Page 19 of The Loophole

“I’ll show you how to make them when we get home. There are a couple of tricks to it, but once you get the technique down,they’re actually pretty simple.” I selected a rectangular box of macarons in a rainbow of colors and handed the cashier some money.

Embry turned to me with wide eyes. “You know how to make those? For real?”

“Sure. I had to take several pastry courses when I was in culinary school, and this is one of the first things we were taught. I always thought they were fun to make.”

When I handed him the box, he looked surprised. “For me?” I nodded, and he said, “Thank you, Bryson.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Would it be okay if we ate these now? I’m really hungry.”

“Of course, but didn’t you have lunch before we left San Francisco?”

“No. I was too nervous to eat before our flight.”

“Let me buy you a meal.” We’d passed at least five restaurants on our walk around the edge of the casino.

“This is all I want for now.”

We took a seat at a table outside the bakery, under a fake tree with teardrop lights on it that were meant to resemble rain. Embry raised the lid on the box and frowned. “I hate to mess up the rainbow, but I also really want a cookie. I guess I’ll eat the green one, since that’s my least favorite color.” He carefully split the cookie down the middle and gave me half. I tried to tell him he should have all of it, but he insisted. Then he took a tiny bite and murmured, “It’s delicious. I thought it’d be lime, but it’s not. Do you know what flavor it is?”

I ate my half and told him, “It’s pistachio. That’s actually the flavor I always bought myself at my neighborhood bakery when I was living in Paris.”

“Oh, wow. How long did you live there?”

“For seven months, right after culinary school. I got to train in two fantastic restaurants.”

“Do you speak French?”

“I’m a little rusty, but yeah. I studied it in school, and I also learned a bit from my French relatives. We stayed with them a few times when I was growing up.”

He murmured, “Paris must be incredible,” and ate another morsel of the cookie.

“Have you thought about visiting?”

I was surprised by the wistfulness in his voice. “No, because it’s something I know I can’t have. When I told you I’ve always been broke, I meant it. Even though seeing Paris would be a dream come true, it’s always been way out of my reach.”

He met my gaze and added, “I’m not complaining, though. I believe in focusing on all the good things in my life, instead of feeling sad about what I don’t have.”

“Maybe you can take a trip with some of the money you’ll get at the end of this.”

“As tempting as that is, and as amazing as it would be to see Paris, I need to be smart with that money. If I use it to launch the business I told you about and manage to make it a success, it’ll be a way to take care of myself for years to come.”

I almost told him I’d take him when I got my inheritance, but I stopped myself. What if we blew it and didn’t get the money? Or what if he hated me by the end of this? It would be awful to make a promise I couldn’t keep.

Once he finished his cookie, he broke the yellow one in half and shared it with me as he said, “Tell me about Paris. What were your favorite things about it?”

I told him a few stories while we sipped our huge drinks and finished off the cookies. I was afraid he’d find them dull, but he seemed fascinated.

After a while, a loud, boisterous bachelorette party paused nearby, while one of the women took off her stiletto heels andstuck them under her arm. It was early afternoon, but they were already pretty drunk.

Embry called, “Congratulations, beautiful bride! We’re getting married, too!”

The women whooped and cheered. Then a brunette in a red dress teetered over to our table and slurred, “Here, sweetie, you need this.” With that, she popped a tiara on Embry’s head and handed him her sports bottle, which was shaped like a huge, pink cock.

Embry exclaimed, “Yay! Thank you,” and raised a toast to them with the dick as they continued on their way.

“Maybe don’t drink whatever that is,” I advised.

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