As if hearing my silent plea, Jean-Charles met me halfway. Before I could say anything, he wrapped his arms around me pulling me tight to him. My arms pinned by my side, I let him hold me. Nuzzling into his neck, I breathed him in.
"You are okay," he whispered against my hair. It wasn't a question. Instead, it sounded more like an answer to a prayer.
My heart swelled as I nodded against his shoulder.
"I am hearing these things about something bad on the roof. About you and your father." Still holding me, he leaned back to look at me. "A bomb?"
"It's over now." I didn't want to explain. I couldn't find the words. I avoided the emotion.
Somehow he understood. "Yes. It is over. And the angels brought you back to me." He dropped one arm, keeping the other one around my shoulders so we both faced in the direction I'd been heading. He urged me forward. "Come. I will feed you, if you like. Or I have wine…or perhaps something stronger. A good Cognac to settle the nerves." He chuckled, a deep rumble that hit my core with warmth. "Your nerves and mine."
A line snaked from the entrance to the Burger Palais, which we bypassed, making me feel guilty. Every table was full but, amazingly, a couple sitting at the bar had just paid their check, and they relinquished their stools to us. Jean-Charles made sure I was comfortable. Normally I didn't like anyone fussing over me, but tonight it made me feel good, chasing away the demons of the unknown. Stepping behind the bar, he put his hands on the counter and leaned toward me with a smile. "What'll it be?"
I looked at all the bottles on the shelves behind him. Everything from sipping vodka—Tito's was my favorite—to Napoleon brandy, to the stuff in the Baccarat bottle that cost a king's ransom for a couple of sips—I didn't have the palate nor the ego to go there. After a moment of thought, I met his clear blue eyes that held undisguised emotion. Was this what love looked like? "You know, I'd really just like a super thick vanilla shake."
He shot me a grin, then reached over and squeezed my hand as if he could see into my heart and understood. Then he stepped out from behind the bar and disappeared toward the kitchen.
Staring at my reflection in the glass behind the bottles, I realized I didn't look half as bad as I felt. The shiner made a bit of a statement, but the rest of me looked somewhat normal, which didn't feel at all…normal. My life was still on tilt, but from the looks of me, it was hard to tell. I guessed that was a good thing.
The conversation of the couple next to me captured my attention. "That song. My God, it's wonderful," the lady said as she bent to sip a pink drink through a straw.
I listened to the tune playing in the background and my heart fell.
"
Lucky for Me
, I think it's called," the lady continued. "I saw the guy on
Good Morning America
this morning. He wrote it for a lady who works here." She turned to her male companion who looked bored. "I wonder who she is? She could be sitting right here and I wouldn't know it."
The lady glanced around, catching me staring. "It could be you," she said.
I gave her a weak grin. "What are the odds?"
She reached out and tapped me conspiratorially on the arm. "Wouldn't it be grand? I mean, to have someone love you like that?" Then she sighed as she pressed her hand to her heart.
"Mmmm," I answered with my usual erudition. When she turned her attention back to her partner letting me off the hook, I almost sighed out loud. Listening to the strains of music, to Teddie's soulful voice, I had to admit the song was wonderful, perfect even.
Except for the whole broken-heart thing.
I pulled my iPhone out of my pocket—a new acquisition, I wasn't used to the whole app thing yet. But I did know how to work iTunes. I searched the store, found the song, and downloaded it.
There it was,
Lucky for Me
, in my library. Then the phone asked me if I wanted to make it my ringtone.
Without thought, I hit yes.