“My parents liked you,” she went on. “I think I’m going to tell them tomorrow who you are.”
I frowned. “Why?”
She shrugged. “Mom’s been asking about Chance this whole trip. It wouldn’t be right not to mention to her that you are Chance.”
“Do you think she’ll care?” I couldn’t help but ask. “That I was your teacher?”
“I don’t think she will,” Natalie replied. “They are not ones to care about something as superficial as that. We’re both adults, and we didn’t do anything wrong, despite the university’s policy.”
“That is entirely subjective,?
? I pointed out.
Natalie’s expression didn’t change. “I suppose it is,” she agreed.
“There’s another reason not to tell them,” I said.
“Which is?”
“We’re not together anymore,” I said.
Again, her expression stayed the same. “Hmm.”
That answer surprised me, and I started to question what had led her to ask me out for dinner in the first place. It was almost like she had moved on and she wanted me to know that. I gulped back my questions and stared at the menu. We ordered a couple of dishes and the moment the waiter cleared our table, I checked my phone, as though I had more important places to be.
I realized that I had a message from Lindsey. All it said was, “You’re welcome.” Puzzled, I scrolled down to see if there was more to the text, but she hadn’t written anything else.
“Chance?”
“Yes,” I said, looking up at Natalie.
“You seem distracted.”
“I…have lots on my mind.”
“Anything you want to share with me?” she asked, and I wondered if it was just my imagination or if she was trying to coax something out of me.
“Not really; I’m not the one who requested this dinner.”
I was being rude, and I knew it, but I hoped that my attitude would make it easier for her, but it was killing me inside. Why did she have to look so damn perfect?
“What are your plans?” Natalie asked.
“My plans?”
“Are you planning on staying on as a professor?” she asked.
“Uh… I’ve been offered a position at the university,” I admitted. “A permanent position, but… I don’t think I’m going to take it.”
“You want to move again?”
“Maybe a year or two in Germany,” I nodded.
“What about France?”
I frowned, unsure of Natalie’s motives and confused by her line of question. “I’m done with France for the time being,” I said. “I don’t think I’ll see Paris for a few years at least.”
“I miss it,” she said. “I think about it every day.”