Nageurs de Paris opened the season with a win against Olympique Toulon and went on to defeat three more clubs—on their home turf, as it were.

Today we played in Paris again, trouncing Aix-en-Provence, 14–6. Lucas is very happy. As per our recently established tradition, he’s treating all his men, together with their partners and children, to celebratory drinks. We’ve already finished the requisite bottle of champagne and switched to beer, wine, and sodas for the kids.

All four of them are having a blast at the moment with a silly game organized by Denis.

He’s placed four small paper bags on the floor—one for each kid—and has them take turns at picking theirs up with their mouths. They aren’t allowed to touch the bag, or the floor, with their hands. When they fail, Denis asks them to jump on one leg while singing. When one of them succeeds, Denis picks up his scissors and cuts a centimeter or two from the top of that kid’s bag.

“What’s the point of this game?” Uma asks him.

“The one with the shortest bag when I say stop, wins.” Denis smiles. “Want to play?”

Turns out she does, and so do Sophie, Zach, and all the other adults in our group.

When the children are done, we line up by the wall and look at Denis.

“What’s the prize?” Julien asks.

Denis pulls a small bag of gummy bears from his backpack.

Jean-Michel stares. “Seriously?”

“I’d planned this for the kids, remember?” Denis shrugs before scratching his head. “Hmm… I got only one more paper bag.”

We wait for him to find a miracle solution.

“OK,” he says. “Different rules for grown-ups. This will be an elimination contest. If you pick up the bag when your turn comes, you stay and I crop it. If you fail, you’re out.”

Over the next forty-five minutes the café’s patrons witness a competition almost as fierce as the one we just had in the pool. Only this time it’s every man for himself.

Lucas is the first to be eliminated, followed by Jean-Michel and his girlfriend, Valentin, Julien, Denis’s wife, Uma, Zach and the others. Sophie and I are the last men standing.

The bag barely rises above the floorboards now.

Valentin moves from one eliminated contender to the next, taking bets. Sophie gives me a mischievous look and begins to circle around the bag, swinging her arms to encourage cheers.

“Go Sophie!” Zach shouts.

“Traitor,” I mouth to him.

Only I’m the traitor, seeing as I’ve stolen his would-be girlfriend. And he’s being remarkably gracious about it.

Sophie rolls up her sleeves and does a few ear-to-shoulder stretches. “Fifteen years of beach yoga, people!”

The masses cheer.

She waits for them to go quiet before adding, “Four years of cheerleading!”

The audience chants her name.

“Heading to the top, U-S-A!” she chants, launching her fists in the air.

Watching her enjoy herself like this, completely uninhibited and infectiously exuberant, is a pure joy. If I wasn’t her opponent, I’d be cheering her at the top of my voice.

But as it is, I have to defend the Tricolor.

I strike a bodybuilder pose exhibiting my biceps. “Vive la France!”

“Go Noah!” Uma hollers.

I put my hand over my heart and drop my head in recognition of her support.

“Mesdames, Messieurs,” Denis says, taking on a commentator’s voice. “We are about to witness the final round of this tournament. A battle of the titans. A battle of civilizations! Eagle versus rooster. Doughnut versus croissant. Marilyn Monroe versus Brigitte Bardot. Elvis—”

“Get on with it,” someone cuts in.

“All right, all right!” Denis turns to Sophie. “Your turn.”

She plants her feet wide, entwines her fingers behind her back and starts lowering her torso with almost no visible effort. God, she’s bendy! She sure wasn’t lying about yoga and cheerleading.

Hmm, I wonder why she never mentioned either of those to me.

We may still be in a gray zone between dating and a relationship, but what we have is definitely more than casual sex. Or am I getting ahead of myself? After all, Sophie still has her life plan, and I’m probably just a fun distraction on her “Parisian holiday.” The man who “untwisted” her vagina.

Maybe that’s why she hasn’t told me about her yoga and cheerleading passions.

Unless it’s because I haven’t been forthcoming about my own life, either.

Thing is, I’m not ready to tell her the truth yet. But I certainly want to know more about her. I’d like to hear what it was like growing up in Key West, I want to know what books and movies she likes, where she stands politically.

And I wouldn’t mind a private demo of her yoga skills.

In fact, I’ll ask for one tonight.

In bed.

My cock twitches when I picture Sophie arranging her gorgeous body in one particular posture.

“Dude, it’s your turn now,” Denis’s voice snaps my attention back to the present moment.

Squatting in front of the bag, I try to grab it with my mouth—and fail.

Denis strides toward Sophie, takes her hand, and yanks it high. “Elastic Girl is the winner!”

Sophie jumps up and down, shouting, “Woohoo! Take that, frog-eaters!”

My phone rings in my pocket with Maman’s ringtone. She must calling to ask about the result of the game.

I excuse myself and step out of the bar.

“Did you win?” Maman asks.

“Yes, we did.”

“Congratulations!”

“Thanks, Maman.” I hesitate. “Can I call you back tomorrow? I’m out celebrating with the team.”

“Is Uma there, too?” she asks.

“Yes.”

“What about that American woman you’ve been enthusing over lately? Is she there, too?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Are you dating her?”

“Yes.”

Keeping this from Maman is pointless. Just as is keeping pretty much anything from her. Sooner or later, she’ll find out, and she’ll be upset. We don’t want that.

When Maman is upset, she becomes emotionally unstable and gets horrible migraines. A couple of times she’s even had suicidal thoughts. The one time I upset her seriously, she filled the bathtub with hot water, wrote a farewell note to me, and was about to set her plan in motion, when I came home from school.

At the regular time.

Is it unkind of me to think she hadn’t actually meant to kill herself? Anyway, I’ve learned over the years to avoid doing things that would upset her.

Maman is silent for a long moment. I don’t need to see her face to know she’s rattled. Uma is the girl she’s always wanted me to be with.

That was my intention, too.

But not anymore.

“I’ll be in France next week,” she finally says.

“Cool.”

“I’ve decided to attend Raphael and Mia’s wedding.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Did you get their invite?”

“I tossed it in the trash, same as their engagement party invite, Lily’s christening party invite, and all other RSVPs I’ve been receiving from the d’Arcys.”

She doesn’t comment.

“I’m surprised you’re going,” I say.

“So am I, but… Since Raphael visited me last year, I’ve done a lot of thinking.”

“And?”

She sighs audibly. “He was too young at the time. We cannot hold him responsible for sticking with his older brother who’d been a father figure to him ever since his Papa engaged on the path of debauchery.”

“That may very well be, but—”

“You should go, too. For my sake. I’d like you and Raphael to make up.”

What?

“You don’t have to decide right now,” she says quickly. “Go back to your friends, and we’ll discuss this in person in three days.”

When I return to the bar, Sophie is sipping her wine at the long table. I sit down next to her.

She offers me a gummy bear. “No hard feelings?”

“None.” I turn to her. “You won fair and square.”

She beams.

I take the candy from her hand. “Thank you for sharing the bounty.”

“How’s your mom?”

“Fine,” I say. “She’s coming to Paris next week.”

I almost add “for my middle brother’s wedding” before remembering I’ve never mentioned a middle brother to Sophie. Or any brother, for that matter.

My lovely girlfriend shifts in her chair to face me. “Tell me something. Why did you leave Nepal two years ago?”

“So I could join a good water polo club and play professionally.”

It’s what I always say when asked that question.

“Oh yeah, I remember!” She smiles. “Nepalis are more into elephant polo than water polo, right?”

“Yep.”

But not quite.

On those rare occasions when I look into my soul, I see a more complex answer. There’s the water polo, of course, but there’s also… Maman. The truth is, regardless of all my love for her and my admiration for what she does, I needed a break. I needed to put some distance—more precisely, a dozen countries and a couple of seas—between us.

Sophie offers me another gummy bear.

I open my mouth and she feeds it to me. Unable to resist the temptation, I kiss the tips of her fingers. She stares into my eyes, biting her lower lip.

Suddenly, nothing else matters. All I want is to be alone with her in my bedroom. Or in her bedroom. Or anywhere we won’t be disturbed. With no match to play tomorrow, not even a practice session in the morning—Lucas has given us two days off—I’m planning to pleasure her until she begs me to stop. Judging by the way she’s looking at me right now, she won’t object to my plan.

Sophie’s purse rings.

She pulls out her phone and gives me an apologetic smile. “It’s Dad. I better answer it.”

While she’s outside, I go over to Uma and Sam. The boy declares that I played well, but I’m not as good as his dad who’s the best player in the world. Uma grins and ruffles his hair. Nodding in agreement, I look around for Zach. He’s sitting at the other end of the table, half listening to Julien talk about something animatedly.

His eyes are trained on Uma.

If I didn’t know Zach better, I’d say he’s leering.

But I must be wrong.

Zach is the ultimate gentleman, and Uma is an ingénue from a very conservative background with no family in France. She’s his employee. And his teammate’s best friend. Those are lines he won’t cross, if I know him at all.

Zach blinks as if waking up from a trance and says something to Julien.

I turn back to Sam and Uma, shamefaced. My sick mind must’ve misread Zach’s expression. He’s overprotective of his son. No doubt it’s Sam he was staring at—not Uma.

When Sophie returns, her smile is strained.

“Something wrong?” I ask.

“No.” She gives me a funny look. “Dad’s here in Paris. I’m sorry, but I have to go home.”