Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 61922 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61922 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
“Do you still have angst?”
“Yeah.” Winnie kept his gaze forward, his expression hidden behind his dark glasses. “I think it’s tied to my Peter Pan syndrome.”
“You don’t want to grow up?”
“No, it’s more that I don’t know how to do it. I haven’t used my degree for anything newsworthy, and I’m not exactly killing it as a stylist. I can’t decide if it’s time to move on or try harder.” He opened his palms and inhaled deeply. “You’re lucky to be passionate about your work. I’ve never had a job I wanted to do all night long. Ever.”
I stuffed my hands into my pockets and squinted at the traffic below. “My work is a nice escape.”
“From what?”
“Twenty-first century problems,” I replied. “I’m paid well to travel back in time to piece together aspects of an ancient civilization that thrived for thousands of years. I can dive into my favorite era and reconstruct the temples and palaces of Ramesseum, imagining what life would have been like at a time of incredible prosperity in the reign of Ramses the Great. I can get lost in fragments of lives long gone with bits of pottery, shards of jewelry, and mummified pets. It amazes me to think someone like us wore that necklace or bracelet on their skin, held that cat in their arms, fed it water or milk from a bowl…just as we would. All that separates us is time.”
“Huh, I’d never thought of it like that. No offense, but musty old stuff in museums doesn’t do much for me. If you hadn’t taken me to the Louvre, I would have gone on my own and skipped out as soon as I got my selfie in front of the Mona Lisa. Hashtag ‘why so glum?’ ”
I barked a laugh. “There’s no need to apologize for not sharing my interests. I’d be more surprised if you did. You’re a thoroughly modern man, Winnie—vibrant and curious, and very much in tune with what’s cool and trendy. I’m not.”
“You’re cool.”
“Am I really?” I snorted in dismay.
“In your own way…yes.”
“Well, I’m definitely not trendy.”
Winnie stepped aside, cocking his hat as if to get a better look. “No, you’re not.”
“You don’t like my jumper?” I asked, plucking at the fabric.
He slid his sunglasses down his nose and pushed them into place. “Beige is making a comeback, but you’re riding that wave too hard. Blue is your color. Trust me, it’ll make your eyes pop.”
I twisted my lips in amusement. “If you say so.”
He playfully bumped my elbow on the railing and sighed. “Sounds like we’re both in the market for a little escape. Paris is mine and work is yours.”
“I hadn’t thought of it that way.”
“It’s not totally accurate. Your escape has meaning and purpose. Mine is an opportunistic getaway that I hope ends with a flash of chalance.”
I laughed. “You have an interesting habit of repurposing the English language.”
“Do I?”
“Chalance isn’t a word, Winnie. Perhaps you mean clarity?”
“No, chalance sounds better. The opposite of nonchalance,” he insisted, bumping my elbow again.
I returned the favor as if we were old friends, then turned to study the surrounding landscape—the fluffy white clouds, the trees turning orange and yellow, and the French flags dotting the avenue.
I’d been here many times, but I couldn’t remember the last time I’d wanted to linger and soak in the atmosphere. There was always work to do, important research that was crucial to furthering our collective understanding of the past, yet for the first time in ages, I was very comfortable right where I was…in the present.
Of course, I couldn’t stay here for long.
“Do you see the obelisk straight ahead in the Place de la Concorde?” I pointed at the huge phallic-shaped slab of vertical red granite in the middle of the roundabout down the avenue from the Arc de Triomphe. “It’s over three thousand years old and is one of a pair—the other is still in Luxor.”
He gaped. “That thing is three thousand years old? For real?”
“Yes. It was gifted to Paris in 1833. Interesting, since Napoleon went out of his way to conquer Egypt just over three decades earlier. They claim he wanted to damage British trade routes to India, and yes, I’m sure that’s true, but Napoleon had quite an ego,” I rambled on. “Some say he wanted to walk in Alexander the Great’s footsteps and—sorry, I’m lecturing.”
“I don’t mind at all.”
“Really? I would think that—what’s wrong?” I cocked my head as if it would help me decipher his expression.
“Kiss me,” Winnie blurted, tugging my sleeve as he grinned at me.
My glasses slipped on my nose as I furrowed my brow, pivoting to face him. “What—here? Now?”
His smile had an enigmatic quality I couldn’t interpret, but the desire was easier to read. It had been a long time since anyone had looked at me like that. It was hypnotic.