I asked, “So what will you do now?”
“It depends.”
“Depends on what?”
“You.” He reached across the table for me, brushing my fingertips. “I’m afraid to hope. I know I’m not worthy, at least, not yet. I’m working on it.”
My heart constricted. Was this how Aunt Evelyn felt when Girard came back to her? They had decades apart; Marc and I had days. The uncertainty of not knowing if love remained defied the boundaries of time: seconds or years, the gnawing anxiety was the same.
“What do you want?” he asked.
This was what I wanted. My aunt’s words echoed in my mind. She saw my future or helped orchestrate this with Girard. It didn’t matter which, the result was the same. I wanted nothing more than to say yes, but I had to make sure that he knew where I planned to go.
“I’m going to Shanghai to train to be a matchmaker.”
Marc pulled back. “This is a recent development.”
“Yes. I figured out what I want to do with my life.” I told him about Aunt Evelyn’s theories, and the resulting changes. Marc, to his credit, listened and didn’t interrupt.
After I finished, he asked, “So you’re set to leave for Shanghai after Paris?”
“Yes, with a brief stop in Palo Alto to talk to my parents and the rest of the family.” I bit my lower lip.
“I guess I’ll need to brush up on my Mandarin then.”
“Wait, you want to come with me?”
“I was thinking of leaving Paris, but I didn’t know where to go. Now I do.”
I sobbed. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I covered my face. He wanted me. He would move thousands of miles to follow me—to be with me. The years of rejection had built a reservoir of deep despair, which, now crumbling, poured from me in heavy tears.
“I didn’t mean to upset you.” He knelt beside me. “If you don’t want me to come along, I can—”
“I love you, Marc.” I wiped away the last of my tears.
“I love you too.”
I grabbed his gorgeous face with both hands and kissed him. He tasted like sugar and coffee. The warmth of his lips and the heat of his kisses sent shivers down my spine. His strong arms lifted me from my seat as his fingertips danced across the exposed skin of my back. I pressed my hands against the front of his jacket, feeling the strength of his solid chest underneath.
We moved together, re-created The Kiss in the flesh. Nothing else in the world mattered more.
* * *
* * *
After the kisses, I apologized to Aunt Evelyn and Girard for the delay in their meal, and Marc joined us for the rest of dinner. He took his place beside me and held my hand on the table.
“I take it you’ll be going with her to Shanghai?” Girard asked him.
“Yes, I think I can find work there.”
“You have my reference and I can provide you with the names of some of the restaurateurs I know. I have no doubt you’ll have interviews after you land.” Girard’s expression softened. “I didn’t make it easy on you after I found out Evelyn was moving back to Paris. I acted inappropriately and placed undue pressure on you and the staff. I’m sorry. You will all receive an added bonus with your paycheck. It’s the least I can do.”
“Apology accepted. No one takes heartbreak well. I know I don’t, and luckily, this time I don’t have to.” Marc squeezed my hand under the table.
“My niece chose well,” Aunt Evelyn said. She had a playful smile and gleam in her eye. “You’re as handsome as Vanessa described.”
I giggled when I saw him blush.
“If you’re also accompanying her to Palo Alto,” she continued, “you need to be prepared. The family is quite challenging. You’ll need to be coached. Vanessa’s parents are wonderful, but her aunties are the ones you need to watch out for.”
“Auntie Evelyn!” I protested.
She shushed me and leaned closer to Marc. “They are sweet on the outside, but inside they are like a Molotov cocktail. The moment your plane ticket is printed, they’ve already done a background check, so don’t even think about glossing over any details. Being truthful and vocal about your commitment to Vanessa will be your saving grace. If you play your cards right, you might even be treated to the first taste of Gloria’s famous rice-stuffed chicken.”
Marc and Girard listened in as my aunt pointed out the obvious landmines in etiquette and conversation. I couldn’t tell if the two men were horrified, fascinated, or a mixture of both. My aunt spared no details and, as much as I wanted to interrupt or protest, she told no lies.
“Are they expecting a marriage proposal?” Marc asked.
“Vanessa has never gone on a second date before you. Of course they are. No matter what you do, just tell them, firmly, that it’s between you and her.”
“I mean, I’m not ruling it out in the future, but we need more time.” He turned to me and grinned. “It’ll be nice to spend more time together.”
I poked his shoulder. “In Shanghai, if you survive my family.”
A red thread appeared, winding its way from his heart to mine. It glowed and shimmered, matching the brightness of the one between Aunt Evelyn and Girard. My thread was thin in comparison to theirs, the width of one of Auntie Ning’s chunky yarns for her crochet projects. It didn’t matter how it looked, I only cared that it was there.
I loved this man and he loved me. For the girl who grew up devouring romance novels, I finally had a chance to write my own.
Destiny was mine to shape. Love was the only business I wanted to be in. There was no greater cause than giving people the joy of finding their soul mates.
Epilogue
One year later, in Paris
Le Papillon Bleu was busier than I remembered. Marc and I walked up to the mosaic mural of the blue butterflies hand in hand. We landed in Paris the night before, and settled into a nearby hotel. The jet lag wasn’t as horrible as the last time I landed in the city.
I leaned my head against his shoulder. “Do you ever want to come back and work here?”
“It depends on where you’ll be after you graduate.” He kissed the top of my head and pulled me closer.
“If I pass. Madam Fong is hard to read, but said I have at least another six months left, if I work hard. We’ve been away from family for too long.” I turned my head and gave him a peck on the cheek. “I’m glad we squeezed in the visit to Montreal to see your family.”
“I can’t believe Dad asked you for tax and investment advice.” Marc sighed. “I told him you’re not doing that anymore, but he always needs more opinions. He collects them like basketball jerseys.”
“I don’t mind. I talk to Ma and the aunties often enough to get a gist of what the general trends are investment-wise. I don’t miss being glued to my desk though.” We stopped at the entrance of the restaurant.
I adjusted the collar of his charcoal sports jacket and gave the hem a little tug while Marc tucked a stray strand of auburn-brown hair behind my ear. I smoothed down the short silk charmeuse skirt of my scarlet strapless gown. My aunt had established the dress code when she sent the invitation. The meal she and Girard promised would be spectacular to mark the occasion.
“Shall we go?” I asked.
He offered me his arm and we walked inside.
After Marc chatted with some familiar faces, the host led us through the busy dining room and toward one of the private rooms. The last time we were here, we were in the Mucha room. This time, the door opened to the Lalique room. Inside, Aunt Evelyn and Girard waited for us along with Uncle Michael and Jack. All were dressed for the occasion: tailored suits and a sparkling silver off-the-shoulder gown on my aunt. I was soon surrounded by cheek kisses and embraces.
Once we all took our places at the table, the questions began.
“We are all dying to know how your studies are going.” Uncle Michael handed me a Bellini.
I thanked him and took a dainty sip. The drink wasn’t too sweet and it was refreshing. “I think Madam Fong likes me? She appreciates that I work hard, and underneath the general crabbiness, I think she respects me.”
“I take it that the Mandarin lessons Marc’s been giving you haven’t stuck?” Jack asked with a chuckle.
“No. I’m fine living my life knowing only English and mangling it most days. I have him as a translator wherever I go anyway. It comes in handy.” I gave my boyfriend a saucy grin. “You don’t mind, do you?”
“Not at all.” Marc kissed my cheek. “In addition to being a translator, I also cook. I know the way to her heart is through her stomach.”
“It’s the open secret that applies to everyone in the family.” Aunt Evelyn nodded.
Girard added, “When we visited California last summer, I think I spent more time eating than I did talking to family.”
“I was introduced during a wedding. Ten courses of food to keep the conversation flowing. What I want to know is if both of you got to taste Gloria’s specialty dish?” Jack asked.
Marc and Girard both replied yes at the same time.
I sipped my aperitif. “It’s because you’re all handsome. Our family is shallow. No one wants to admit it.”