"Some call Paris the city of lights."
I could see why. Everything seemed to glow orange.
We walked for a mile or so. Then we crossed a bridge over the River Seine. I stopped and focused on my surroundings: the small carvings in the bridges, the people smoking and kissing on the side of the river, and the faint music in the background.
"I wish I could see Paris la nuit from your eyes," Luke whispered.
"Huh? I wish you could too," I said.
"Paris by Night. I wish I could see it from fresh eyes. We traveled from London to Paris all the time when I was a kid. You know, I believe Le Bateau Mouche is necessary. You'll adore it."
He pulled me further down the sidewalk until we stood in front of a white cruise boat with open seating. We climbed the stairs to the top and waited for everyone to board. The water was like glass, reflecting all of the surrounding lights.
We moved slowly, but I still couldn't soak in the sights fast enough. We drifted under bridges and passed Notre Dame, the Louvre, and Eiffel Tower.
"Wow, it's all so beautiful," I said.
At this moment, if anyone had observed us, we would have looked like the happiest couple in the world. One that was in love while enjoying the lights of Paris, but we weren't. We were nothing more than friends lost in a moment of time together, enjoying each other's company.
The boat slowed, then stopped, and all the other tourists exited.
"Hungry? I know the perfect place that has the most splendid crème brulee."
"Starving."
We passed waterfalls, cathedrals, half-naked statues, and traveled down deserted back roads until we came upon a well-lit area with traffic, people, and music. In the distance, I heard the bells from Notre Dame ring.
"It's eight o'clock. No need for watches with bells," Luke said.
We continued past the loud bars and restaurants then slipped inside of a small diner. Single candles lined the tables, and soft music played in the background.
"I know this song, 'Somewhere Beyond the Sea', Frank Sinatra," I said.
"Actually, Charles Trenet, La Mer. He wrote it in 1943 on a train from Paris to Narbonne. It's said that he wrote it on toilet paper and recorded the song three years later."
"Really? I had no idea."
"Une chanson d'amour pour vous," Luke whispered.
"That is so damn sexy. What did you say?"
"A love song for you."
I smiled, we exchanged a long glance, then both looked down at our menus.
Luke needed to stop.
I picked out keywords on the menu that looked like the English derivative. After trying too hard, I closed the menu and focused on the candles and the warm glow it cast upon Luke's face. His features were soft. He didn't look over the top of his menu when he spoke.
"What will you be having tonight?" he asked.
"Whatever you're having."
"Are you sure about that?"
I nodded my head.
A waiter arrived and I smiled, but didn't speak as Luke ordered. I watched the words form on his lips accompanied by tongue rolls when he spoke.
Within minutes, the waiter arrived with a bottle of Cabernet, bread, and snails. Yes, fucking snails. I looked down at the appetizer, then back at Luke, who thought it was the funniest thing in the world.
"They are delicious, I promise."
"You're feeding me…snails? How romantic," I said, with just a tad of sarcasm in my tone.
"It's like chocolate, oysters, wine…"
"If I didn't know better, Mr. Brand, I would say you are trying to turn me on with your French, bateau mouches, and double aphrodisiacs."
"I am the aphrodisiac," he whispered.
I almost spit wine everywhere. That was not the response I expected.
Eighteen
Our laughter filled the empty streets as we walked back to the car. We had too much wine, food, and crème brulee.
"I'm turned around. I think it's time we call a taxi," he said.
I walked with my arm around his waist as we stumbled and tried to steady one another. A taxi zipped across the street and screeched to a halt in front of us. Not sure why it was so damn hilarious. The wine had made me overly giddy.
Luke gave the driver directions in French. More narrow streets and close calls, then he paid the bill, and we exited. The world rocked as we stumbled down the sidewalk. The key just wouldn't fit in the door. Damn, we really had drunk way too much.
Once inside the flat, Luke leaned his shoulder against the wall to steady himself, and I did too. All jokes and laughter faded.
"What?" I said.
Luke moved closer without reverting his eyes. Silent words passed between us, and the world seemed to stand still. I sucked in a deep breath ready to interrupt the exchange, but before I could, he leaned over and kissed me. His lips were soft, and I got lost in the moment before I realized what the hell was happening. I forced myself to pull away from him. The taste of berries and smell of alcohol left our mouths. All I could do was stare.
"I can't do this," I whispered.
"I'm sorry. I… I don’t know what came over me."
"No, I'm sorry. I don’t know if I gave the wrong impression or—"
"Jennifer." He swallowed and continued. "I've been wanting to kiss you since the last time I saw you. I've dreamt about exploring your body, laying you down on that bed and making sweet love to you."
"Luke."
"But I love my brother, and you do too."
He placed his lips on my forehead. That was as close as we would ever be. After tonight, I would make a note to keep my distance so as not to give mixed signals.
"I'm an idiot," Luke said. Guilt of what happened washed over him. I walked away from his warmth and from him. I changed into my pajamas and climbed into bed. My world continued to sway as I closed my eyes.
"I'm definitely an idiot," he said, and slipped under the blanket.
I rolled over and looked at him. "Stop it."
"I'm a masochist. I love being around you, but when I am, it's torture."
"That's messed up."
"You know what I mean." There was a long pause. "But that's the way the cards fell. I know Finnley and you were made for one another. It's obvious."
I just stared at him as he talked. He gave me a side glance and rolled his eyes.
"You can't tell me that when I talk about him it doesn't make your heart skip a beat."
I opened my mouth to say something but he interrupted me. I really didn't want to talk about this.
"I can see it on your face."
"Finnley… is something else. A mystery. An enigma. Someone that I want to figure out like a puzzle. Someone who purposely pushes my buttons to the extreme."
"It's more than that. And it should be, he's a great person. Under his hard-ass persona, he's a huge softie. You'll see. He makes me look like I'm the dick of the family."
"Whatever."
"I swear to it."
"Pffft."
"I could tell you stories that you would never believe. He loves old movies and music. Forrest Gump is one of his favorites. He actually cried when he first saw it."
"It's the music. Everyone cries during that movie."
"Oh, until the age of twelve he slept with his teddy bear. When he met his first wife, he wrote stupid love songs that he played way too loud and even called to tell me how he was the luckiest man on the planet, daily. It was disgusting."
The look on my face must have told Luke everything. How the hell could I compare to that?
"Oh. Sorry, I didn't mean…"
"It's alright. I know he loved her, a lot. I just wonder if he is really ready to move on and try again or—"
"He is, or he would have never pursued you the way he has. That's why it's so wrong for me to even think about you in any other way than my brother's girlfriend. He has been unhappy for so long that I could never be the one to take that sliver of happiness away."