One Paris Summer (Blink)
Page 31
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.