Marie Sexton - Coda 05 - Paris A to Z (13 page)

entered behind me. He still leaned toward me as we talked, and yet, he stood just a bit too far away. And he still seemed to reach for me when he wanted to get my attention, but he always stopped just short of making contact.

The worst part was, I found myself missing it. Id always liked that he touched me in public, although in somewhat casual ways. Id liked the way he leaned closer when we talked, making every conversation feel intimate.

We were served a light lunch at the second vineyard, but it wasnt enough to counteract the many wines wed sampled. The alcohol made the boundaries fade. It blurred the lines between now and then. I found myself wanting to bridge the gap that had formed between us. I wanted to step closer. I caught myself wanting to reach for him. I had to fight the urge to do the things I had done when wed been together, like putting my hand on his wrist as it rested on the table between us, or intentionally nudging his knee with mine when he sat next to me at the bar.

And in fighting those urges, sometimes I lost. By the third vineyard, I felt like I was flirting with disaster.
We were standing at the bar in the tasting room. We were the only people there, not counting the young woman pouring our samples. It was cold and gray and rainy outside, but inside, it was warm and comfortable. The room was small and intimate. There was a fireplace in the corner, crackling away, and wed stripped off our coats and scarves.
Jon leaned on the bar next to me. “I think the Chardonnays overrated,” he said. “What do you think?”
I knew I was standing too close. I knew I was looking at him a bit too much. Part of me knew it was wrong, but I liked the fact that I saw appreciation in his eyes when I did it. Even after all these years, I wanted his approval. I wanted to make him happy. “I think Im drunk enough, I cant tell the difference.”
He laughed, and I looked over to see him watching me, his eyes intense. And then, he
did
move closer. He did put his hand on the small of my back, and he leaned dangerously close. “Thank you for coming with me today, Zach.”
My heart was suddenly racing, and I felt a bit giddy. “It was a good idea.”
“We were always going to do this,” he said, and his hand moved higher on my back. Did I lean closer to him as he did it, or was that just the wine? “We talked a lot about touring the vineyards in California,” he said.
“I wish we had.” And at that moment, I meant it. It wasnt that I wished we were still together. I just wished I had more good memories in my head than bad.
He was watching me, looking into my eyes. It would have been so easy to kiss him. It would have been easy to lose myself to him again. Not because I still loved him, but because I suddenly remembered so clearly how good it had felt when I had.
And then I thought about Angelo, and I immediately felt guilty. I loved Angelo beyond all reason. The last thing in the world Id want to do is hurt him. And when I looked at Jon, I saw my guilt mirrored back at me. There wasnt a doubt in my mind he was thinking of Cole.
We both looked down at the ground, as if we could see the yawning chasm of lost years between us.
And then we both took a step back.

J
ARED
and I were the first ones downstairs for dinner. Angelo arrived a few minutes later. He was like a kid, squirming in his chair, and I could tell he was practically bursting with the need to talk.

His smile was huge, and it confirmed that I was right. He had something he was dying to share with somebody, but he shook his head at me. “Ill tell you later,” he said. “I should tell Zach first.”

Apparently
that
he could talk about because he immediately launched into an enthusiastic description of whatever churches and museums he and Cole had been to that day.

Then Zach came in. Even I could see that he was acting strange, and not just because he was half-drunk. He seemed nervous, and embarrassed about something, and completely unable to meet Angelos eyes, although he made a point of leaning over and kissing him.

Angelos eyes were practically glowing when he looked at Zach, but all he said was, “Yeah. How bout you? Whatd you do?”
Zachs cheeks turned a bit red, and he fiddled with his silverware to avoid meeting Angelos eyes. “Jon and I did a vineyard tour.”
Angelos smile disappeared from his face, and his eyebrows went down a little. “Just the two of you?”
Zach finally looked over at him, and whether it was anger or guilt in his eyes, I couldnt have said, but he sounded defensive when he answered. “Jared and Matt were in Versailles all day, and you went with Cole. What was I supposed to do? Sit in the room alone?”

Angelo looked away without answering, and Jared and I both made a point of looking at our menus, even though they were in French and neither of us knew what they said. I couldnt help wishing George or even Cole would show up to lighten the mood. Unfortunately, the next person to arrive was Jon, and I felt like the air around our table was suddenly thick and heavy with tension.
“Cole will be down in a minute,” he said to the table in general, and then he turned to Angelo. “Can I talk to you alone?”
Everybody was surprised, Angelo more than anybody. He looked at Zach, and I wondered if there really was an accusation in his eyes, or if I only imagined it. Zach shrugged, and Angelo sighed, turning back to Jon. “Sure,” he said, and followed Jon to the other side of the room.
We were all curious, and we watched them like they were the entertainment for the evening. Jon was doing most of the talking. Angelo was shocked at first, and then angry, and then embarrassed, and I was unbelievably curious. Finally he crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head emphatically. Jon sighed. He said something else, and he gave Angelo something—a business card?—and they came back to the table and sat down. Neither of them said a word. They werent even looking at any of the rest of us.
Talk about awkward.
“Is your dad coming to dinner?” I finally asked Jon, mostly just to break the strained silence.
“Not tonight,” Jon said. “Hes pretty worn out from the trip.”
“Thats too bad,” I said, and I meant it because I would rather have talked to George than to Cole or Jon or Zach at that moment.
Cole arrived, bubbly and babbling and as annoying as always. He still bugged the shit out of me, but even I had to admit that the entire table seemed to breathe a sigh of relief when he sat down. He kept things lively. I had to give him that.
He called the waiter over and ordered what must have been half the menu for us, after which he and Jared fell into a conversation about what had become of old college acquaintances. I tried to engage Angelo in conversation, but received only halfhearted one-syllable answers. He