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“Wait.” She held up her hands. “I was not involved in what happened with Landon and Trevor. I told the prosecutors everything. Please believe me. I’m devastated you lost your baby. I’d never intentionally hurt a child—”
“But you did hurt me and my baby,” I choked and pressed my chest. “You deceived me and Ben. You mocked my family when I told you about my dad’s cancer.” I drew in a breath and wiped the corner of my eye. “You…you didn’t come to the—the room….” The memory surfaced of me on the floor in the bathroom, bleeding for hours. Sick. Terrified. Alone.
“I—I was told you were sick and resting.” Her voice was full of anguish.
“And that was enough for you?” My voice cracked. That would’ve never been enough for me. I would have done anything to help her.
Tears fell down her face, and she pulled out a cloth from her bag. “I…I wish I’d done things differently. You were nothing but nice to me. At the time, I agreed with Sophie. We both tried to help you. I tried with the surrogate agency, and Sophie tried with Lollipop. She did wrong there, and I called her out, but when things started going well for you, you completely ghosted us. We both had to ask you repeatedly to hang out, and you behaved suspiciously when I only wanted to look around your place.”
“As I told you, it wasn’t just my place; I shared it with Paul, and I had to respect his privacy, too.”
“We made mistakes and are remorseful. I—I can’t sleep. I’m sick over all that happened. Please forgive me. I wish we could start over. I wish I could’ve shown you real friendship.”
Bile rose in my throat, and my stomach twisted in knots. Real friendship meant she was aware that she was always pretending. She wanted to care now, but she wasn’t real when I gave her my confidence. I was done. I didn’t owe Isabelle anything, and I was sorry I’d kept this conversation going as long as I had. “Isabelle, look. I don’t know what you expected from this conversation, but that part of my life isn’t something I want to talk about anymore. Honestly, please don’t contact me again.”
Her eyes widened and her lips parted, but she said nothing. What are words now when you destroyed trust? There was no way forward, but I hoped she’d do better in her future.
I put my bag on my shoulder as she watched me as I stood and walked into another gallery wing. Goodbye, Isabelle.
What I couldn’t work out was why. Why come to Paris to find me? What had she really wanted? My stomach lurched. I just wanted that part of my life to be over, and I hated that it still wasn’t. Move forward, Nadia. The past needs to stay in the past.
Those words stayed with me as I left the Louvre and walked to the Metro subway station. I leaned against the building until the nausea passed. Then, I sent a quick text to Gunnar.
Nadia: Isabelle followed me from the fashion show today into the Louvre Museum. She tried to talk to me about the case. I did speak to her about how I felt. I hope that won’t affect anything.
Isabelle was looking at potential jail time, too. Had she come to sabotage the case? Or get me on her side? I wasn’t sure, but was certain Gunnar would know what to do. My phone vibrated with his reply.
Gunnar: She was warned not to contact you. I’ll file a restraining order against her tomorrow and have a word with security. If you didn’t give her new information, we’re fine. Do not speak with her again.
I replayed our conversation in my head. There was nothing new shared. Thank goodness.
Paris had felt like a haven away from my troubles. I’d dropped my guard, and once again I was reminded I wasn’t anonymous. But I won’t let her or anyone else make me afraid again.
I was going to call Laurence for a pickup, but instead I decided to do something I’d wanted to do since I thought about going to Paris again: use the metro. I took out my map and, with it, went to the booth to speak with the station agent.
“Ou est…La rue de….” I pointed to the street name on the map, and the agent helped me locate the stop near the house. I went ahead and climbed on the train and smiled. I’m doing it on my own.
When I spotted the avenue to exit, I left the subway and followed the group onto the sidewalk. Once above, I walked down the three avenues highlighted on the directions, but I also recalled the buildings Laurence and I had passed together. After passing a few more familiar landmarks, I spotted the home’s glass and decorative iron door. I did it! I danced in place on the street. Rushing forward, I unlocked the door and swung it wide. “Hey, Laurence. Are you here? Guess who caught the Metro and didn’t get lost?” I sang out.
“Nadia.”
I turned toward the living room. “Paul?”
Five weeks without him. Every day since, I stumbled on the cracks in my life, missing the spaces he filled. And even though it had been heartbreaking, I had survived. There had been moments, especially at the internship, where I felt I had been thriving.
But Paul was here, standing in the living room. His powerful presence filled the space. His magnetism, a potent force, drew me to him. Even though a large part of me felt so hurt and didn’t want to beg for his attention. I’d had enough of that, surely.
However, as was habit, my heartbeat and breath sped as I stared, taking him in. His wavy hair was longer, and he’d grown a beard on his square jaw. Something I’d seen online, but that wasn’t the only thing different about him. His eyes were dull, and there were no smiles like the stories played out in the media. Even his shirt and trousers were creased. Had he slept in them? Has he slept at all?This man before me was not at all the elegant man I’d come to know.
The main question bouncing around in my head was, why did he come now? Is our relationship still over or has he come back for me?
There was an ache in my chest where my love for him lived. And my desire to comfort him battled with my fear at his surprise appearance and bleak condition. Would he welcome me into his arms? Would it still be as intimate?
“Nadia, come sit with me, please,” he said in a soft tone.
I sat on the couch next to him. I really needed answers. Paul ran his hands through his hair and let out a long exhale. “I don’t know where to start.”
“Start wherever you want to.” He didn’t need to plan his words, just open up to me. It was all I wanted from him.
