Page 99 of When Ben Loved Jace
That seems unlikely. Jace never suggested that we visit any of his friends while here. This is his first trip to Paris too, aside from layovers… which are just long enough to have a fling. Jace always has the opportunity to have affairs, but I generally don’t worry about such things, because Itrusthim. Over the past three years we’ve been together, that trust has never been broken. So why suspect him of anything now, so far from home? And I wouldn’t, except…
Just the other day at the hotel, after I got out of the shower, I heard Jace talking on the phone. He was speaking French, which isn’t too surprising. He always tries to pick up the basics of the local language, no matter where we go. Me? I’d rather speak English extra loud and slow for the natives. Or when ordering at a restaurant, I’ll simply point at the menu. Not Jace. He’ll rattle off practiced sentences, charming both the server and myself in the process. For him to attempt a phone call in a foreign language is unprecedented. When he realized that I was standing there listening, he immediately hung up and spun around, as if caught.
“Just getting some advice,” he explained without being prompted.
I would have simply shrugged that off, had it been the only oddity. On our first night here, after we checked into our room, Jace ventured out to buy drinks and snacks. While he was gone, I unpacked our bags, filling the drawers with clothes and the bathroom with toiletries. I was finishing up when he returned.
“What are you doing?” Jace demanded, as if I’d done something wrong.
“Getting organized,” I explained.
He just stood there, his face burning, as if waiting for me to challenge him on something. But what? I hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary when unpacking. No surprise gifts. No love letters addressed to Pierre. Not even embarrassing medications like hemorrhoid cream. I couldn’t figure it out then, and I’m just as puzzled now, because it’s our final day here and I woke up to find myself alone.
Being the dedicated detective that I am, I rise to use the restroom before retreating immediately to the bed again. I’ll crack the case from here while resting my weary legs, because we’ve done an ungodly amount of walking. Jace had the whole trip planned out, ensuring we’d see all the most important sights. And he certainly didn’t spare any expense when booking this room. We usually rely on well-known hotel chains, since he racks up enough points in his line of work that we get to stay for free. This time he booked a charming little studio apartment on a residential street, complete with its own balcony.
Clearly he decided to spoil me in this way to make up for the secret affair he’s been having while I sleep at night. That must also be why he exhausts me with a new adventure each day. So devious. So calculating! I don’t believe any of that of course. If it was any other guy, I’d be checking his phone, reading deleted emails, going through his pockets, and whatever else it took to catch him in the act. The wonderful thing about Jace is that I feel completely safe with him. Secure. So while I am concerned that something is going on, at worst, he’s dealing with a personal matter that he’s not ready to reveal. Like how he needed time to open up about Victor completely. Such things can’t be forced, so I relax, think about all the fun we’ve had on this trip, and sigh contentedly.
When the door to our apartment finally opens, Jace enters with bags in each hand, an alluring scent reaching my nose.
“How does breakfast in bed sound?” he asks.
“Amazing!” I say, sitting up in excitement. But when he sets the bags on the kitchenette counter and opens the curtain, I change my mind. “Actually, can we eat out on the balcony?”
“Of course,” he says with a smile.
“Do you need any help?” I ask in tones that relay just how lazy I’m feeling.
“No no,monsieur,” he says with a generic French accent. “Please! I would not dream of it. We will take care of everything!”
I’m a lucky boy. All I have to do is lay there and watch as he gets everything ready. Although I do sit upright when I notice him carrying a bottle.
“Is that champagne?”
“Come find out,” he says seductively.
I finally drag my rumpled ass out of bed. Jace continues the waiter act, escorting me to a wrought iron table and matching chairs so he can seat me before a small buffet. I honestly couldn’t name what most things are, but there’s a variety of pastries and breads, both sweet and savory. Most crucially of all, already waiting on the small plate set before me, is a croissant. I like the cheap kind we get at home, but here they are especially delicious. Incredibly so! I’ve eaten an embarrassing number of them this trip.
I’m reaching for the croissant when a suddenpop!makes me flinch.
“And of course, you cannot have breakfast, wizzout ze champagne!” Jace says as he begins to pour.
“I think you slipped into a German accent there,” I tease him.
“I better stick to my own then,” he says, finishing his work before settling down on the other side of the table.
“Champagne for breakfast,” I say, shaking my head in wonder. “How decadent!"
He raises his glass. “Not if it’s served with a French toast.”
I laugh before raising my own. “To an amazing vacation?” I suggest.
He shakes his head. “To us.”
We clink glasses, his eyes sparkling for me as we each take a sip. “Just don’t drink it too fast,” he says after setting his down.
“Why? Is it expensive?”
“No. Well, yes, but I don’t want you to get drunk.”
