Lattes & Lace

by Annora Green

  But also... they had been keeping it very innocent. So far.

  “I think you said we have to leave by 7:15,” Ari reminded Sophia gently.

  Reluctantly.

  She softly grasped Sophia’s forearms, encouraging her to come out of her haze and back into the room they were standing in.

  Sophia let out a little frustrated noise and scrunched her nose. “I don’t want to go tonight.”

  “It sounded important to you this morning,” Ari reminded her.

  Sophia sighed and took a step back from Ari. “It is. Very. It’s an awards ceremony for outstanding achievements of some of the most significant fashion designers, companies, and influencers in the industry.”

  “Are you nominated?”

  Sophia shook her head. “No, but my company - well, the company that purchased FORBIDDEN - is nominated for a few awards. I have to be a team player.”

  Ari raised her eyebrows. “How’s that going for you?”

  Sophia laughed. “It’s going. As you know, being a team player is not exactly my strength. But I’m improving.”

  Sophia took a bottle of water from the top of Ari’s hotel room writing desk. She poured herself a glass and took a few dainty sips, then sat on the edge of the bed, kicking off her heels.

  “It’s just... a lot,” she admitted, looking up at Ari.

  “You handle pressure, and hard work, better than anyone I know,” Ari said.

  She finished the glass of water, took her handbag and moved into the bathroom and began to freshen up her makeup.

  “You okay?” Ari asked, stealing a glimpse of Sophia as she combed her hair and put on some earrings that she had fished out of her purse.

  She looked radiant in the glow of the bathroom light, in front of a big mirror.

  “I’m with you, so yes, absolutely,” Sophia said, catching Ari’s eye through the mirror.

  Time seemed to stop for a few seconds as they looked at each other.

  Then Ari broke the gaze by turning, giving Sophia some privacy to get ready before they left.

  Fifteen minutes later, they were in another black luxury car, being whisked across town, the creamy-white buildings of Paris sliding by outside of their window as they traveled down endless busy, crowded streets under the pale blue evening sky.

  Ari studied Sophia. A calm and focused demeanor had settled over her as they rode in the car. The casual, tired, slightly lusty woman with her shoes kicked off that Ari had witnessed minutes before in the hotel room was gone. She was done up again, elegant and polished. On the one hand, Ari admired the woman for her ability to gather it all together, rally her energy after a long day, and transform back into her sleek businesswoman persona. On the other hand, Ari longed for that relaxed, casual, soft Sophia, the one that was so deeply masked right now underneath so many professional and polished layers.

  As Sophia focused inward and became more and more focused in the car, Ari tried to mentally concentrate on the night ahead. Part of her still could not believe she was going with Sophia to this kind of event.

  When Sophia first invited her to meet up with her in Paris two months ago - and when Ari finally, somewhat reluctantly, accepted the invitation - she figured that the would see Sophia a little bit. Sure, she selected a hotel not far from where Sophia lived, but she did not want to impose too much if Sophia was busy with work most of the week. Ari had promised herself something before boarding that plane to France: she was determined to view her week-long vacation in Paris as primarily an opportunity to see a new place. After all, when else would she travel to Paris? What excuse would she have to do so again anytime soon? She had never had a reason to go before, and she may never have a reason to again. Although Sophia had obviously been a motivating factor in going, she told herself that it was, above all, a vacation, a time to celebrate the nearly two year anniversary of The Little Cafe.

  But Sophia clearly had other plans.

  Instead of getting a peek into the woman’s Parisian life, in the days since Ari had arrived, she was plunged right back into Sophia’s world.

  Especially tonight, Ari thought, looking down at her leather pants, the gemstone bracelet on her wrist.

  When the Mercedes dropped them off at the entrance to the venue - the building looked a bit like a miniature palace, although Sophia told her it was actually a museum and the awards would be held in one of the ballrooms - they were ushered upstairs in an elevator and emerged onto a beautiful rooftop garden, which glowed in the evening with millions of fairy lights that formed a canopy overhead.

  “Welcome to the pre-awards cocktail,” Sophia explained to Ari quickly.

  Sophia immediately got to work, saying hello to everyone (mostly in French, though there were some English speakers there as well). Sophia kept Ari at her side and introduced Ari to everyone they met. Sophia smiled and talked and mingled without pause.

  Ari gradually grew exhausted by the constant flow of hellos and pleasantries in two different languages. The longer they were there, the quieter Ari became.

  Finally, she ended up dropping back, quietly observing Sophia, so very in her element amongst her colleagues and peers, amongst all of the designers and creators and marketers and publicists and other individuals in her field. Sophia handled conversation and questions with grace and ease, exchanging business cards, laughing, chatting and making sure that she circulated and spoke with everyone she needed to, never seeming to tire of any of it.

  Oh, and Sophia spoke French.

  Ari had no idea how fluent Sophia was until she was introduced to a gentleman named Monsieur Arnaud who clearly did not speak English, and so Sophia smoothly transitioned into the language of Voltaire. They laughed and talked, and Ari stood there, straining to catch any words she might recognize. She had taken two years of French back in high school, a class she spent most of the time scheming up ways to skip, but could barely recognize more than a handful of the words drifting around her that night.

  Ari quietly cursed her teenage self, wishing she had skipped fewer classes.

  Sophia interpreted a few things for Ari towards the end of the conversation, before Monsieur Arnaud bid them good night and they moved on to the next group of people.

  Sophia was so at home at that cocktail, navigating the room expertly with a glass of chilled white wine in one hand, the other gesturing elegantly as she talked.

  Ari lingered at her elbow, privy to the conversations and small talk, at least when it was in English. Sophia acted like she knew a lot of people they were talking with, asking them things that were clearly tailored to their work, or business, or in some cases, Sophia even asked about their family. Whenever Sophia received questions, she smoothly and expertly talked about her work, or the company she worked for now, or FORBIDDEN, and all of its newfound success... the line had launched in nine different countries that past summer.

  “The pieces are meant to take a woman back to another time, a time when women could be unique, fashionable, wear something bespoke and made just for her,” Sophia explained to one woman, who identified herself as a writer.

  Then to another designer, she later added, “the fabrics are sourced from only the finest, most innovative suppliers in the world. I met one of them on a recent trip to Japan...”

  “You look like you’re in a little over your head,” a man with a heavy accent observed as Ari snuck off at one point in the evening, wandering over to the bar on her own to ask for a glass of red wine.

  “I am. I don’t know a thing about fashion. I don’t even know anything about fancy Parisian bar drinks, so I chose the least offensive, most universal one,” she said, raising her glass.

  The man laughed lightly.

  “You look very nice for someone who doesn’t know anything about fashion,” he said, raising his eyebrows suspiciously over his dark-rimmed glasses.

  Ari shrugged. “Don’t be fooled, it was a friend’s handiwork. Are you in fashion?”

  The man shook his head and glanced over her shoulder
at someone across the room. “No, but my partner very much is.”

  Ari followed his gaze to one of the men Sophia was talking to.

  “We can relate, then,” Ari said, her own eyes lingering on Sophia, how confident and at ease she was amongst the group.

  “Indeed,” the man said, lifting a glass of wine to his lips and sipping. “If you’re not in fashion, what do you do, Ms.-?”

  “Little. Ari. And I own a coffee shop back home in California,” Ari said.

  “Very charming. Have you tried the coffee here?”

  “Definitely. Wouldn’t come to Paris and not sample what the locals have to offer. It’s really good. I’ve learned I’m doing everything wrong,” she joked.

  “The coffee is much better in Italy, I find,” the man said. “But it’s good here as well. Actually, I had great coffee in California, so don’t sell yourself short.”

  “Do you live in Paris?” Ari asked.

  The man nodded. “I’m from Denmark originally, but I work here in Paris now. I’m an aerospace engineer.”

  “Impressive,” Ari said.

  “You and I should team up, figure out how to get better coffee on commercial airplanes,” he joked.

  “I’d like that. So aerospace engineering? You must be way out of your element at these things, too,” Ari said.

  The man nodded, “I am. This is a very - what’s the right word? - showy industry. I’m more at home behind a computer, at a desk, than these things. But Raoul loves what he does, and so here I am, being supportive.”

  “Sophia’s married to her work,” Ari commiserated.

  “What can I say. It’s what they love, and we love them. So here we are,” the man said softly, his gaze returning to the other man, taking another sip of the wine, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

  Love. Ari hadn’t thought much about that word, but hearing it leave the man’s lips gave her pause.

  The way the man was looking at Raoul, Ari knew that she looked at Sophia that way.

  She felt it in her core.

  It had been buried for many months, yes. But standing there, watching the woman navigate the room with such flair, and beauty, and grace, she knew, deep down, it was still there.

  Even after a year of waiting, a year apart, a year’s separation from Sophia - minus the few times she had seen her when she had briefly visited California for business, or to visit family - after all of this time, she felt it.

  “Here we are,” Ari echoed, and took a sip of her red wine.

  ¨°¨

  After the endless parade of cocktails and chitchat followed by a two-hour-long awards ceremony in a ballroom, capped off later that night by, of all things, an after party and what essentially amounted to a full, five-course meal, they both returned to Sophia’s small apartment. It was late, and they both had been exhausted in the car ride back, but as Sophia turned her key to unlock her apartment, Ari felt the energy rise in the air again.

  In the car on the way home, they had not even discussed the fact that they were heading back to Sophia’s place. Ari had not even brought up her hotel. It just seemed so natural, and it was so late at night, that both women had somehow forgotten that they were not, technically, supposed to be going back to the same place.

  The women toed off their heels at the door, and Sophia held her finger up to her lips as they tiptoed past the door to Percy’s room and into Sophia’s. Sophia sat down on the bed, gracefully tucking her legs underneath her. Ari sprawled out next to her.

  “You live an enchanted life,” Ari said sleepily. “I mean, just look at this room, the chandelier. And the view... the old, fairy tale street below, the fact you can see the tip of the Eiffel tower from your balcony...”

  “Are you enjoying it?” Sophia asked.

  “Of course! This is so far from my reality. So different. I like seeing your world. It’s interesting.”

  “Interesting?”

  “I like watching you in it,” Ari said, rolling onto her side and propping her head up on her hand. “You were beautiful tonight.”

  Their eyes met and Ari sat up and kissed her gently.

  Sophia shuddered slightly at Ari’s kiss, their first since she had arrived in Paris.

  Sophia hesitated, and pulled back.

  “Should we really be complicating things?” she whispered.

  Ari paused as well.

  When Sophia had left a year ago, they discussed where their relationship stood: neither woman wanted to hold the other back, and so they agreed that they were no longer a unit, and were both free to see other people, if that is what was to happen. And although the women had remained in frequent touch throughout the year, they had not spoken about it. Neither knew whether the other woman had seen someone else, or had moved on.

  When Sophia had invited Ari to visit her in Paris, she made clear to Ari that there were no strings. She was inviting her as a friend.

  But now, here they were. In Sophia’s small flat, Ari on her bed, her arms and legs and long blonde locks sprawled out on her soft white duvet.

  The little moments of flirting and shoulder-brushes and laughter and the little sparks of their faintest touches the past two days had all been a preamble to this.

  Seconds ago, Sophia had been marveling at the wonderful feeling of comfort she experienced when the blonde’s lips touched her own, Ari’s hand on the small of her back, pressing her closer.

  “When have we not complicated things,” Ari laughed lightly.

  Sophia smiled sadly.

  “But this somehow doesn’t feel complicated,” Ari sighed, kissing her again.

  They were losing themselves in each other once again, as though no time at all had passed.

  “Tomorrow,” Sophia said softly as their lips parted again a few minutes later, “is your day. I want to have dinner with you. Just the two of us. No work. I want to stop, and enjoy being with you here.”

  “Why wait to enjoy being with me?” Ari asked mischievously, kissing her deeper, her words laden with meaning.

  Sophia paused, searching Ari’s face.

  “Why, indeed,” she said, before both women surrendered, and stopped talking.

  ¨°¨

  The next day, Sophia had all day meetings, this time with suppliers. She invited Ari along, since it mainly involved visiting a variety of different textile warehouses throughout the city... it was a workday that she could easily tag along on.

  But Ari declined. Last night, she had been given a list of some of the best cafes in Paris from the aerospace engineer that she chatted with at the party. She decided to make her way through the city alone to visit a few, pleased to have a goal, to be doing some research for her own business.

  Besides, doing this would give her extra time to prepare for the evening they wanted to spend together.

  Ari had also received a restaurant recommendation from the man. She was promised that it was romantic, small and cozy, in a charming, tucked-away location, and importantly, it had delicious food. They could be seated in a small, hidden outdoor courtyard behind the restaurant and while away the hours eating local cheeses and pates, fish and steamed seasonal vegetables, and the chef’s specialty, crême brûlée.. Reservations were a must, he had warned her, so mid-afternoon, Ari - lacking the requisite language skills to make a call - made her way over to the restaurant in the St-Germain neighborhood, talked to the hostess in extremely broken French and secured a reservation for that evening.

  On her way back from an afternoon of wandering and drinking coffee - perhaps it was the clear, perfect summer evening or the three very strong coffees she had sampled that afternoon - Ari was bursting with energy. She stopped at a flower shop and bought a big bouquet of pink and red blooms, and continued back to Sophia’s apartment, hoping to arrange them before Sophia returned for the evening. (Sophia had given her a big skeleton key to the apartment last night).

  Ari beat Sophia home.

  After Ari arranged the flowers in a vase - she found one in a l
ittle cupboard below the sink - she got ready, taking a shower, washing the day’s dust and city grime off of her skin. She dressed, put on makeup, even carefully blow-dried her hair, which was something she never took the time to do. She put on dark jeans and a soft, long-sleeved shirt she had picked up from her hotel room earlier.

  And then she waited.

  Sophia must be running late, she decided, looking nervously at the clock on the cable box under the television. She turned on the TV to an international news channel, watching it for a few restless minutes before turning down the volume most of the way.

  She grew bored of scrolling through the Internet on her phone, so she went out on the balcony and snapped some photos of the street view and tip of the Eiffel Tower peeking over the creamy white roofs, solid and pretty under the evening sky.

  The sun sank lower and lower, before finally dropping behind the sea of roofs.

  They were definitely going to be late for their dinner reservations now. She wondered how forgiving French restaurants were of that sort of thing.

  Finally, at last, she heard a key in the door and with a click it opened. Sophia was home, tired and apologetic.

  “I am so, so sorry Ari. Just give me a few minutes to wash up-” she said, sliding into the bathroom and clicking the door shut.

  Ari wandered over to the television and turned it off. She glanced at the clock. It was almost 10. They were definitely way past their reservation. Some date night this was turning out to be.

  When Sophia emerged, however, she looked as fresh-faced and stunning as always. She had taken off the blazer she was wearing, revealing a soft silk blouse, tucked stylishly into a pair of black jeans.

  “Are you hungry?” Ari asked.

  Sophia smiled back at her, brushing a hand quickly through her hair. “I am,” she said, moving towards her, kissing her firmly, holding her tight. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered a few moments later.

  Ari was sorry too, and wanted to say something. But Sophia did seem tired, and she said she was starving, so...

  “Let’s go.”