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“Hello, Nadia. I’m sorry for the late call. I promise not to keep you on long.”
“It’s fine,” I told her and sat on the bed.
“Well, first I want to say how sorry I am for your loss. It was horrific what happened to you. I’m also sorry for the manner in which I treated you. Will you please accept my apology?”
“Yes. Thank you.” I accepted because I never wanted a bad relationship between us. Paul’s mother was an important part of his life. He had so few who were close to him. I hoped for, if not friendship, then kindness between us.
“Great and thank you for accepting. I don’t know if Paul mentioned it, but have you ever seen Kusama’s art?”
“Online I have, and I love it. Paul mentioned you were working on a show?”
“Yes, I am. I’m part of a foundation that sponsored Kusama’s Infinity Mirror installation at Musée D’Orsay. I’ll be doing an early walk-through on Wednesday, and I’d like for you to come and have dinner with me.”
Dani coming to talk to me after Paul told me what happened with Aubrey seemed equally timed. I knew she wanted to clear the air, but I suspected I was going to get more information on Crane expectations—something Paul wanted me to know before making a commitment. At the same time, the internship had flexible scheduling, but Tomas also had his one-on-one design that was due.
“I honestly don’t know if I’ll have the time free, but if I do, I’d love to go.”
“Great. I’ll speak with you soon.”
“Bonjour.” I sang out and waved at Wyatt as he came outside of his apartment building. We were off to Saint-Ouen Flea Market. Everyone at the office had something unique from there. And with Wyatt, I had a good chance, as he was the expert at finding gold in a bail of straw with his styles of mixed textile fabric. I pulled out an embroidered jacket I found while walking around the city. “Do you like it?” I asked in French.
Wyatt’s large hazel eyes widened approvingly. “Où l’as-tu acheté?”
“Marché Vernaison. It’s yours.” I held out the jacket.
His smile evaporated, and he clicked his tongue.
My brows rose. Had I done something wrong? “Qu’est-ce qu’il y a?”
“You do too much.”
“Non.”
“Oui. Every day.” He listed off rides home, coffee, lunch, a book he mentioned in a conversation I heard he wished to buy.
“But I….” Honestly, I didn’t know how to put it in words. Wyatt wasn’t rich. He worked as a private French tutor and sold his work online, like Xander. It afforded the apartment he lived in. But when we were out, he always went for discounts and bargains. He seemed to spend as little as possible.
“I’m sorry. I wanted to help you.”
“I don’t need your help, Nadia. I know you have money, but you don’t need to spend it on me.”
I lowered my head. “None of what I have is my own….” On the tip of my tongue, I was going to say Paul gave it all to me, but I stopped myself. With the criminal case coming up, I didn’t want to risk Wyatt being subpoenaed about the money. It could paint me as a gold-digger or his escort. But I had been Paul’s kept woman. In a way, he still kept me, with a beautiful house to live in, a driver, and a cook to make me food. There wasn’t a thing I wanted Paul wouldn’t give me. I didn’t earn any of it. My eyes darted, and I swallowed, placing the jacket back in the bag.
“You’re sad? I didn’t mean…bad.” Wyatt frowned and rubbed his chin. “Je t’adore. I adore you and I want us to be friends.” He opened his arms, and I took the hug.
“We are. Thank you for explaining to me.”
He then took my hand, and we headed down a few blocks to the Metro station to take line 4.
“Paul Crane’s your boyfriend, no?”
“Oui.”
“He’s returned?”
I smiled and nodded.
“We all know; you have been happier.”
