Monsieur Betrand is as grizzled a campaigner as they come and you had him eating out of the palm of your hand.”
She laughed and replied without opening her eyes. “What can I say? It’s a gift.”
He didn’t reply immediately and she opened her eyes to see his face serious and intense. She had no idea where his thoughts were leading and she didn’t want to know. Her smile faltered.
“Anyway.” She took a sip of her kir royale. “What made you choose this café? A little bohemian for you, isn’t it?”
“I thought it would make a change. We’ve been surrounded with formality ever since you returned.”
“So is that why you dismissed the driver?”
“Partly.” He placed his elbows on the table and rested his chin on his steepled fingers. “You really don’t remember?”
She looked away. She did. Of course she did. She just hadn’t thought he’d remembered. She looked up from beneath lowered lashes. “Tallin?”
“Of course, Tallin. It was the only holiday—no matter how brief—we had in the year we dated before we got married. Your father always had me tied up with work. But in Tallin we had no chauffeurs, no itinerary, just walking, eating and…” The look in his eyes was positively indecent.
“Um, I remember. And you said next time, it would be Paris.”
“I never imagined that next time would be a reunion of sorts.”
“Reunion ,” she repeated thoughtfully. “I guess it is.”
“You know, when I first saw you I thought, what a sweet girl.”
She raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Sweet?”
“Yes, sweet. You were wearing a simple t-shirt and jeans.”
“Must have been my rebellious college phase.”
“And thank God for it.” He glanced down at her hips. “I miss those jeans.”
“I don’t know where they are.”
“I do. In your wardrobe on the island.”
There was something about the fact that he knew where this old item of clothing was that touched her. He must have gone looking at some point. She cleared her throat.
“And you, I don’t remember seeing you dressed in jeans for ages. Nor a shirt without a tie.” She reached forward and playfully tugged his tie. “Maybe it’s a part of you now. Clipped to your collar is it?”
He narrowed his eyes playfully. “This, I’ll have you know is an Ermenegildo Zegna silk tie, picked up last time I was in New York.”
She sat back in her seat suddenly. “When were you in New York?”
“Ten months ago.” He paused and took another sip, then looked up at her with a keen glance. “On business. Before you left, you’d agreed to attend the charity ball in New York. I thought you’d be there. But you never showed up.”
She waited for him to ask why she hadn’t.
He shrugged. “So rather than come away empty-handed, I purchased an expensive tie.” He reached over and took her hand. “I’m curious, of course I am, Taina, but you must have good reasons not to tell me so I’m not going to keep asking. Okay?”
She nodded. “So how about we have a date when we get back? Both of us in our jeans. We could go to Storyville. Remember? That jazz place near the Parliament building?”
“How could I forget? Yes, I’d like that. Now drink up. It’s a beautiful evening. Let’s go for a walk along the Seine.”
They weren’t the only strollers out that evening. She slipped her arm through his and they walked along the river bank, below Quai de Montebello, past Notre Dame. Paris was at its best, with the low afternoon light warming the cream-gray limestone buildings. The flowers were in blossom and romance was in the air. They walked over the Pont de la Tournelle to the Île Saint-Louis, and along to the Place Vendôme and then to the Triangle d’Or looking in the various shop windows. Hours passed without notice. They were still discussing the jewelry they’d seen when the rain came. They ran, laughing, into a dark café basement, complete with individual booths and thudding music. Daidan ordered some wine.
He looked around. “I think you’re right about those jeans. Next time I travel I’ll bring them with me. I think we’re the odd couple out here.”