It’s gotten late and I didn’t expect much of anything to still be open. But Amelie’s is open twenty-four hours a day.
“I’ve always wanted to come here,” I tell Dallas, squeezing his arm as we step inside. The menu is a giant chalkboard and the vibe is trendy and upbeat despite the late hour. “How did you know?”
“Seemed like a Robyn-type place,” he tells me with a self-congratulatory grin. “So I did good?”
I feel like a little kid at Christmas. “So good,” I gush, barely managing to tear my eyes from the display cases full of sugary confections.
Once we’ve ordered, we both descend on our coffees and sweets. Mostly I do a lot of inappropriate moaning, stopping just short of having a When Harry Met Sally moment.
“So you never told me,” Dallas says before shoving the last macaron into his mouth after I turned it down.
“Told you what?”
“What your dream is.” He meets my amused smile with a serious stare. “I’m serious. You know mine. We talk about it all the time. Hell, you’re watching me live it. So what’s yours?”
I take a bite of my caramel apple tart and chew slowly while I contemplate this. “Mine’s not as exciting as yours.”
“What? It doesn’t have to be exciting. Your dream is your dream and fair is fair. I showed you mine, now you show me yours.”
I feel the heat that sweeps across my cheeks. “Pretty sure I’ve shown you mine more times than I can count.”
Laughing, Dallas shakes his head at me with amusement sparkling in his blue eyes. “There’s my dirty girl.”
I roll mine. “I don’t know, Dallas. I don’t think of it as a dream, I guess. More like a goal.”
“Okay,” he says slowly. “Tell me your goal then.”
I take a sip of my coffee and decide to buy a French press ASAP. “I have way more than one.”
He smiles like he knows this about me already. “I’ll text the driver and let him know we’re walking back to the hotel from here. These goals of yours, let’s hear ’em.”
22 | Dallas
“WELL, FOR STARTERS,” ROBYN SAYS, HOLDING UP ONE FINGER, “I want to be successful. I want to be the best at what I do. I want to be recognized for my sacrifices and hard work but not with like, a Grammy, or anything. Just with raises and promotions. So I can buy lots and lots of shoes.” She winks and I shake my head.
“Well, I think you’re the best damn marketing events promotional person there is.”
She’s grinning when she corrects me with her official title. “And I want to be happy, you know? Not just content. But full-on happy.”
“Full-on happy?” We’ve almost reached the hotel but I want to hear her explanation of this so I slow our pace.
She nods and her voice is soft when she speaks. “Yeah. I want to love and be loved and I want to smile and laugh and be grateful for all that I have every single day.” Her eyes don’t leave mine as she continues. “I understand what you meant about getting caught up in the tour and the interviews and the media stuff. Sometimes it’s easy to just shift into autopilot and go through the motions. But I don’t want that. I don’t want to just ‘get through’ my life. I want to really live it and enjoy it. I want to experience everything that I can while I can.”
Her words flow out of her mouth and into me.
Is this what this is? An experience? One with an expiration date because I’ve set it up that way?
There’s a convincing smile plastered on my mouth but Robyn listing her life goals is doing something strange to me. It’s like listening to someone tell you what’s going to happen after you die.