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I reached over and pushed ‘stop’ on Janey’s tape recorder and turned to her. “Saturday then?”
She coughed in surprise. “What happens Saturday?”
“We conclude the interview. You need to see a football match firsthand or your article is going to sound like a bunch of amateurish gibberish. You want to be taken seriously?”
She pressed her lips together for a moment. “Yes.”
“So do I. Saturday at noon at Stade Jean-Marc. We’ll finish the interview after.”
“Antoine wants the article in two days,” she said.
“Tell Antoine I said to wait.”
She took another long pull from the lemonade, her pride not letting her say yes to me so quickly.
“Saturday then,” she said. “For the article.”
“Right,” I said, holding her gaze. “For the article.”
She finished off the lemonade and set the glass down. “Thank you very much, Sophie. It was just what I needed.” She gathered her belongings and turned to me. “See you.”
“You have a drop of lemonade on your chin,” I said.
“Where?” Her hand flew to her mouth. “No, I don’t…”
I held out the cocktail napkin with my sketch of her, my brow raised.
Janey dropped her hand from her dry chin, fuming. I expected her to flounce away. But she snatched the napkin out of my hand, dropped it into her bag, and coolly walked away.
I wasn’t in love with her, but in that moment, I knew someday I would be.
Emma Scott is a bestselling author of emotional, character-driven romances in which art and love intertwine to heal, and in which love always wins. If you enjoy thoughtful, realistic stories with diverse characters and kind-hearted heroes, you will enjoy my novels.
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