Page 56 of The Autumn We Fell in Love

“So,” I say, grasping at the first conversation thread I can, “what was Yale like?”

One corner of Laurent’s lips lift. “Beautiful. Exciting. Frustrating.”

I rest my chin on one hand, considering him. “How so?”

He pokes at the base of his wine glass with one finger. “With its historic architecture and gardens, it’s a physically beautiful place to exist. And as home to some of the top minds in the country, maybe even the world, it was an exciting place for a young guy with lofty dreams to get his education. And frustrating because of how many people there are so damn full of themselves and their self-perceived greatness.” He wrinkles his nose in amusement. “Hashtag Ivy League problems.”

“As someone who never went to college, the whole thing sounds just as terrifying as it is intriguing.”

Smirking, he says, “How so?”

I bite back a grin at how he fired my own question back at me. “Terrifying because of all the new people and places to navigate. And the tests. Intriguing to be at a place solely dedicated to matters of the mind.”

Laurent chuckles. “Well, it’s definitely also dedicated to money and prestige. In some folks’ estimation, at least.”

I lift a single brow. “Hashtag Ivy League problems?”

He laughs. “Exactly.” Then he leans his head to one side, appraising me. “I wouldn’t have thought someone as smart as you would be scared by a few exams.”

“Just because you’re smart doesn’t mean you’re good at test-taking. Just ask my high school GPA.” I wince.

“Well, GPA isn’t everything.”

“Tell that to Yale,” I tease.

“They wouldn’t care one bit about your GPA, no matter how low, once they got wind of your app development work.” He divides the rest of the pinot noir evenly between our two empty glasses.

And now I’m blushing all over again. Time to shift subjects, to get the spotlight off my tomato-colored face. “What did you say you majored in? Business?”

“And philosophy,” he nods.

“I’m surprised that a business and philosophy expert knows so much about the world of apps,” I say, nursing my freshly refilled glass.

Laurent shakes his head. “I’m no expert. Although I am a pretty baller negotiator, if you’ll allow me to toot my own horn.”

I grin. “I love a guy who toots.”

That earns me a belly laugh from Laurent. The sound floods my chest with honeyed warmth. I love making him happy and bringing joy, even if it is through fart jokes.

“But seriously,” he continues after a moment, smiling wide, “it’s my job as a businessman to keep a close eye on what’s making the world turn. And app development is one of the places where that’s happening big time.”

I nod. “That makes sense.”

“I like to do that at least once a week,” he teases, crossing his arms over his wide chest.

I open my mouth, but my retort dies on my lips when our server returns with two exquisite desserts.

All thoughts of business and tech development and Ivy League problems fall away as we dive into our desserts. Two bites in and we’re both moaning almost obscenely in delight at how freaking good our treats taste. We trade bites of each other’s, and Laurent’s torte is just as good as my crème brûlée.

This is it, I decide as I crunch through an amber shard of caramelized sugar. This is the perfect moment. I have achieved peak happiness. I’ve got a beautiful man I love talking with, good wine, and the best crème brûlée I’ve ever eaten. Nothing can possibly beat this moment.

But then I look across the table to meet Laurent’s eyes just as he licks red raspberries from his spoon. Suddenly my crème brûlée is all but forgotten. I find myself wondering, mouth ajar and gaze fixated on my date, what his tongue might feel like on my body’s pinkest, most intimate place.

Laurent

I’ve been good all evening. I’ve barely touched Shira even though the more time I spend with her, the more I want to wrap her body in my arms, clasp her to my torso, and kiss her with all the feeling I possess.

But now, belly full of our delicious meal, mind hazy from wine, and the tart flavor of my favorite dessert sharp and sweet on my tongue, I allow myself to be a little naughty.

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