“And I agree to keep it a secret. I would never want to hurt your chance at the internship.”
“Merci.”
We looked at each other for several seconds, and I wondered how I could have gone from feeling so fizzy with hope to utter devastation in a matter of minutes. “I need to go.” I turned and started walking, hoping he hadn’t heard the quaver in my voice.
When we got to the corner of my dad’s street, I stopped. “I think it’s too risky for you to come to the door. Eric was following me down the stairs this morning, and he almost saw you.”
He nodded, but looked reluctant. “Are you going out with Camille today?”
“I don’t know.” I grimaced. “Eric and I told our dad that we don’t want Camille to be forced to take us around the city. So I don’t know if I’ll be invited on any more outings. Which is sad since I had fun at Musée Rodin . . . when everyone started being nicer to me.”
His face darkened. “When Thomas started talking to you.”
Ah, so that explained his behavior with Thomas. He was jealous, but he had no right to be. Not anymore. He had made his choice, and while I understood it, I didn’t have to be held hostage to it. “I guess he’s not being blackmailed like you are.”
His eyes darkened even more.
“When we’re with your friends, I promise to pretend like we hardly know each other. That’s all you can ask of me.”
“I know.” Then he said something in French and walked away.
CHAPTER Nineteen
“WHERE HAVE YOU been?” Eric shouted as soon as I walked through the front door.
My mouth dropped open.
“Sophie!”
“I . . .” Why was he so furious? “Last time I checked, you aren’t my father or even my babysitter.”
“No, I’m your brother!”
“He’s been freaking out for the last hour,” Dane said, walking out of the kitchen. “He even walked around the block looking for you.”
Eric shot him a glare before turning his attention back to me. “Where have you been?”
“Out.”
“That’s not an answer!”
“I thought you wanted me to see Paris!”
“I was worried something might have happened to you! Especially after the way you left. Dad would have flipped out if you had gotten lost while I was in charge.”
“In charge? Are you kidding me? I’m not five years old, Eric. I’m sixteen. You’re not in charge of me.”
He scowled at that, and I stomped off to Camille’s room, only to stop in the doorway when I saw her lounging on her bed, flipping through a French gossip magazine. Her upper lip curled as she glanced up at me. “Oh. You’re back.”
I studied her with my new knowledge rolling around in my head. I knew the apartment had been in Eva’s family for generations. Had Camille lived here before the accident? Dad and Mathieu said she’d been forced to change bedrooms because she had to share her space with me. This room was bigger than the one Eric and Dane were staying in, but maybe she had some special attachment to it. Or maybe it was the principle. I wondered how I’d feel if Mom married her boyfriend and he had a daughter who invaded my room.
I must have stood there long enough to annoy her. The magazine lowered and her eyes narrowed. “Do you find me so fascinating that you want to watch me all day?”
And just like that, my guard was back up. Camille may have experienced pain in her life, but she didn’t make it easy to be understanding. Without saying a word, I grabbed my laptop and started to leave the room, unsure of where to go. I couldn’t stay in here, and Eric and Dane were in the living room.
“Where were you this morning?” she asked.
Something in her voice caught my attention. Did she know? “I was out.”
She scowled, then looked down at the magazine. “My friends are going to see a movie later. Thomas has asked if you are coming.”
I stopped. “Are you inviting me to go?”
“No. I’m telling you that I’m seeing a movie and Thomas will be there. He would like you to come.”
“What are you seeing?”
She grinned as she continued to study her magazine. “Something French.”
I supposed that was a given since we were in Paris. “When are you leaving?”
“In two hours.”
“Thanks.” It was hard to say it, yet I felt it was warranted. She could have told Thomas I wasn’t going and left it at that. But then again, she wanted Dane to go, which meant inviting Eric. Given my brother’s recent display, I suspected he wouldn’t go without me.
I walked into the hall and sat on the plum-colored bench I’d admired on my first visit to the apartment. I’d sent Mom an email the night before, confronting her with my new insight to their breakup, and I still hadn’t heard from her. I also intended to send an email to Jenna, but Eric found me as soon as I opened the lid.
“I’m going to grab a panini from the shop down the street.”
“Okay.”
“You’re coming with me.”
I shook my head. “You can’t order me around, Eric.”
His tone softened “Please come get a sandwich with me.”
This was the Paris Eric, the one who actually liked to spend time with his little sister. I had to admit he was a curiosity I wanted to study more. I closed the lid to my computer and set it on the seat next to me. “Fine.”
He grinned, although it looked more smug than happy.
I grabbed my bag and followed him out the door. “Dane’s not coming?”
“No.”
We were silent the rest of the way down the stairs, and when we started down the sidewalk, he finally spoke. “I’m sorry about Dane.”
“Which part?”
He chuckled. “Yeah, I guess there are multiple things to apologize for.” His grin faded. “What happened this morning?”
I shrugged. “He was being a jerk. No different than any other day.”
“He has his moments at home, but I’ve never seen him like this.”
I believed that. Eric could be a jerk in his own right, but I knew him better than to think he’d knowingly be best buds with a guy who was a jerk 24/7. “I’m sorry that it hasn’t worked out for you like you’d hoped,” I said. “I know you had plans for the two of you.”
He just shrugged, but I knew him well enough to know he was disappointed.
There was a line at the restaurant. As we queued up, Eric said, “I saw you with Mathieu this morning.”
All my blood rushed to my toes. “What?”
“I followed you. When I looked out the front door, I saw you two walking down the street.”
I waited a beat before I asked, “Are you going to tell Camille?”
“It depends on why you were with him.”
“He has a piano.”
It was his turn to look surprised. “Oh.”
“Yeah . . . the day he came back to the apartment with me from the catacombs, he heard me play on the keyboard. He said he had a piano and offered to let me play at his place. I’ve gone over there the past few mornings.”
“Why didn’t you say so?”
“He doesn’t want Camille to know.”
“Why not?”
I shrugged, feeling defensive. “It’s kind of complicated, but the bottom line is that they recently dated for a short bit, although he says it was nothing serious.”
“So? She’s with Dane now.” He didn’t sound happy about that either.
“He broke up with her, and I don’t think it ended well. Plus, he wants an internship at Eva’s office, and Camille has some kind of information she could spill to her mother that would guarantee he loses the position. So, since she doesn’t like me . . .”
“He doesn’t want her to know he’s helping you.”
“Exactly.”
“What else are you doing at his apartment?”
I gaped at him. “Nothing! I’ve been playing the piano.”
“You didn�
�t take any sheet music today. And you were gone longer than usual.”
“What are you insinuating?”
“He’s a guy, Sophie. And he’s carrying on this secret relationship with you that is supposedly because Camille will get pissed about it.”
“He’s not like that. And we don’t have a relationship.”
He gave me a look of disbelief.
“Nothing has happened between us. Half the time we just argue.”
He scowled. “That doesn’t make me feel any better.”
“We usually get some kind of pastry on the way to his apartment, then I play the piano for two hours. He tells me when it’s time to go and he walks me back.”
“I don’t like it.”
“I get to play a real piano, Eric. A Steinway.”
The line had moved several paces forward and we stepped inside the doorway. “Do you know what you want?” he asked, pointing. The case was full of quiches, sub sandwiches, and personal pizzas.
I asked for a mozzarella, tomato, and basil sandwich on a baguette and Eric got a sandwich with ham. The employee warmed them up, then handed them to us in parchment paper. There were only a few tables, and they were full, so we took our sandwiches outside and ate them while we walked back.
I took a bite of my sandwich and made a sound of contentment. “Why don’t we have fast food like this back home?”
“Good question.” He took another bite, then said, “We’re only here for a few weeks, Soph. Don’t get too attached to a guy who lives in Paris.”
“I could say the same about you and Marine.”
He blushed a little. “There’s nothing much there with Marine. I’m smart enough to know not to get too involved when I’m going to leave. But you . . .” He turned to me with worry in his eyes. “You’re new to this.”
I sighed. “I already told you there’s nothing going on. He’s not interested in me.”
“I don’t believe that for a minute. I don’t like you being alone with him in his apartment.” He paused. “And he’s not the only guy I’m worried about.”
“Thomas?” At home I couldn’t even get one guy interested in me. I couldn’t believe I had two here.
His eyes darkened. “Just be careful.”
“Yeah . . . okay.”
He let the subject drop, and we finished our food as we wandered around the neighborhood. I was surprised how comfortable I was becoming here.
Eric stopped outside the apartment building door. “Oh, one more thing. I told Dane to leave you alone. If he doesn’t, let me know.”
An uncharacteristic rush of affection for my brother washed through me. “Thanks.”
He nodded and we went upstairs.
An hour later, we took the subway to the Opéra exit. Marine, Julien, Thomas, and Sarah were already waiting for us. I couldn’t help noticing that Mathieu wasn’t with them, and apparently Camille did as well. I heard her say his name when she addressed them in French.
She didn’t like their answer, and neither did Dane.
“What did they say?” I asked Eric.
“I couldn’t make it all, but it sounds like Camille specifically asked Mathieu to come and he passed.”
“Why would she ask him to come?”
Thomas was edging over to me, and Eric was too busy giving him the stink eye to answer.
“Bonjour, Sophie.”
I smiled when I heard him pronounce my name with an accent. “Bonjour, Thomas.”
He looked surprised by my attempt at French.
Eric bought our tickets, and then we went inside, skipping the concessions. I studied the French title, trying to translate it in my head, but one morning of French lessons hadn’t helped me master the language.
The theater was mostly empty, so I wasn’t surprised when Thomas sat next to me. Eric gave him another dirty look, but he was distracted from his plan of intimidation when Marine sat next to him.
“Have you been studying French, Sophie?” Thomas asked, leaning close to me.
“No,” I lied, feeling guilty about it, but I couldn’t confess to my lessons with Mathieu.
“I can teach you if you would like.”
Part of me rebelled at the idea, and I knew all too well why. Mathieu. Jenna had a point. I tended to pick unavailable guys.
The previews started before I could answer. They were in French—and since I had embarked on this mission to learn more about everything French, I found them fascinating. The movie started soon after, and it turned out to be some kind of romcom, which surprised me since the guys had willingly attended. I had no idea what anyone was saying, although I listened carefully for the words in my limited vocabulary, catching a few here and there and getting ridiculously excited whenever I did. I found myself wishing Mathieu was there. Thomas was leaning against the armrest next to me, his right knee lightly touching my left one, but I didn’t feel a single butterfly.
Eric kept glancing over at us, and I caught his gaze after about the third time, lifting my eyebrows at him in frustration. Marine put her hand on top of his soon after that, and it seemed to make him forget he had a sister.
When the movie was over, we left the theater and gathered on the sidewalk. Once again, Camille held court, but with my new knowledge of her past, I saw the group’s dynamics in a new light. There was a hint of sympathy in their eyes, and it occurred to me that they tolerated her behavior because they felt sorry for her. I wondered again what she’d been like before, because it was obvious her friends were very loyal.
“Did you enjoy the movie, Sophie?” Thomas asked.
I knew I should give him a chance. He was available. He was interested. But there just wasn’t a spark. “Yes, even though I didn’t understand most of it.”
“I really would be happy to teach you French.”
Eric moved closer. “Maybe another time. We’re leaving.”
I shot my brother a glare as I waved good-bye to Thomas, but I was partially relieved. It bought me more time to work through the jumbled mess of my feelings.
We took the Metro back to the apartment. Camille and Dane sat several rows ahead of us. I studied my new stepsister, wondering how she and her mother could have reacted so differently to their grief and ability to move on. I suddenly had a desire to show Eva how much I appreciated everything she’d done to welcome us into her life.
I had an idea.
After Dad left, I’d started cooking to help Mom. I could make dinner. It seemed like such a small thing, but it was the only thing I could come up with.
When we got to our neighborhood, I convinced Eric to stop at the market with me to pick up the ingredients for spaghetti and meatballs.
He laughed. “You’re cooking Italian food in France?”
“You don’t complain when I make it at home.”
“No complaints. Only an observation.”
I ended up substituting sausage for ground beef and getting fresh tomatoes instead of canned since the fresh fruits and vegetables were so good here. Camille seemed surprised when I started cooking dinner, but to my relief she and Dane stayed out of the kitchen. Dinner was almost done when I heard the front door open.
“Oh!” Eva exclaimed front the entryway. “What smells so good?”
“Bonsoir, Eva.” I smiled at her when she came into the kitchen. “I made dinner.” I lifted a wooden spoon filled with sauce.
She closed her eyes and tasted it. “Delicious.”
I beamed. “You like it?”
“I can’t believe you made dinner,” she said, tears filling her eyes.
“It’s nothing,” I said. “I cook all the time back home. I hope it’s okay.”
She pulled me into a hug, then murmured something in French before saying, “I am so lucky to have you for a daughter.”
“As opposed to having me?” Camille asked, glaring at us from the doorway. “You can have a good daughter now?”
My heart skipped a beat.
“Camille,” her mother sighed.
&nbs
p; Camille walked away, and Eva turned to me with an apologetic look. “She will grow to accept you.”
I wasn’t so sure about that. Camille already saw me as a threat, and this was one more strike against me.
“Thank you for making dinner, Sophie,” Eva said, struggling not to cry. “This is a very special gift.” Then she went into her room and shut the door.
Dad came home soon after that. The guys set the dining room table, and Dad opened a bottle of wine for him and Eva to drink. We all sat down, and it wasn’t long before Eva said, “Sophie, I think I have a solution to your piano problem.”
I stopped eating, my fork midair. “What piano problem?”
“Your father told me you need to play on a real piano, not just a keyboard.”
My face burned with embarrassment. “Eva, I don’t want to seem ungrateful. I know you went out of your way to get it for me.”
“No.” She gave me a reassuring smile. “I understand, and I think I have a solution. At least a partial one.”
I waited, a band of anxiety tightening around my chest.
“Camille’s friend Mathieu has a piano in his apartment. His mother is an instructor at a conservatoire, and I contacted her this afternoon. I asked her if it would be possible for you to use their piano during the day since she and her husband are away at work. She said she would arrange for Mathieu to let you in.”
Eric’s eyes narrowed, and I could tell he was trying to decide whether or not to say anything.
I wanted to kick him under the table, but my mind was whirling. Mathieu’s mother was an instructor at a conservatory? I had assumed she was a teacher like Miss Lori, not an instructor at a music school. But the Steinway and the fact that Mathieu managed to find a spare copy of the Rachmaninoff prelude so easily should have tipped me off.
“Are you open to this idea?” she asked.
I shot a glance to Camille, although I wasn’t sure why. If Eva and Mathieu’s mother had cooked this up, she couldn’t hold it against him. She looked unhappy, but not as furious as I’d expected.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Eric said.
“What?” I squawked.
“I don’t think you should be alone with a teenage boy in an apartment for hours at a time.” He turned to Dad. “I can’t believe you’re actually considering this.”
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