One Summer in Paris(61)

“I doubt I’ll speak to her again for a while. She’s having far too much fun in Paris to bother with me.”

Was she meddling?

So what if she was?

Mimi stood up and poured herself a glass of water. Her hand shook a little. She felt old. Tired.

She heard the sound of a chair scraping and then footsteps.

“Is the lock on your back door still sticking?”

“Don’t think you can get around me by fixing my home. Do you really think I care about a door?”

She was sick of the door.

“I have my toolbox in the car. I can easily fix it.”

She should tell him to go away, but having to tug at the door every day was driving her crazy. She’d actually kicked it that morning, and been relieved no one was around to witness her childish reaction. “Do what you want to do.”

She heard the sound of the front door opening and watched as he strode down the path to his car.

Her shoulders slumped. She’d missed this. She’d missed his visits, his conversation and his kindness.

She felt torn. Was it disloyal to let him fix things around her home? There was the wardrobe door, too, that creaked whenever she opened it.

But she was angry with him. So angry.

And then he was back, shirtsleeves pushed back revealing those strong arms. Strong. Capable. Liar.

She straightened. “This doesn’t mean I forgive you.”

“I know.” He flipped open his box and pulled out a tool. She had no idea what it was. She was good at breaking things, and hopeless at fixing them.

She watched him as he worked.

He removed the new lock from its packaging and fitted it carefully. “She’s going to make contact with this Philippe, isn’t she?”

“Do you understand the meaning of the word hypocrisy, David?”

“I’m worried about her, that’s all.”

“You lost the right to worry about her six months ago.” Why was she being so harsh? Perhaps it was because she’d also made bad choices. She’d also done things she wasn’t proud of.

He checked the handle. Opened and closed the door a few times, then closed the toolbox. “I don’t know what happened, Mimi. I don’t know exactly where or when it went wrong. It’s been a long time since I felt Grace needed me.”

“You of all people should have known how much Grace needed you.”

“How? When? She organized everything. Planned everything.”

“Of course. Above all else, Grace hates chaos.”

“And I lost sight of that in the middle of everything.” He sighed. “I went to the bakery to buy bread this morning. Clemmie gave me a stale loaf.”

Good for Clemmie.

“Clemmie is very fond of Grace.”

David paced to the window of Mimi’s small apartment and stared down toward the river.

“This place is beautiful in the summer.”

“Shouldn’t you be going? You can’t leave a child lost in a mall. It wouldn’t be right.”

He gave a weary laugh. “You’re right. I should go.” He walked across to her and kissed her on the cheek. “I’ll see you soon, Mimi.”

“Don’t worry about me. You’ll be too busy partying and trying to keep up with whatever it is teenagers like to do these days.”

He ignored that. “Will you tell Grace you saw me?”

“No. Why would I? You’re her past and what she needs to do now is focus on her future.”

“What if she gets involved with him?”

“I hope she does. She deserves to be as happy as you are.” She couldn’t remember seeing a man more miserable. “And now you know she is rebuilding her life and seeing other men, you can stop feeling guilty and enjoy your new life.”

He didn’t look as if he was enjoying his life. He looked traumatized. He fumbled his way to the door. “I’ll—Goodbye, Mimi.”

“Goodbye.”

As the door shut behind him, she closed her eyes.

So now she had a decision to make.

Should she tell Grace he was here?

Or should she keep that information to herself?





Audrey


Audrey rolled over in bed and discovered she was alone. The rumpled sheets and the dip in the pillow next to her told her she hadn’t imagined the night before.

She sat up, bleary-eyed. There was her dress on the floor. Her shoes by the door. Her clothes, signposting the events of the previous evening.

In the end they’d gone to a bar. He’d ordered a fashionable brand of beer and insisted she try one, too. The music had been so loud they’d had to sit nose to nose in order to have a conversation, although to be fair they’d done more kissing than talking. They’d been so wrapped up each other, he hadn’t noticed that she hadn’t touched her drink.

Etienne had known a lot of people. They’d drifted past, speaking rapid French, but Etienne had always replied in English so that Audrey was included.

She rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling. She liked him. She liked him.

And there was nothing wrong with her.

Remembering, she smiled.

There was the sound of a door opening and then he shouldered his way into the room carrying a tray. He paused in the doorway and grinned. “You’re still here.”