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"I wasn't exactly dumped," I say. "There was nothing there to begin with. It was just a few, a few—" Uh oh, here come the waterworks again. "A few really beautiful, meaningful, tender kisses."
"Ahh," they all say, and next thing I know, there's a group hug on my bunk. Six girls who go back to the early playground days. Even if this whole thing with Olivier has got me in knots, how could I not feel super loved right now?
Little by little, the girls peel themselves off me.
I sniff messily. "I guess this means I should quit having these silly feelings for Olivier, huh?"
Their eyes are sympathetic, which I read to mean 'yep'. I've got to let this man go.
Laura leans forward. "Hon, you know that feelings aren't something you turn off with the flick of a switch. You feel whatever you need to feel for this man. He was your first kiss in France."
I nod."At least I can now say with authority, there's nothing better than French kisses. Except maybe croissants."
That makes them laugh, and the tone in the apartment changes. They crawl back to their designated sleeping spaces, and the last light turns out. Pretty soon the familiar sounds of deep breathing and quiet snoring fill the room. Even though we're thousands of miles from home, this feels as familiar and cozy as when we used to do weekend sleepovers in each other's bedrooms.
My phone buzzes on the bed beside me, and my stomach knots up. Mom and Dad should be safely tucked away now, exhausted from their first experience of jet lag.
Olivier's name fills my screen, and before I even read the message I feel a shiver of delight run through me. Why does he have this effect on me? And more importantly, when is it going to fade away?
"Natalie, don’t reply. Just consider this…" his message says, and I catch my breath, remembering the sound of my name on his tongue.
I desperately wait, my heart pounding as three bouncing dots give little warning of what is to come.
“Without any promises… if I could try to make things less complicated for me, would they be less complicated for you?"
Without any promises? Oh boy.
CHAPTER 35
Olivier
Sunrise over Paris. The oranges, yellows and gentle streaks of white clouds are like watching a moving piece of art. Paris might be the heart of the cosmopolitan world, a fashion capital, a center of European history. But in a moment like this, it is the picture of peacefulness.
When I was a little boy, I rose at this hour to join Grandmama as she opened the Bouchon Noir. It was only the two of us, with my brother not yet able to walk. I loved the city then, and I love it now.
Standing here on the summit deck of the Eiffel Tower, the morning of our great event, a gentle breeze brushes past my cheek as though the city itself is sighing.
There is a long day ahead. What will it bring for me and the Bouchon Noir? That is the great question.
Breathe, beautiful city, and let today be the day you rise up and deliver the Bouchon Noir—and the Dubois name—from all the rumors, the scandal, the threats.
The tables are set up, eager for diners to fill the seats. The stage, now empty, will be alive with music. And then thepièce de résistance: the light show against the Tower during dessert. It will illuminate the diners, but more importantly, it will give all of Paris a sight to remember.
But I have two critical conversations before I can turn my attention to this event. Today is the day I uncomplicate my life. Today I will take my life back for myself.
If only I could get my hands to stop shaking.
I dial Father, my fingers shaking so badly I have to dial twice. He wakes before dawn, and we are clearing this up for good.
He answers my video call on the first ring. “Olivier.”
“Father.” We wait in silence. The next move is mine. “Is Sebastien there?”
“He’s in the garden.”
“Get him. I’ll wait.” I brace for Father’s scathing words about how he’s the one who decides. But he nods and walks the few steps to the terrace.
“Your brother,” he says to Sebastian and holds the phone so they’re both in sight.
