Page 43 of French Kiss

“You, without a doubt, are anything but an idiot,” Josh said.

My only attempt at art was tearing off a strip of the paper tablecloth and shredding it into pieces before balling them up. I was kind of mad at Maddox, but really, I was mad at myself. “Ugh! I’m still so pissed at him.” I still couldn’t get my brain around the fact that he’d ghosted me. “You could have told me Maddox wasn’t ever interested in me. Or maybe you did tell me, and I ignored you. I know it’s not your fault.”

“Look, it’s just what he does. You shouldn’t take it personally.” Josh sighed, and I could tell he didn’t really want to talk any more about Maddox or our busted chance at romance, but I couldn’t help it. I was still fixated on the rejection. In my academic life, if I set a goal, I always achieved it. I wasn’t used to failing, even if I knew that love didn’t follow the same rules.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “We don’t have to talk about this.”

“I think we do. You do. You’re never going to be able to enjoy yourself here if you don’t get it out. So talk. Say what you have to say.”

I looked at him and saw from his plaintive face that he did want to hear me out, even if I was an annoying broken record. I vowed to get this out of my system and move on. “I guess I’m feeling stupid for deluding myself into thinking I meant something different to him. It was my own ego, like I could change him or be something to him that would make him want to have a real relationship.”

“Okay… but do you see that it has very little to do with you? He was playing with your mind. He liked having you there, waiting in the wings for him. Maybe coming to meet you here would take that away. And he likes the idea of you still being out there as a possibility.”

“True. If we get together, there goes the fantasy. Why didn’t I see that?”

“Because you didn’t want to see it,” Josh said.

He was right. He also didn’t deserve to have me sit there and pour out my sad story for one more minute after he’d taken a train from Germany to be there for me. In that moment, I actually felt freed from giving Maddox any more thought, and my attention shifted to my good friend who I cared about more than anything.

“You know what? I think I’m done talking about him. Or thinking about him. I really am over it. Really.”

“It’s okay if you’re not. I guess I didn’t know you felt this way about him. Or maybe I didn’t want to know. He never seemed worth it.”

“No, you’re right. He’s not.”

Josh looked up at me, his long lashes shading his grey-green eyes. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but I knew he had to be skeptical about my sudden reversal. Any sane person would.

“Really,” I said again. “Let’s go back to your diagram, and you can tell me where we’re going next. You’re the expert. I trust you.”

He nodded, seeming satisfied that I was finally done being morose and whining over Maddox. I vowed to keep any new rounds of self-pity to myself. Josh stopped doodling and drew little boxes on his map, a few on each side of his river. “Here’s where we are now,” he said, pointing to a box and sketching two small glasses on it. “And here’s where we’re going next. The Rodin Museum. It’s open until five, so we can still get in and see the exhibit if we’re fast, but the main thing we have to see is the gardens. You’ll be amazed. It’s so peaceful back there—at least, if it hasn’t changed since I was there last.”

“When was that?” I asked, and he hesitated. “Did you come here with your French high school girlfriend?”

“No. I told you, that was a million years ago. But I did come here with a girlfriend.”

“Tell me. Who?”

“Lily. We dated for the last two years of college,” he said.

“Where is she now?”

“Charleston, South Carolina. She works at the aquarium there. She’s a marine-mammal specialist and a conservationist.”

I didn’t know why I felt so shocked to hear about her. It wasn’t like I knew everything about Josh, but a relationship for half of college seemed like something he’d have mentioned at some point. I tried to remember if I’d asked about the people he’d dated. Maybe I’d just assumed he hadn’t dated that many people because I couldn’t picture myself dating him.

“And you guys came here together?” I asked, picturing them sitting at the same table where we were sitting. I wondered if he planned to revisit all the places he’d gone with her.

As though sensing my train of thought, he said, “I’m not taking you on a Lily’s-greatest-hits tour of Paris. Don’t worry.”

“I’m not worried. I just feel like I should have heard something about her before. But whatever. Tell me now. What was she like? Why did you break up?”

“Eh, I’m not sure I want to wander down that whole memory lane, but I’ll tell you she was about five feet tall, blond, and adorable, and she never met an animal she didn’t want to rescue. She was my first long-term girlfriend, and I thought I’d never love anyone as much as her.”

“Doesn’t sound like someone you’d break up with.”

“Yeah, well, she broke up with me. I was headed to med school across the country, and she was practical. I couldn’t blame her.”

“Do you think about looking her up now?” I asked. “Maybe the timing is better.”

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