Joy

Lest anyone think I’m just a lush who loves the vino, let the record reflect that I do consume my morning fuel roof-side, too.

I bring the ceramic mug to my lips, and down some of the life-sustaining beverage as I watch the city wake up. Boats glide along the water, and the morning mist burns away from the tower. I glance at my phone. I’m due at the office in an hour, and I need to make it on time. I head to the stairs, stopping briefly at the chaise. Images flash and pop of all the dirty deeds this chair has witnessed.

“Oh, the stories you could tell,” I say in a flirty whisper, bending down to kiss the top of the pillow as I pretend the chair can talk.

A piece of paper catches my eye.

Tilting my head, I study the corner of a flowered card poking out from beneath the lounge. I reach underneath and find the card Griffin gave me when he invited me to Giverny for the weekend. Did I leave it here on the roof that night when he asked me to go? I suppose it’s possible.

I pick it up and head down the steps, flicking it open when I reach the living room.

I stumble and grab hold of the railing, gasping as I read.

Words that shock me.

Words that aren’t an invitation to Giverny at all.

This is another card entirely. Maybe it fell out of his pocket? Maybe he always intended for me to discover it? Or was it never meant to be seen?

I run my finger over the blue ink of his handwriting.

A part of me wants to stay with you. A part of me wants you to ask me to. If you did, I’d do it. Cancel the trip, curl up with you, and be happier than I’ve ever been before. That’s how I am with you. And another piece of me wants to steal you away with me so we can be together. It feels impossible, but it also doesn’t. Say I’m not crazy.

My heart hammers against my rib cage. It rattles the bars. It jumps and bangs, begging me to listen. He wanted to stay with me before he knew about my job offer. He wanted to stay even after he learned of it. As I flash back to the night after my dinner with Marisol, I recall his face perfectly, the sadness in his eyes, the thickness in his voice.

“I don’t want to hold you back,” he’d told me.

“How would you hold me back? You won’t even be here,” I’d said.

When he didn’t answer, I’d pushed back. “You won’t be here, right?” I remember hoping, wishing his mind had changed.

Had it already? Had he planned to cancel his trip but then stopped when he learned of my job offer? My heart is a cyclone of emotions. It spins and whips, and there’s only one thing to do.

Run to the computer.

Tell him.

Take a chance.

Bring him home.

Scrambling to my laptop I flip it open, find his email, and tap out a message.

Re: You’re not crazy

On the terrace, I found a card you never gave me. It made me fall a little bit more for you, if that’s even possible. But it is, and that reminds me that I don’t think we’re impossible at all. I’m still here. I’ll be here. I’ll be waiting for you.

Joy

* * *

He doesn’t reply. For a minute. Then another five minutes. Ten godforsaken minutes later, my inbox is still stupidly empty. It doesn’t replenish itself in the next twenty minutes with anything but offers for coupons and news of shoe sales while I finish getting ready and head to work.

At the office, it’s radio silent.

By noon, I’ve nearly worn out the fingerprint on my index finger from hitting refresh constantly. Still no reply. Not a word, not a peep.

By the end of the day, my nerves are frayed thin, my emotions strung tight, and my sister is surely spent from replying to messages from me all day long, even though it’s seven hours earlier where she is.

I grant her a reprieve from man-talk.

Joy: Enough about boys. When will you come visit me? The French fries here are even better.

Allison: French fries. Snort. I should hope so.

Joy: Answer the question.

Allison: When you invite me. :)

Joy: You’re invited. Catch the next plane!

Allison: How about next month instead?

Joy: Deal.

Allison: Also, please arrange numerous dates with hot French men for us.

But I won’t be riding shotgun on that request. There’s only one hot Frenchman I want, and he’s British, too.

I set my phone down and return to my work. Charles helps me with the final formulations for Come What May. We speak in a mix of French and English, and we’ve finally figured out how to communicate without burning down the lab.

When I leave that evening, I nearly rip my phone from my purse to check it again. Outside the building, I smack into Elise.

“You’re stalking me?” I tease.

“I am. Now, I want you to go home, put on a pretty dress, and wear your finest shoes, because I’m taking you out tonight to celebrate.”

“You could have called and told me that.”

She links her arm with mine while I steal a glance at my email. No replies. “I know. But that’s not my way. I wanted to see your face.”

“I like your face, too.”

“Besides, it’s my job to appear randomly to remind you why you stayed in Paris. Because you have friends here, and a rich and lovely life.”

“You’re acting odd today.”

“I’m never odd.”

She strolls home with me and we chat, catching up on her work and mine, then admiring displays in windows, pointing out where we want to eat the next weekend. I ask her about Christian and whether she’s ever going to tell me if there’s something going on between them.

She winks. “Maybe. Maybe there is.”

But we’ve reached my home. “Do you want to come upstairs and wait?”

She shakes her head and gives me a kiss on each cheek. “I’ll wait for you at the café at the corner.”

I walk upstairs, my head bent over the phone the whole time. It’s been more than eleven hours. What on earth is Griffin doing? Zip-lining with monkeys? Swimming with dolphins? Lolling on the beach with beautiful women in bikinis?

I howl in jealousy at the thought.

Twenty minutes later, I text Elise that I’m on my way down. It’s late June, and this peach sundress I put on is perfect for a night out with friends. Strappy sandals are on my feet, and summer is in the air when I push open the pink door.

I stop in my tracks.

All the breath in my body escapes me. My eyes are playing tricks on me because this only happens in the movies.