One Paris Summer (Blink) (41 page)

I leaned across the table and gave him a hug, laughing when the table got in the way.

“Have you talked to Mathieu?” Dad asked.

I looked down at my plate, my smile fading. “No.”

“He says he tried to contact you multiple times, but you never responded.”

Tears filled my eyes. “He texted the phone Eva gave me. It didn’t work in the States. I never saw any of his messages until I turned on my phone and read them all on the train.”

“Eva said he was heartbroken, but he made us swear not to try to sway you one way or another.”

I nodded. “I understand.” And I did, but if they’d only told me, maybe . . .

“Eva says she thinks he’s finally moved past it. He got the internship at her bank next summer.”

He’s moved past it.
I supposed people could say the same about me. Outwardly, I’d moved past it, but inside I was still dying. “That’s great. It’s what he really wanted.”

“He told Eva about his probation at the school.”

My eyes widened in surprise. “And they still gave him the internship?”

He smiled softly. “If she gave her own daughter a chance at rehabilitation, then she figures she can do the same with her other daughter’s boyfriend.”

I blushed. “Ex-boyfriend.”

He didn’t answer.

The food arrived at our table, and I told Dad how Jenna was doing. “She’s sad that I’m coming to Paris, but she understands. She says she’s going to look into becoming a foreign exchange student next year. Do you think we could be her host family?”

“Our luck with our kids’ friends staying with us hasn’t turned out so well.” My heart began to sink, but then he grinned. “Good thing I know Jenna so well. We’d love to have her. Eva too.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

We finished lunch, and I told him I had to go by the
conservatoire
for a meeting with Mathieu’s mother.

“Do you think you’re up to it?”

“Because of my jet lag or because she’s Mathieu’s mother?”

“Both.”

I gave him a sad smile. “The first isn’t too bad, and the second I’ll have to learn how to handle. She’s the instructor of the music program. I’ll see her fairly often.”

“I’m just worried about you, Soph. You’re my little girl, no matter how mature you are.”

I kissed his cheek. “Thanks, Dad. This will probably take a few hours. Would you like to ride the Metro home together?”

His face lit up. “But I have to work until six. Can you wait that long?”

“Just text me when you’re done.”

I left my suitcase with him, then walked the few blocks to the Latin Quarter.

I spent several hours at the school. Madame Rousseau was kind and polite, and I was proud of myself for not asking her questions about her son.

I filled out paperwork and shadowed a music theory class. My guide brought me back to Madame Rousseau’s office when my class was done. She got up from her desk. “We are eager for you to join our program, Sophie. I’m happy you changed your mind.”

I swallowed, then asked, “Does Mathieu know?”

Sadness filled her eyes and she shook her head. “
Non.
”

I nodded, trying to swallow the burning lump in my throat.

“Mathieu was very distraught for several months. I thought it best not to upset him again.”

“I understand.” But my heart ached. The pain had started the moment I’d gotten off the plane—
before
I’d received his messages. Maybe moving here wasn’t such a good idea after all.

But I knew it was. I’d just channel my heartache into my music. It was something I had learned to do all too well.

“What are your plans now, Sophie?”

I looked at the time, surprised it was close to five. “I’m meeting my dad around six to ride the Metro home with him. So I think I’ll wander around Notre Dame.”

She nodded. “
Très bien.
Have a good weekend with your father, and we’ll see you in January.”

“Merci.”

Before I left the building, I texted Dad that I was done and not to worry about me waiting on him. I’d just tour Notre Dame.

Maybe I’d actually be brave enough to go up to the top this time.

I knew Mathieu’s school was close, and I considered stopping by, especially since his dismissal time was around five. But instead, I pulled out my phone and checked my messages. The sight of his texts broke my heart all over again.

Had he moved on? Would I hurt him if I texted him? I decided to go with my gut.

I never gave up on us. I’ve never stopped loving you.

I sent it before I could change my mind.

My stomach felt like it was in my throat as I walked out the door of the
conservatoire
. Would he text me back? I was so focused on my phone, I was startled when I heard a familiar voice call out, “Sophie.”

Camille stood at the bottom of the steps with an anxious look. She was wearing her school uniform—black skirt and tights, paired with a black V-neck sweater with a logo on her left chest, and a white blouse and striped tie underneath. Her black hair was longer and hung in loose waves around her face.

I sucked in a breath and stopped in my tracks, unprepared to face her.

She saw my hesitation and seemed to shrink into herself. “I wanted to see you before we went home.”

“You mean
your
apartment.” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them.

Her lips pressed together and she looked apologetic. “It’s yours now too.”

Camille was the one part of returning to Paris that worried me the most. Now I was second-guessing this decision.

She took a step toward me. “I wanted to tell you how sorry I am about what I did.” She took a breath. “After my father died . . .” She paused. “I did some things I shouldn’t before
Maman
started seeing your father, but I always knew she would love me anyway. It was only the two of us. Then you showed up . . .” Her eyes turned glassy. “You were nice and pretty and everything I thought
Maman
wanted in a daughter, and I knew she would love you.” A fierceness filled her eyes. “So I had to make you leave before she loved you more.”

I took a cautious step toward her. “That’s crazy, Camille. Eva loves you and she would never replace you with
anyone
.”

“I know that now.” She paused again. “And I know I was terrible to you. I’ve spoken with
Maman
, and when you move here for the
conservatoire
, I will live with my uncle.”

“What?” I asked, shocked. “No! I would never make you move away from Eva. If you really don’t want to live with me, I’ll see about moving into the school dorm.” It would add to the expense, but I’d never chase Camille from her home. No matter how horrible she’d been.

She shook her head, a tear trailing down her cheek. “
Non.
You misunderstand. I would move to make you happy.”

“Oh.” That surprised me. I wondered if Eva had forced her to make this offer, but the look in her eyes convinced me that wasn’t true. “No, I think we can live in the same apartment as long as you don’t try to sabotage me anymore.”

She shook her head. “
Non.
I will be on my best behavior.”

I had doubts about that, but at least she planned to try. “Okay, then it’s settled. But I want my own room. Whichever one you don’t want.”

She studied me for a moment, then stuck out her hand. “Deal.” The corners of her mouth tipped up into a small grin.

I shook her hand.

Her smile spread as she dropped my clasp. “I always wanted a little sister. Or a dog.” She laughed, but it wasn’t malicious. “
Maman
said no to both.”

I laughed too. “We’ll start with trying to be friends first.”

“Good idea.” She glanced behind her before turning back to me. “I really am sorry. About everything.”

“Thanks.” I wasn’t ready to be BFFs with her, but it was a start.

“I’ll see you at home.” She headed toward the Latin Quarter shopping area and, still in shock, I watched her until she turned a corner.

Then I remembered Mathieu and looked at my phone. Nothing.

I started to walk toward the cathedral, holding my phone in my hand and telling myself that the fact he hadn’t responded didn’t mean anything. Maybe he was in class. But Camille’s appearance squelched that theory. I kept staring at the screen as I walked, willing him to text me back, but he still hadn’t answered after ten minutes. I reminded myself that Mathieu had waited for a response from me for months. Ten minutes was nothing.

The square was crowded, but not as much as it had been during the summer. I got in line to enter the sanctuary and noticed the bronze star on the ground to my left.

I stepped out of line and moved toward it. This time there were only a few curious onlookers, but they quickly moved on. I took a deep breath and stood on the star, wondering what I should wish for this time. I could go with the obvious and wish for Mathieu, but perhaps it was time to do something selfless. According to his mother, he’d been devastated for months. If my silent phone was any indication, Mathieu Rousseau was done with me and I needed to respect that.

I closed my eyes and wished for Mathieu to be happy.

“Sophie?”

It sounded so much like his voice, I was sure I was hallucinating.

My eyes flew open, and he was standing in front of me. He was just as handsome as I remembered him. His school uniform was nearly identical to Camille’s except for the black pants. His dark hair was a little shorter but was just as unruly. His clear blue eyes were full of tears.

“I wasn’t ignoring you,” I gushed out. “My phone didn’t work in the States. I never got any of your messages. I didn’t even know you texted me until I got on the Metro this morning. I’m so sorry.” My voice broke.

He looked guarded. “I saw your message about twenty minutes ago. I never thought I would see you again after I treated you so badly. Can you find a way to forgive me?”

I nodded, tears streaming down my face. “I already have.”

He looked worried. “Why are you crying?”

“I was scared I’d lost you forever.” My chin quivered. “I’m scared I’m too late.”

He shook his head and a soft smile lifted his mouth. “
Non, mon coeur
. You’re just in time.”

I threw myself at him, wrapping my arms around his neck, pressing my mouth to his. His arm slipped around my back and pulled me tight against him. Being in his arms was like being home. Mathieu Rousseau was where I belonged.

When he lifted his head, he grabbed my cheeks and searched my face as if he was committing me to memory. “Why are you here? Are you visiting your father?”

“
Oui.
I’m here for a short visit, then I’m moving here at the end of December. I’m going to school at the
conservatoire
here in Paris.”

His eyes widened. “But
Maman
said you turned down the position.”

“I changed my mind. She’s admitting me to the spring semester.”

“I can’t believe you are really here.” He kissed me again, holding me close as though he was worried I’d disappear.

I grinned against his lips. “I’m here.”

Burying my face into his chest, I tightened my hold around his neck and clung to him for several seconds before I realized how unlikely this meeting was. I looked up at him and asked in amazement, “How did you know where to find me?”

He held my gaze. “Camille.”

“
What
?”

“I got your text, then five minutes later she called and told me you were in Paris.”

“But how did you find me
here
?”

“Your father sent me a text seconds later telling me to look for you at Notre Dame. I thought it would be more difficult to find you. It was fate.”

Dad got involved? I couldn’t believe it.

My smile fell. “I don’t think your mother wants us back together. She’s worried I’ll hurt you.”

“My mother wants me to be happy, and you make me happy.”

“That was my wish.” I nodded toward the star. “The first time I was here—right before I got lost in the Metro—I wished for a boyfriend. And I got you.” I looked deep into his cerulean blue eyes. “But this time I wished for something different. I just wished for you to be happy. I didn’t want you to be sad anymore.”

He gave me a shy smile. “And I’ve been here at the star at least once a week to wish you would come back to me.” He cupped my cheek, his face shining with happiness. “And now you have.”

He pulled me onto the star and kissed me until my knees were weak and my head was fuzzy. When he lifted his head, he smiled down at me, his eyes full of adoration. “
Je t’aime, mon amour.
”

“
Je t’aime, Mathieu. Mon coeur.
” He was right. It meant so much more in French. I swiped a tear from my face.

He slid his backpack down his arm and unzipped it, then pulled out a napkin and handed it to me.

I took it and laughed, wiping my face. “I think this is how we started. Outside the restaurant.”

He dug his phone out of his pants pocket and looked at the screen. “And this is a text from Camille, just like last time.”

My smile fell. “She’s calling you away?”

“
Non.
” He shoved the phone back in his pants pocket. “She’s making sure I’m not fool enough to let you go again.”

I laughed and grabbed his sweater, pulling his lips to mine and showing him how much I missed him.

“I don’t remember that happening the first time,” he teased.

“That’s because this has a different ending.”

His playfulness fell away. “
Non, mon coeur.
No more endings. Only beginnings.”

I liked the sound of that.