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Once Charlie felt better, he wanted to keep exploring the museums, so they walked together, contentedly, through the artworks, coming out eventually into a vast courtyard filled with marble statues.
"Wow."
"Yeah."
"This … this is so—" Before Nick could finish, his phone buzzed in his hand. Looking at it, he saw with that it was his father calling. For a moment, he didn't know what to do with that. "Oh, it's my dad. Um …" He glanced at Charlie and stepped away. "Sorry, I'd better—"
"Your dad?"
Nick realised, even as he was bringing the phone to his ear, that he had never talked to Charlie about his dad, or his parents' divorce, or anything. "Hello? Papa?"
In rapid French, his father asked if Nick was still in Paris and if he was having a good time.
"Yeah, I'm good. I'm at the Louvre," Nick replied, also in French. "Are we meeting up this week?"
"I have some time this afternoon, I could meet, if you're free."
"Oh, really?"
"There's a café." His dad gave a quick set of directions. "You think you can find it? Or are you too busy with your tour?"
"No. No, I can do that."
"Great!"
"Okay. See you soon. Bye." He ended the call and turned back to Charlie. "Okay. Sorry about that. He said, um …" His boyfriend was grinning from ear to ear, and Nick stopped, wondering what was so funny. "What?"
"You speak French. Like, fluently."
Nick laughed. He didn't know why everyone thought that was such a big deal. "Sort of. Um … my dad's French, and he basically only speaks to me in French, so … Anyway, he lives in Paris, so I've been trying to—" He stopped, realising that Charlie was still grinning widely. He was actually giggling. It was really quite adorable. "Are you— Wait, do you like the fact that I speak French?"
"Oh … It's fine." Charlie looked around, downplaying it, but it was clear that he did. "It's cool."
He started walking away, and Nick laughed and followed him. "Charlie!" He caught his boyfriend's hand. "Mon amour."
"Oh, my God, you're so cringe!"
"You actually don't look like you're cringing," Nick pointed out, pulling Charlie closer when he tried to tug his hand away. "You look like you're blushing."
"I am not!"
"Oh, yeah? Sure?"
"Leave me alone, you dick!"
As Nick held him and Charlie playfully struggled to get free, they were basically on the ground, when suddenly a loud voice from above them cried out, "No!" They looked up to see a man in black, no doubt a museum employee, standing there and glaring at them. In French he said, "None of that here."
Laughing, they got up and ran, Charlie leading the way, until they were at the top of the atrium, looking down, and the man in black had gone.
They leaned there, getting their breath back, and Nick took the moment to tell Charlie what he should have told him before. "My dad wants to meet up, like, today."
"You've never mentioned your dad before."
"I mean … he's not really a big part of my life anymore, since he lives here, and … he's not the most … reliable." It was hard to start from the beginning and explain to Charlie what it had been like those first few times in Paris, left alone with babysitters while his dad went out, and then later when birthdays and Christmases and holidays passed without a call or a visit, and how gradually his dad had begun to seem like this shadowy figure who didn't really exist, except occasionally in Nick's imagination. "He's still my dad, so …" Of all the people Nick wanted to come out to, his dad was the top of the list, because for once he would actually know something about Nick that was important, that said who he was. "I had this idea that I might introduce you to him."
Charlie smiled. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." He was relieved that Charlie seemed to like the idea, that he didn't think it was weird or not want to do it. "It's just hard to get in touch with him when he never answers my texts."
"How about … we promise to tell each other when we've got stuff going on?"
Nick smiled. "Deal."
They embraced, Nick closing his eyes. He felt so much closer to Charlie now—knowing about Charlie's eating thing, knowing that Charlie had trusted him to tell him at least some of the truth, not deflecting or saying it was fine or pretending that there was nothing; having told Charlie at least some of the way things were with his dad. It was one thing to be boyfriends, to have fun and hang out and kiss, but this was … something more. This was caring and support and letting each other in to parts of themselves they didn't talk about with anyone else.
When they let go, Charlie asked, "When are you actually meeting up with him? And how?"
"I said I'd meet him in a café in twenty minutes."
Charlie reached out his hand and Nick took it, and together they left the Louvre.
Hand-in-hand they made their way across Paris. If he'd been alone, Nick might have been nervous, worried about how things would go with his dad, dwelling on past hurts and trying to practise what to say. But he was with Charlie, so it was all an adventure. Almost like the day at the beach—just the two of them, surrounded by Parisians who paid no attention to them at all.
Nick almost wished they would never get to the café, so they could just be like this all day.