Revealing Us (Inside Out #3)(21)

She’s hit a nerve I do not want to exist, and I barely contain a linch. I’m not the daring, beautiful creature that she is and, though I felt quite secure earlier, right now I fear I eventually won’t be enough for Chris.

Her eyes gleam with satisfaction. She knows she’s gotten to me, and I hate that she knows. “I have a feeling you’d be surprised at a lot of the things Chris likes,” she comments, tucking a strand of long blond hair behind her ear. “You know, he’s going to get called for one meeting after another by everyone and their uncle in the art world. That’s what happens the minute he enters the city. You’ll get bored. Stop by the shop if you like. I’m at the Script, of the Champs-élysées. It’s a short walk.”

She smirks, and even that is pretty. I have a feeling she’d look good with the lu, while I look like something from a zombie apocalypse when I don’t get enough sleep. Like now.

“I’m sure Chris and I will get by that way.”

“Come alone so we can talk about the tattoo,” she encourages.

“Tristan will be there, too. He can give you a lesson.” The cat-that-ate-the-canary look is back, and I’m sure she’s not talking about a lesson in French.

She waves two ingers at me. “Later, ma belle.” She walks down the stairs, and I don’t turn to watch.

I have no clue what just happened. I only know that Amber isn’t going away. Neither am I, so I’m going to have to ind a way to deal with her.

I’m not sure how long I sit at the island in the kitchen, trying to igure Amber out, unwilling to risk another encounter with her before she is inally gone. Not even the idea of her fawn-ing over Chris will lift me from my seat. Finally the need for a shower, and my curiosity over who was at the door and why Chris is taking so long, wins out.

I head to the living room and Chris is entering from a hallway on the opposite side of the room, wearing a white T-shirt and talking on the phone in French. I’ve never been so happy to see the man dressed.

Chris ends his call. “Let’s go get a shower, order food, eat, and then sleep.”

“I’m all for all of those things in that order,” I agree, walking with him up the stairs.

“That was the security guy at the door who looks after our place and a few others around here. Rey is his name. He stopped by to give me a stack of messages.” He runs a hand over his jaw. “One was from Katie and John, who’d heard about what happened on the news and kept getting fast busy signals when they called me.”



I stop at the mention of his godparents. “Oh, no. We were supposed to be at the chateau today.”

“Yeah,” he conirms. We start walking again. “I feel like crap for not calling them.”

“How did she know to call here?”

“Jacob told her we were here.” His phone rings and he glances down and back up. “Speaking of Katie.” He answers the call. “Hi, Katie. Yes, I’m okay. We’re both okay. You’re right.

I should have called. I just wanted to get Sara out of there.” We walk into the bedroom and Chris glances at me with a question in his eyes. “You want to talk to Sara?”

I nod and accept the phone from him. “Hi, Katie.”

“Sara, honey, are you okay?”

I sink down on the bed and my heart twists. I don’t know her well, but she has this motherly quality that stirs the emotions I’ve tried to bury deep down inside about the mother I lost, and who I’m not sure I ever really understood, and the loneliness that had followed.

“Sara, honey, are you okay?” Katie repeats.

I clear my throat and watch Chris slide open a long closet that covers most of the wall and matches the white inish. “I’m ine,” I assure her. “I’m sorry we made you worry.”

“I wish Chris had brought you here, not taken you to Paris.

You’re a ish out of water. How long will you be there?”

“Indeinitely,” I tell her, and I’m surprised that I’m glad I’m here and not there. Katie and John are a part of Chris’s past and present, but Paris is where Chris feels he needs to be to truly open up to me.

“Oh dear,” Katie frets. “That’s what I feared. Did you plan for this, or take of because of the problems here?”

“We’d started talking about it, but hadn’t had time to plan.”

“I can see why that felt important, but you’re in for quite the culture shock. Some people do well, while others really struggle. Do you know how to speak French?”

“No, I—”

“That’s what I feared. Okay. That’s a big part of enjoying your time there. Don’t fret; we’ll remedy this. I have a friend who has a niece who’s in school there to be a language instruc-tor. Give me a few minutes and I’ll see if she can tutor you, then I’ll call you back. What’s your direct number?” I give it to her and she adds, “Everything is going to be wonderful. We’ll take care of you.” She ends the call and I sit there stunned. This woman barely knows me, and she’s already swept me into her family circle. I haven’t had that since my mother died. Truth-fully, not ever.

“Everything okay?” Chris asks from the closet, where he’s hanging a shirt from his suitcase.