Page 20 of Angel Eyes

She’s frustrated. That much was evident from the way she seemed set on impaling her dinner. Strangely enough, I understood the aggression, that desperate need to let it all out. After all, I’d spent years doing something I didn’t want to do just to make my father happy while putting my dreams on hold.

Until I didn’t anymore.

“My grandparents,” she said, dabbing her mouth with a napkin, “they did everything for me and Ember and asked for so little in return. Just that we keep our grades up and attend the occasional charity event.” She turned to look out the window. “My grandfather didn’t come from money, but he made his way in the world. He founded his own law firm and built it into a preeminent practice with the help of a few key partners. It was his legacy, and he was so proud of it.” I waited for her to continue as she swallowed another bite.

“My mother used to tell me he always hoped she would become an attorney, too, but in the end, that wasn’t the life for her. By the time she graduated high school, she’d already met my father while visiting a boarding school friend in Cutler, Maine one summer. That’s the town where my dad was from, the town where Ember and I grew up.”

“Your grandfather must have been disappointed.”

She shrugged a shoulder. “I can’t say for sure. I doubt he was particularly thrilled that his only daughter hightailed it to Maine at eighteen to marry a fisherman and sell beaded jewelry out of a storefront.” She laughed, the sound of it both warm and hypnotizing. “It was beautiful, the jewelry. She made it herself, actually. Ember and I used to help her sometimes.”

“That sounds nice.” I ignored the growl in my stomach. No doubt it was wondering why I had yet to touch the perfectly acceptable meal sitting in front of me. Juliet smiled in my direction, and my stomach churned for an entirely different reason.

“It was. We have a lot of good memories.” She sighed. “Anyway, it’s not like my grandfather pressured me to become a lawyer, but I felt like I owed that to him, to pick up the mantle where my mother hadn’t. Especially after his cancer diagnosis during my senior year of college. I convinced myself it was the least I could do after he’d done so much for me and my sister. And for a while, knowing how happy it made him was enough to keep me going.”

“And now?”

She shook her head, reaching for her wineglass again. “Now I don’t know why I do it. After my grandfather passed, I decided to continue in honor of his memory without stopping to think about what I wanted for myself. And by the time I did start thinking about it, I’d become so entrenched in life at the firm, I couldn’t see a way out. Thank God for good friends, I guess,” she said, toasting the air with her glass. “I wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

“Forgive me for being blunt, but now that your grandfather is gone, why not leave law behind if that’s what you want?”

As if on cue, she darted a look toward the stack of papers. “I don’t know. I’m rather good at what I do, so maybe that’s part of it. And I’m a valuable member of the team.” She rolled her eyes. “That’s a direct quote from my senior partner, Tom, which he tactfully included at the bottom of his email when he sent those documents over for me to review. I never knew him to be an ass-kisser, but desperate times and all that.”

I frowned, not much liking this Tom person. “Doesn’t he know you’re in Paris?”

She snorted. “I could be trapped in a moon crater, but if there was work to be done, he would find me. I think he might have a coronary if I ever left the firm. Not that I would …” She trailed off, worrying her bottom lip. “Kyle would never go for it.”

“Who’s Kyle?”

She knocked back the last of her wine. “My boyfriend.”

I dropped my fork with a clatter, my eyes springing to hers.

Boyfriend. She has a boyfriend.

A burning sensation ignited in the back of my throat as a streak of jealousy lanced through me. Closing a hand around my glass, I took a long drink as she continued talking, thankfully unaware of the clash of emotions warring in my chest. And for what? I barely knew this girl, had only met her five days ago. What right did I have to feel jealous?

None, none at all.

She huffed, collapsing back in her chair. “He just doesn’t get it, you know? The whole writing thing. He says it’s a waste of time. In fact, he’s still pretty pissed I came here at all.”

In an instant, my confusing jealousy took a backseat to an influx of annoyance. “A waste of time? But it’s your passion, right? Surely if he loves you, he would support that.”

“Um …” She scratched an eyebrow, her lips quivering as she forced a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Yeah, I mean, maybe. I think once I have something to show for my decision, he’ll be able to understand it better.”

“Right,” I said, rearranging the scowl that had no doubt taken up residence on my face.

“I’m sorry. I’m making this awkward. I invited you over for a meal, not a therapy session. None of this stuff is your problem.”

The crazy thing was, I wanted it to be my problem.

“Don’t do that.” My hand twitched as she placed hers on the table a hair’s breadth away from mine. “Don’t apologize for the things you feel.”

“Thanks. You’re a nice guy, Gabriel.” She drew in a breath before blowing it out again. “Anyway, I might have some exciting news to share with him soon. There’s this writing competition for a magazine—Professor Benoit seems to think I have what it takes to enter, so I’m going to give it a go.”

“That’s very impressive.” I marveled at the woman in front of me. How anyone, especially her boyfriend, could be anything less than amazed by her was a mystery to me.

“Yeah, well, first I need to put words on the page. At the rate I’m going, the submission deadline will have passed before I can so much as string a coherent sentence together.”

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