I shake my head. “There’s always tomorrow,” I tell her.

“Are you close to your parents?” she asks me, and I smile at her.

“I am very much so. My father calls me every single day just to say hello and find out if I’m okay.”

“Every day?” she asks, a bit shocked.

“It’s not like the conversations last hours. It’s just an are you okay. Good. Talk to you tomorrow,” I tell her.

“That’s nice,” she says, smiling. “Were they strict parents growing up?”

“I mean, they are very traditional,” I tell her. “We had a curfew until we left for college. And I was a good kid and listened. Now, my brother, on the other hand, there were times he thought he could climb through the window and bust out in the middle of the night.” I laugh. “Little did he know, my father had installed an alarm, and the minute his window went up, the blaring started.”

“Mon Dieu,” she says in French, laughing.

“My father came running in with a bat, only to see my brother with one foot out the window.” I think back to that day. “He got grounded for a month, and he had to do all the chores around the house.”

“So you never snuck out of the house?” She sits back in her chair, looking at me.

“I didn’t say that,” I tell her. “I just never got caught, which is why I was the good kid.” I wink at her, and her laughter fills the room. “What about you?”

“Moi?” she says, pointing at herself and shrugs. “Not much to say. I’m an only child. My family is very well-known in France, something I try to hide, so …” She motions with her fingers doing a zipper. “I came here when I was sixteen. It was supposed to be just a yearlong thing, but it turned into me going to college here.”

“What about a job?” I ask her, wanting to know everything about her.

“So curious,” she says, smirking.

“I am,” I finally say after taking a drink of water. “You’re a beautiful woman. But I want to know you.” I lean back in my chair and watch her.

“You know me better than most people.” She laughs and starts to stand. “In fact, I think you know me four times more than most people.”

“Want to make it six?” I ask her, and she looks over at me while picking up her plate.

“What happened to five?” She puts her plate down and then drinks the rest of the wine in her glass.