One Summer in Paris(82)

“I’m guessing it’s because you really like him.”

“Yeah, there’s that. And people judge you if you don’t drink. They think you’re weird, or no fun. I don’t get it. I don’t get why you have to drink to be cool. Anyway, obviously he doesn’t think I’m cool because I didn’t even see him after he went to get a drink. He never came back. So this blinding headache and all that throwing up was for nothing. He probably did a runner with someone who speaks perfect French and can hold her drink.” She stood up and carried her plate through to the kitchen.

Seeing the tension in Audrey’s shoulders, Grace followed.

“You don’t know that’s what happened.”

“It’s what men do, isn’t it? They run when things get tough. I mean, technically your guy didn’t actually run, but he did leave. It’s easier than sticking.”

Grace sifted through the words and tried to find the deeper meaning. “You’ve seen it happen often?”

“Yes.” Audrey rinsed her plate. “I don’t blame them. My mum isn’t easy to live with. Love isn’t always a rosy, shiny thing, is it?”

“No.” Grace made more coffee. “It isn’t. How’s the headache?”

“Almost gone. You’re a genius.” Audrey glanced around her. “Shit—I mean, darn, I lost my purse last night.”

“I have it safe.” Grace put the coffee in front of her and toasted slices of French bread. She put it on the table along with creamy butter and a small bowl of apricot jam. “You barely touched your eggs. Eat a little more if you can.”

“You found my purse?”

“It was on the bathroom floor.”

“I have no recollection, but thanks.” Audrey sat back down at the table and spread butter and jam on the toast. “I guess that makes us even. A purse for a purse. Hey, I sound like Shakespeare!”

Grace laughed and handed over the purse. “It didn’t look as if anyone had tampered with it.”

“This toast is delicious, by the way.” Audrey ate toast with one hand and pulled the phone out of her purse with the other. “Woah, I have sixteen missed calls. Shit. Sixteen?” She caught Grace’s eye. “Sorry. Absolutely did not need to swear then, but it kind of slipped out. What can I say? I’m a work in progress and probably not about to rival Shakespeare any day soon. I hope it’s not my mum.”

“Is it?”

Audrey checked and shook her head. “They’re all Etienne. Sixteen missed calls.”

“I guess he didn’t do a runner, then.” As she said it, there was a knock on the door.

Grace stared at Audrey.

Audrey stared back and then swallowed. “Do you think it’s him?”

“If he has an ounce of decency, then it will be him. And if it is him, I might even forgive him for leaving you. Do you want me to answer?”

“You’d ignore the door for me?”

Grace discovered she’d do just about anything for Audrey. “If that’s what you want.”

“Yeah?” Audrey grinned. “Would you rob a bank?”

“I have limits.”

“Good to know. Well, it’s probably better to get this over with.” Audrey rubbed her cheeks and swept her fingers through her hair. “How do I look?”

“Stunning, which is actually annoying given the night you had.” Grace walked to the door and opened it. Etienne stood there looking like he’d had a worse night than Audrey. His hair was messy and his skin was pale.

“Mrs. Porter.” He spoke in French, desperately trying to be formal. “I’m sorry for disturbing you, but I’m looking for Audrey. She’s not in her apartment, and she’s not answering her phone. I don’t know where she is. I’m worried about her, and it’s all my fault—” He looked so anxious Grace almost felt sorry for him, and then she thought about Audrey lying on the floor of the bathroom. Vulnerable. Alone.

What if she’d dropped her phone or hadn’t wanted to bother Grace?

What if she’d been too drunk to make the call?

She gave him the same look she used on her class of eleven-year-olds when they were misbehaving. “How can you not know where she is? Weren’t you together?”

He flushed awkwardly. “I went to fetch her a drink and bumped into someone I knew. I was only a minute and when I came back, Audrey had disappeared.”

“A minute?”

He eyed her. “It might have been longer than a minute. I’m worried, Mrs. Porter. When I came back she was gone. Someone said they’d seen her with an older woman. I know you and Audrey are close, so I thought maybe it was you—” His face drained of color. “If she’s not with you, then I need to call the police.” He looked so traumatized that Grace felt herself soften.

“She’s with me.” She opened the door. “You can come in, but—oh—” Her words were cut off as Etienne hugged her. She felt his gangly body and was reminded that he was barely more than a teenager himself. It was such a complicated age.

“Thank you for taking care of her.” He released her, clumsy, embarrassed. “Sorry, it’s just that I’ve been imagining—”

“Hi, Etienne.” Audrey stood there, her riot of russet curls emphasizing the pallor of her skin and the dark hollows under her eyes.