One Paris Summer (Blink) (33 page)

His eyes were guarded.

“I went with Camille and your friends on Bastille Day. Thomas was there, and I told him I didn’t have a boyfriend back home.” Would he get up and walk away from me forever? The temptation to keep quiet was almost overwhelming. It didn’t matter. I
had
to tell him. “You and I had already broken up, but I didn’t think he would . . .”

“I know he kissed you.” He reached across the table and grabbed my hands in his. “He told me.”

“What?” He already
knew
?

“He knew you were hung up on someone else. He called me and told me, so I told him about us.”

“You did?” I cringed and squeezed my eyes shut. “Does he hate me?”

“
Non
, Sophie. He thinks I’m the lucky one who found you first.”

“Do
you
hate me?”

His eyes lit up. “
Non
, I could never hate you.”

I pushed out a huge sigh of relief.

“Now, no more talk of Camille or Thomas.” He smiled and leaned forward. “What did you think about the concert?”

I started analyzing the piece, and a huge smile spread across his face. I stopped talking, then asked, “What?”

He shook his head. “You should see your face right now. I love watching you talk about music. You are so . . . full of life.”

I lowered my gaze, feeling self-conscious. “Music . . . I just feel it. It’s like a second language to me—a way to express what’s in my soul better than words ever could.” Had I really just told him that? I started to pull my hands away, but he held them in place.

“
Non.
Don’t be embarrassed. It’s wonderful. Your love for music is inspiring.”

“What do you have that inspires you?”

His smile softened. “You.”

“Mathieu,” I scolded. “I’m serious.”

“And so am I.”

“Okay . . .” I grinned. “What about before you knew me? What excited you then?”

He let go of my hands and sat up straighter. “I’m not sure I have a real passion like you do, but I love banking and economics. I find it fascinating, especially global macroeconomics. China’s market has increased at such a fast rate that—” He stopped and grinned. “See?”

I squeezed his hand. “So you
do
have something you love.”

“Global economy?” he asked, sounding incredulous. “Most people would fall asleep after thirty seconds.”

“But you love it. That’s all that matters. My friends don’t understand why I love music so much, not even Jenna.” I shrugged. “But she knows it’s my thing and she accepts it.”

He turned serious. “Is it wrong that I hope you get into my mother’s
conservatoire
so I don’t lose you?” He paused. “I hope you don’t misunderstand. I want you to get in anyway, but I also don’t want you to go home in a few weeks.”

A warm feeling filled my chest and spread throughout my body. “When I decided to audition, I wasn’t sure I’d accept a position if I made it, but I’m rethinking that. I told my mother, and she wants me to try. She’s excited for me.”

“Will you live with your father or on the campus?”

Dad still hadn’t given me his blessing. In fact, I hadn’t told him anything about my practice or the pieces I was playing, although Eva had asked questions. I got the distinct impression he didn’t want me to come live in Paris, but why? The only explanation I could come up with was that my continued presence would upset his new family. Camille pretty much openly hated me now, and I had been difficult since my arrival. Staying for the summer was one thing; moving in was another.

I frowned. “Living on campus might have to be an option. I don’t think my dad wants me to go to school here, so I doubt he would want me to live with him, even though Eva says I’m welcome.”

He shook his head. “
Non.
You didn’t see him asking me questions before you came out of the bedroom. He cares about you.” He grimaced. “Your brother might be the issue. He might not be willing to let you out of his sight for that long.”

I chuckled. “This is an entirely new side of him. You saw the way he reacted to my adventure the day you rescued me from the platform at St. Michel. He used to find pretty much everything I did annoying.”

A soft smile lit up his eyes. “I wasn’t looking at your brother that day.”

I blushed again.

He shook his head, grinning. “I couldn’t believe it when I found you at the station that day—the girl from the restaurant. I wanted to stay and talk to you that night, but Camille . . .”

“You were there to meet her, right?”

“Oui.”

It totally made sense, especially since Camille had disappeared by the time I returned to the celebration. “But after you found me in the Metro station, you were so angry with me, not that I blamed you. I was so hateful.”

His mouth dropped open. “I wasn’t mad at you, Sophie. I was mad at
Camille
. I thought about you constantly after I met you at the restaurant, but I didn’t think I would ever see you again. When I figured out you were
le diable
, I couldn’t believe it. I knew she was wrong about you.”

“In the park—after you found Camille—Eric was trying to translate what you were saying. He said you were talking too fast, but he was sure you were angry with me.”

“
Non.
I was angry with Camille for leaving you like that. And then for stealing Dane from you when she knew you liked him, although I wasn’t surprised. Not after Hugo.” His eyes found mine.

I felt my cheeks flushing. “It embarrasses me that you know that about Dane. I can’t believe I ever thought of him that way.”

“And me?”

I smiled. “You? I liked you the moment I saw you. Lucky for you, I like you even more now.”

“A little?” he teased.

I held up my hand and pinched my thumb and index finger. “A wee little bit.”

He grabbed my hand and kissed my knuckles. “Then I have work to do.”

I was looking forward to it.

Mathieu grabbed the waiter and asked for the
addition
, then called his father. We left the restaurant and walked to the sidewalk running along the Seine. We were on the Left Bank, in the section where the sixth and seventh arrondissements met. The streets were lined with souvenir shops, but most of them were closed now, their metal garage doors pulled down and locked. And all the carts and vendors that lined the sidewalk during the day were gone.

This was a different side of Paris, the real Paris behind the tourists and the glitz.

We stood next to the low stone wall, and Mathieu put his arm around my back. He pulled me against him, my hands against his strong chest, and looked deep into my eyes. Now that all the lies and secrets had been ripped away, only we were left behind.

And it felt wonderful.

“You are unlike any girl I’ve ever known,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from my forehead.

I grinned. “I bet it’s because you’re not forced to speak English all the time with other girls.”

He laughed. “True, but that’s not the reason.”

“It must be because I have a brother who constantly threatens to beat you up.”

“That’s true as well, but it’s still not the reason.”

I stared into his eyes, his heartbeat quickening under my hand.

“You, Sophie Brooks, have captivated my heart, something no other girl has done.” He lifted his hand to cup my cheek, then lowered his head, brushing his lips softly against mine.

My heart stuttered in response. Never in my wildest dreams had I imagined I would find a boyfriend like Mathieu Rousseau. It occurred to me that my wish on the star outside of Notre Dame had come true.

As he kissed me again, I felt a new hope for doing well in the audition and getting accepted.

Now I only had to convince my father.

MATHIEU
’
S FATHER SHOWED
up minutes later. He gave us a huge grin, asked us if we had fun, and then let us get lost in each other all over again. There was less traffic, so we reached my apartment sooner than I would have liked. Mathieu slid out of his seat and held his hand out to me.

I leaned over the front seat. “
Merci, Monsieur Rousseau.
I’m so happy to have met you.”

He cast a glance at his son. “I have never seen Mathieu this happy.” Then he grabbed my hand and squeezed. “
Merci.
”

Mathieu grabbed my arm and pulled me out, cringing.

“I’m sorry about my father.”

“Don’t be,” I said as he walked me to the front door. “I like him.”

A boyish grin spread across his face. “I do too.”

I turned to him and wrapped my arms around his neck. “Thank you for the most perfect evening.”

His lips were warm and possessive as they claimed mine. Every kiss from Mathieu Rousseau had been special and amazing, but this one topped them all. I stared at him in amazement as he lifted his head. If this was only the beginning, how much better could it get?

He reached into his pocket. “I have a gift for you.”

I gasped and dropped my hold on him. “What is it?”

He laughed. “If you get this excited over gifts, then I shall get you more. But first this one.” He grabbed my hand and pressed something cold and metallic in my palm. “It’s the key to your
heart.” He laughed at my obvious confusion. “It’s a key to my apartment. And my piano.”

I smirked at his joke. “Aren’t you worried I only want to be with you for your piano?”

Smiling, he shook his head. “I’m willing to take the risk.”

I couldn’t believe he had given me a key. I closed my fist, the rough edges of the metal scraping my palm, but I held it close to my chest. “Thank you, Mathieu. This means so much to me.”

“Now Etienne won’t have to let you in. My mother and
beau
père
leave for work at eight thirty. You can come in whenever you like after that. They usually come home at six.”

“And you . . . ? When do you leave for the school?”

He gave me a sad smile. “Seven. But I get home around three.”

“Then maybe I shall see you tomorrow.” I’d been skirting my dad’s four hours of practice a day rule, but he would have to lift it if I had any shot at getting accepted.

He kissed me again, his lips soft and adoring. “
Bonne nuit, mon amour.
”

“What did you just say?” I whispered.

He pressed the buzzer to my apartment and then took several steps backward. “Good night, my love.”

My heart pounded in my chest. Did that mean what I thought it meant?

The buzzer sounded. When I pulled the front door open, Mathieu turned around and got into his father’s car, pausing to give me a little wave.

Eric was standing in the open doorway when I reached the landing. I expected some snide comment, but there was a strange look on his face when I brushed past him. It wasn’t an angry look, so maybe Eva had told him to back off.

“Sophie, we’re in here,” Dad called out, and I found him and Eva sitting on the sofa facing the doors.

I set my new key on top of the keyboard before I walked into the room.

“Come tell us about your evening,” Eva said, but I could tell something was off. Was I in trouble? If so, I couldn’t understand why. It was only 10:45.

I sat on the sofa opposite them. “It was good. I loved the concert. There’s a tricky movement in the sonata that he fumbled a little, but most people would never have known.” I was babbling, and I knew it. Each moment I spent in here was like being in a walk-in freezer. There was something badly wrong—I wanted to ask what, but I was afraid of the answer.

Eric came in and sat next to me, perching on the arm of the sofa, but Camille and Dane were noticeably absent.

“And Mathieu was a gentleman?” Eva cast a glance to my father.

“Yes. His father drives a taxi, so he took us and brought us home. We had cheesecake and
crème brûlée
after.” The tension was so thick in the room, I was choking on it. “Are we done? I want to call Jenna and tell her about the concert.” Maybe I was wrong; maybe I was reading them incorrectly. There was still hope.

“Sophie,” Dad said, worry tugging his mouth down. “There’s something we have to tell you.”

Tears sprang to my eyes, and I tried to calm my racing heart. “Is it Mom?”

“
Non, mon petit chou.
” Eva leaned forward. “Your mother is fine.”

“Then what is it? What’s happened?”

“It’s Jenna,” Dad said, clenching his jaw. “She was in a very bad accident a few hours ago.”

I gasped. “Is she dead?”

“
Non!
” Eva said, rushing around the coffee table to sit beside me. Wrapping her arm around my back, she pulled me close. “But she is seriously injured.”

“I don’t understand,” I said, trying to catch my breath. “I just talked to her this afternoon to tell her about my date. She was fine. She was going to Lauren’s house to go swimming.”

“She was on her way to Lauren’s,” Dad said, his voice breaking. “A truck broadsided her, and her car rolled over.”

“Is she okay?” I started to cry, and Eva’s hold tightened.

“She’s in the ICU with internal injuries. They aren’t . . .” Dad took a deep breath. “They aren’t sure if she’ll make it. She’s in surgery now.”