Page 68

Ruben turned his head and stared at me with his mouth open. He furrowed his brow. “I’m sorry. Of course it’s worth it to me. It was just . . . ” He looked back out the windshield. “Hiding away feels natural in these stressful, intimate situations. When I think about it more, I realize how stupid my knee-jerk reaction was. But then it’s sometimes too late. Or I think it’s too late. Then I can’t take it back.”

He chewed on his lip, and I carefully pulled it out from between his teeth. He was going to bite it until it bled.

“Good! Then at least we have a common starting point.”

“Okay.” His eyes lingered on me, waiting patiently. “What do you want to talk about then?”

I lowered my gaze to my hands. By now, I felt silly. But I had no choice if I didn’t want to contradict my own words.

“What did you discuss?”

“What are you talking about?” Ruben frowned, confused. “Where did I discuss anything?”

“With the other chefs. In French.”

Ruben tilted his head and held my gaze with intent. “Nothing important. Small talk.”

“Really? The older gentleman was eager to tell you something important. I didn’t understand anything.” My cheeks burned hot. My head was on fire. “It’s none of my business. I don’t mean you have to report to me on what you talk about with others all day.” This was turning into a complete disaster.

“It’s okay.” He spoke quietly. “Alphonse, um . . . well, he wants me to visit him in Paris. At his restaurant, that is.”

“Oh.” Shit. I was afraid of that. “That sounds great. And . . . ” Damn it. I ran my fingers through my hair. “Is this a good opportunity? Are you considering it?”

“I, um . . . ” Ruben looked everywhere but at me. His whole demeanor changed. “I haven’t had a chance to think about it yet. Is that really what you want to talk about, Shane? I mean, we can discuss it, but . . . ”

“Ruben, I am being silly. I’ve never been in a situation like this before. And to be honest, I don’t know where to start.”

“From the beginning?” Ruben asked tentatively, and I laughed.

“Wherever that is. I always waver between absolute certainty about what I want”—you!—“and complete uncertainty when I observe you in an environment where I don’t see a place for myself.” Ruben opened his mouth to say something, but I quickly continued. “You talk in French as if it were the easiest thing in the world. I didn’t even take French. You can surely surpass the few bits of Spanish I’ve carried over from my school days into the here and now. You talk about changing continents as if it were a bus ride to the next town. When I stand next to you, I feel like a fish out of water. Normally, that kind of thing doesn’t bother me. I’m aware of where my strengths lie and where they don’t. That’s okay. I’d say the same thing to anyone else. But when it comes to you, suddenly it’s not easy. I question myself. I swore to myself that I wouldn’t do that anymore because I can’t change what other people think of me, anyway. When I saw you today, surrounded by these people who are so different from me, my childish doubts came back.”

Now Ruben couldn’t stop himself. “It was never my intention to make you feel that way. I had no idea what was going on inside your head. I’m sorry if I ever did anything that made you question yourself.”

“It’s not your fault,” I quickly interjected. “I don’t want to blame you, I want to explain what it did to me today. Where I am emotionally.”

Ruben nodded vigorously. “But it’s the same for me when I see you with your snowboard friends. I’m confident in the kitchen. But when it comes to dating, I am lost. And look at you, you’re a prime example of today’s dating culture. That scares me. You scare me.”

“I’m scary?” I sat up straighter, indignant. “Couldn’t it be that you’re too scared?”

“Only someone who has to snap their fingers to have all men fall at their feet can say that.”

I swallowed hard. That accusation made me furious. “Not again. That’s not fair. It may be easier for me to meet someone. It’s true that what happens on apps and in clubs is often superficial and apparently favors people like me. But it’s as difficult for me to maintain a relationship. To find something real.”

Ruben turned back to me. “I’m sorry. That was thoughtless of me to say. I didn’t mean you.” He stroked my forearm. “Dating is frustrating sometimes. It’s not just what’s in the profiles. As soon as someone sees a full-body picture of me, I get blocked nine times out of ten. Sometimes I get great tips. I should lose weight, then it would work out. I’m aware that you have never said that to me. But sometimes it’s not easy for me to ignore what others have ingrained in me completely. Taking it out on you makes no sense, of course. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that because I don’t want to belittle your own experiences. Even if I can’t relate to them myself. No one throws themselves at my feet, and then the problems start. I don’t even get that far. But I don’t want that to stop me—to stop us. Even though it scares me, I know at the same time that it’s worth it. Because it’s you.”

“You’ve never said that before.”

“Ha. I wanted to tell you,” he claimed.

“When?”

“Yesterday.”

“Yesterday?” I shrugged, confused.

“Yes, after Chloe called you my boyfriend. I asked you if it bothered you, and you said it was nonsense.”

I widened my eyes. “You did what? When we were in bed? I was asleep. I didn’t mean it that way.”