Discretion (The Dumonts, #1)(19)

“That you met a very handsome French man who promised to take care of all your needs.”

She slowly shakes her head, a smile spreading across her face. “You are unbelievable.”

I lean in close to her, breathing in her sweet vanilla scent mixed with the fresh minerals of the sea. “Lapin, you have no idea,” I say softly into her ear.





CHAPTER FIVE

SADIE

“So tell me all about Spain,” my mother says. “How is Barcelona? Or are you in Madrid? It’s hard to keep track.”

“I’m in Barcelona,” I tell her. I hate lying to my mom, but there’s no way around it right now. If I were to tell her the truth about what happened to me, it would only make her worry, and she’s so stressed out as it is, that’s the last thing she needs. Best to just let her think everything is fine.

There’s a long pause over the line. “Are you okay?” she asks.

I clear my throat and try to sound more chipper. “Oh, yes. For sure. Just a bit tired from all the traveling, you know.”

Another lie. I’m a bit hungover, plus groggy from all the painkillers. Yesterday I drank a little too much during the day with Olivier, which resulted in me going to bed around dinnertime. In fact, I think I was nodding off just as he was about to order in food, and I have vague memories of him bringing me to the bed, after which he left, and I got under the covers and passed out.

I’ve been nothing but a class act with this guy.

“I knew I should have waited another hour or so to call,” she says. “I just hadn’t talked to you in so long, and you’d said it was impossible to sleep late in a hostel anyway.”

“No, you’re right. I’m glad you called. So how was work?”

My mom would have just come off her late shift at the diner, her job at the moment. Normally, my mother goes through jobs every few months, unable to hold one down for long, thanks to her constant battle with bipolar disorder, but it seems like this one has been good to her.

“It was all right,” she says with a sigh. “I had a tough go the other day . . .” She trails off, and I know she doesn’t want to tell me what happened. But at the same time, I know she will. She has no one else but me to confide in.

“And?” I prompt her.

“Well, the good news is that I still have a job.” She laughs nervously and then groans. I can picture her now, rubbing the heel of her hand into her forehead as if she could break through to her brain that way. “But, darling, I was in a bad way. I just couldn’t get out of bed. That black hole, that void, it had me, and I honestly didn’t think I’d ever get out of it.”

My heart squeezes. I know what she’s talking about. I’ve been in that void myself. But I know it’s nothing compared to what she feels and deals with on a daily basis.

I’m afraid to ask, but I do. “How many shifts did you miss?”

“Two,” she says after a beat. “But they were very understanding. In fact, Agnes who works here—I think I told you about her in an email I sent you—she’s very eager to take on any missed shifts. So if I ever have a hard time, I can always call her, and she’ll cover for me.”

I breathe out a sigh of relief. She’s never had this level of support before at her jobs. I know my mom tends to keep everyone at arm’s length, and for good reason, but maybe because I’ve been gone, she’s actually been able to branch out. She’s relied on me for so long for company and emotional support, and as much as I’ll never ever turn my back on my mother, it does take its toll on me. I’ve been shouldering her burdens for as long as I can remember, even before my father left us.

“I thought I saw Tom the other day,” she says, switching the subject in the most horrible way.

I groan out of habit, though I have to admit that ever since I met Olivier, Tom hasn’t been on my mind like usual.

“I was tempted to run him over,” my mother adds. “I’ll never forgive him for what he did to you.”

“Me neither. But it doesn’t matter.”

“He ruined your vacation, sweetie.”

I’m smiling, just a little. “It’s getting better. I promise.”

I stay on the phone for a few more minutes while my mom makes herself Sleepytime tea and gets ready for bed. Then I hang up and try to summon the energy to get myself out of my own bed.

It doesn’t help that it’s insanely comfortable, and lying here is like being held in the palm of heaven. Even my pounding head and the faint throbbing in my ankle seem to take a back seat in this bright-white room—clean and pure and luxurious all at once.

Now that I’m fully awake, my mind naturally goes to Olivier.

How can it not?

I mean, good Lord.

I don’t know if this is karma for having a pretty shitty childhood, or Tom dumping me, or what, but I know I should stop questioning it and start enjoying it. The man is just too unbelievable to be real, starting off with the Pretty Woman–style breakfast in bed, followed by day drinking bottles and bottles of his own champagne while lounging in the Mediterranean sunshine. The conversation flowed easily, as long as we weren’t talking about me, and there were numerous occasions when he reached out and touched me in some way. Every time his skin made contact with mine, I felt like we were connecting on some cellular level, like something deep inside me recognized something deep inside him.