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“Well, I guess I should head back to the house,” she says. “I can drop you off at your office first if you want, unless you want to pick up your car.”
I glance down at my phone and check both the time and my calendar. It’s nine thirty. I have nothing major happening until eleven.
My stomach rumbles. “I’m starving. Let’s grab breakfast. There’s a great little café around the corner.”
As we head outside, a question gnaws at me. Why did Marley want to know if Isa could travel on a plane?
FIFTEEN
NED
Café Du Monde is surprisingly quiet at this hour. Because of the cool morning weather, we decide to grab a bite inside and find a table that can accommodate Isa.
Marley sets my now sound-asleep baby in her car seat carrier on the table, which is covered by a red-checkered tablecloth. She takes the bistro chair closest to Isa while I sit across from her.
Our night nanny’s breathtaking eyes circle the small, charming restaurant. Though I haven’t been here for a few years, nothing has changed. There are a dozen tables, and the menu is written on a chalkboard that’s nailed to a wall behind the fresh bakery. On the other walls, there are reproductions of belle époque posters. The most famous being Toulouse-Lautrec’s Moulin Rouge.
“This place is so charming! It doesn’t seem like a place that a man of your stature would frequent.”
I laugh. “Yeah, it’s definitely not the Polo Lounge, but then again, nothing is. My mom used to take me here when I was a kid. She was French, and it reminded her of her childhood in Paris.”
“Your mother…the famous actress, Isabelle Laurent?”
“You’re familiar with her?”
“Yes! Who isn’t? I’ve seen all her films. I’m kind of a movie buff. She was amazing!”
A cloud of sadness falls over me. I adored my beautiful, doting mother. Maman. “Yeah, she was amazing. Both an incredible mother and actress.”
She reaches across the table and cups her hand on mine. It’s soft and warm. A current of electricity runs through me. I feel a connection to her. Stronger than I’ve felt before.
“I’m sorry for your great loss,” she says softly, her eyes melting into mine. “The People magazine tribute to your parents was outstanding.”
“Yeah, it was a tragedy.” Both my parents died two years ago in a terrible boating accident. Their yacht blew up. “Hey, let’s not talk about it. Let’s talk about you.”
A slight blush falls over her high cheekbones.
“Hey, you know you’re pretty enough to be an actress,” I say as she releases my hand.
Her blush deepens. She lets out a chuckle. “That’s sweet, but I have no interest in being on the screen. I’m more interested in being behind the scenes…”
“Oh?”
Her expression brightens with pride and confidence. “I’m an aspiring screenwriter. I’m almost done writing a movie.”
“Oh, really? Why don’t you tell me about it?”
“I’d rather wait…and knock you dead when it’s finished.”
“Fair enough. But you know, if it’s good, I can help you. That’s what I do. That’s what IMAGE does. We make movie magic.”
“For sure, I’ll take you up on your offer.”
Just then, Isa wakes up and cries at the top of her lungs. Her peaceful face scrunches up and turns beet red. Calmly, Marley reaches into the baby bag that’s resting on the chair next to her and pulls out a bottle. She sets it on the table and slides the car seat closer to her.
She comforts Isa, gently brushing her hand on her scalp. Then moves a hushing finger to her lush lips. “Shh, my sweet baby. I know you’re hungry.”
I watch as she angles the bottle and guides the nipple into Isa’s ready mouth.
