Page 24 of Bitter Prince
“Amon, long time,” she said, switching to French.
Taking a step back, I smiled at such a cute scene but remained quiet, letting them have their moment. Maybe the boy who saved me all those years ago was still in there, hiding.
“Nice to see you again, Oba.” I wanted to ask him what that word meant. If nothing else, maybe I could learn a few new words in the language during this pseudo-date. After all, Amon was the only Japanese person I’d ever met.
The woman’s gaze turned to me, eyeing me curiously. I felt it touching my skin, and for some reason, I didn’t think she approved.
“And who’s this?” she asked in French.
Amon pulled me forward so we stood shoulder to shoulder. “Oba, this is my friend Reina. She’s from California.” Well, at least he called me a friend and not a nuisance. “Reina, this is the woman who used to be my mother’s nanny, but she’s more like an aunt to me.”
I smiled, extending my hand to the woman who was now beaming after Amon’s introduction. “Nice to meet you, Miss Oba.”
Amon and Oba chuckled softly while my eyes darted between the two, wondering what was so funny.
“Oba means aunt,” Amon explained.
I blushed, shifting uncomfortably on my feet. “Oh, I’m sorry.”
She took my hand, tilting her head. Her eyes bore into me, studying me, and I wondered what she saw. The disapproval in her eyes faded away and she smiled. “You can call me Oba.”
My eyes flicked to Amon, wondering if that would upset him. He shrugged, but before I could open my mouth, she spoke. “He doesn’t decide who I’m Oba to. I’m Oba to him and I’m Oba to you, because I say so.”
Then she bowed. Unsure what to do, I mimicked her movement. “Nice to meet you, M—” She cut me off with a look, and I corrected, “Oba.”
She smiled, looking at Amon once more. “She’s a keeper.”
Amon’s expression didn’t falter. I wished he would say something, but he remained quiet.
“Do you have a table to spare for us?” he said instead, now speaking English—for my sake, I assumed, although I spoke French fluently.
“For you, always.” She led us toward the back of the restaurant, stopping at a table with a view of the Seine and the glimmering lights of Paris.
I gasped. “This is gorgeous. A little hidden gem.”
Oba smiled. “Now you know. And you come and see me.”
I nodded eagerly. “Absolutely. I love Japanese cuisine.”
We sat down at the small table as I flicked another glance at the sprawling view. A boat sparkling with festoon lights floated along the Seine, looking like it was drifting on a dark cloud.
“Do you often eat Japanese food?” Oba asked me curiously as she cleaned the table of excess silverware.
I shook my head. “My grandma would usually take us once a year.” On the anniversary of my mother’s death, but I didn’t say that. Those were dark memories. They had no room here.
“I hope we see you more than once a year,” Oba said.
“For sure. I have another two and a half years of study, so you’ll see me again. I’ll bring my sister and friends next time.”
Satisfied with my answer, she patted Amon’s cheek. “Shall I bring out your favorite?”
“Anything you have, Oba,” he answered. “Don’t go out of your way for us.”
The expression on Oba’s face told me she planned to do exactly that. Once she was gone, Amon’s attention returned to me.
“So, why yoga?” I blinked at the abrupt change of subject. For a moment, I thought about lying, of trying to think of a response that would please him, but I just shrugged.
“My therapist recommended it.” His eyebrow rose but he didn’t comment, his dark gaze studying me. If I wasn’t careful, I could get lost in the galaxies behind it… Amon might be good at keeping his thoughts tucked away, but I was even better at extracting them. I dug for them until my curiosity was satisfied. Or for justice, at least when it came to my deaf sister. The kids at boarding school could sometimes be cruel, and I’d always made it my mission to protect Phoenix from it. At any cost. “Meditation helps to keep my panic attacks at bay.”
