my real name now though. The Richard Steele you found in New York is me. I don’t have a website for my business. I work exclusively through referrals.”
I nod, more curious about him than ever but hesitant about asking more. Not just because I don’t want to push him away. But also because I’m afraid that the more I know about him, the more I’ll care about him.
And I’ve got to be careful not to do that.
“I guess it would be silly to ask you to tell me your original last name,” I say at last, slanting him a smile so he’ll know I’m teasing.
“It might not be silly, but it would be futile.” He takes a weird little breath. “I’m not that man anymore.”
“Okay. I know how that feels. Not exactly, of course. It would never occur to me to change my name. But I know how it feels to want to start again. Remake yourself. Give yourself a second chance.”
He leans down to kiss me, murmuring just before he does. “Or even a third chance.”
Even a third chance.
A third life.
Maybe I’m not the only one who’s been trying to get there.
We start walking again, doing so in silence. Without realizing it, my eyes linger on a couple across the park from us. They’re obviously American tourists. The young woman has dressed up in what I’m sure she considers Paris style, complete with a scarf around her neck and a twirly skirt.
She’s adorable. Probably at least five years younger than me. She and her boyfriend or husband are holding hands. They pause to take a selfie together. Then they kiss.
They’re together. For real. They look like they’re deeply in love. And they’re having the time of their lives here in Paris.
Maybe they’re on their honeymoon.
I glance over at Richard to see his eyes have been on my face, but they slide away when I turn my focus back on him.
It occurs to me then. Anyone who sees Richard and I together here might think the same thing.
And they’d be wrong. We’re not together in that particular way.
I might be wrong about that young couple too.
Going through the motions of a romance—in bed or in the world—doesn’t make it real.
“What’s the matter, Gillian?” Richard asks softly, drawing to a stop again.
I shake my head and wrench my eyes away from the couple. “Nothing. Just thinking.”
“About that couple?”
“Yeah.” I give a little shrug, trying to think of a way to articulate the revelation I just had without it sounding like I’m hinting something I’m not. “They’re cute.”
“Then why did they make you sad just now?”
He’s so, so observant. It’s unnerving. “They didn’t. Not really. I was just thinking you can’t really tell what’s going on with people merely by looking at them. That couple looks like they’re in love, but who knows if they really are. People go through motions all the time.”
“Yes. They do.”
I’m feeling jittery now. For no good reason. I swallow hard and avoid his eyes. “I used to watch couples like that all the time, wishing I were them, wanting what they had, believing I was missing out on life because I’d never found anyone to love that way.”
“And you don’t feel that way anymore?”
“I don’t know. Do I want to fall in love? Of course. Do I want to find someone who feels like he’s the one the way Matt did to me? Yes, I do. But I’m not sure what we see of people is really what’s happening with them, so wishing you were in someone else’s place is a pretty silly thing to do. I used to think I’d get to the point of feeling...” I trail off, realizing how personal this is. How intimate. How much it reveals of my soul.
Richard is silent for a moment. Then he puts a hand on my back and keeps it there as we start to walk again. It’s more than a minute before he murmurs, “You used to think you’d get to the point of feeling...?”
“I don’t know,” I admit. “Feeling like others appeared to me. Like something other than me. Like I’d eventually get there if certain things happened to me?”
“Get where?”
“That’s the point. I don’t even know. It just felt like there was something missing in my life and that there was something that could happen to me that would eventually fill it. Change me.” I sigh, glad we’re walking so I don’t have to meet his too-perceptive gaze. I have no idea why