“Anyway,” he continued, bringing me back to the present, “I have one more sister named Chloe. She’s your age and at the Art Institute of Dallas actually.”
“What’s Christina up to?”
“She’s in PR in Manhattan. She’s married to a pretty good guy.”
“What his name?”
“Pierre. He’s French.” He snapped at an idea. “I have the best idea. When I introduce you to my parents, you can translate the private conversations between my sister and her husband. It drives the family crazy.” My heart beat frantically at the thought that he expected me to meet his family. “Wait,” he thought out loud, “you’ll probably just join them against us. Never mind, I change my mind.” He smiled at me.
“Your sister speaks French?” I asked, hoping I didn’t give away my ridiculous excitement that he saw a future with me.
“Yeah, they met during college. Her university had a campus abroad in Paris. Enough said.” I smiled at him. “My mom and dad are both teachers.”
“Cool. And what are their names?” I asked him.
“Walter and Michelle, but you can call my pops Walt.” He fiddled with the zipper of his jacket, seemingly nervous. “I’ve wanted to ask you something, January, but I wasn’t sure how to ask.”
“Just say it,” I prodded him with my shoulder.
“I’m going back to the States for a week for Kelly’s wedding and I-I thought maybe, if you want, you could come as my date?”
I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. I didn’t know how to answer this. I did want to go with him to New York, I really did, but it was just too freaking weird knowing I’d be meeting all his friends as he watched the girl he just recently considered the lost love of his life get married. I mean, yeah, he said she meant nothing anymore but no one can just shut off like that and he hadn’t even gotten an opportunity to get over her properly.
Suddenly I realized I needed to be very careful.
“Shit,” I heard him say, breaking me from my thoughts.
“What?”
“I’ve scared you off, I can tell.”
“No, it’s just-it feels weird you asking me to see Kelly get married. I don’t know her, but I feel this weird thing for her. I don’t like her.”
This made Tom laugh. “Baby girl,” he said with a bit of his inherited Texas lingo. He picked up my hand and kissed the back. “If I have to spend the next month convincing you she’s nothing to me, I’ll do it. She doesn’t even hold a candle to you, MacLochlainn.”
Thomas
The Windmill Festival was just a few days before Kelly’s wedding, but we weren’t going to Paris just to sit around and wait. The label bought us rail passes to pal around Europe, allowing us to check out as many bands as possible. We were starting in Paris because I wanted January to see the band Jamaica and a few of their starting lineups the next night. I’d planned on working our way through Europe by rail until the festival and then head straight home for the wedding, which surprisingly the thought of didn’t affect me at all. I didn’t even feel a dull ache. It was as if my body had forgotten all about Kelly and I knew I had January to thank for that.
Damn, that girl was incredible. Zap.
I had a week to convince her to come with me. She was coming home with me. She was definitely coming home with me.
The next night, we waited in line to see Jamaica.
“Did Jason talk to Georgia Asher?” she asked me.
“I think so. I hope it went well. She’s going to be huge and I hope we get credit for her.”
“We will,” she told me, her smile reaching her eyes.
I studied her. “You have really beautiful lips, January.”
She shyly pinched them together, a red flush crept across her face. I grabbed her face and brought those lips to mine until they were loose again and she kissed me back.
When we pulled apart, her eyes widened and she fought a smile.
“What?”