Kissed in Paris (24 page)

“I don’t think she would want to hear what I have to say,” Camille said with a huff as she ripped the car around the curvy mountain road, her pale cheeks now the shade of a cherry tomato.

As a wave of nausea passed through my cramping stomach, I closed my eyes and tuned out their bickering. Camille clearly didn’t trust me with her family’s secrets, but I had no reason to trust her either. She was acting like a complete maniac, jerking the car around these skinny roads, making me feel sick and out of control. Nothing about this situation felt safe anymore.

Finally, the yelling stopped and silence washed over the infinitesimal space we shared in the car. The sick feeling in my stomach passed, and as I opened my eyes, I caught the blazing orange sun disappearing behind the mountain tops. And for the first time since I’d woken up penniless in the Plaza Athénée, I acknowledged the real possibility that I might not make it home in time for my wedding. That in the end, this wild chase through France might be for nothing.

Feeling a tear sting the back of my eyelid, I blinked it away, then squeezed my eyes shut once more and hoped with every last fiber in my body that somehow this would work out. That I would make it home in time for my wedding in one piece. But with crazy Camille at the wheel, I wasn’t so sure.

***

The feeling of Julien’s arms squeezing tighter around my waist startled me awake. Camille must’ve been taking another one of her extra sharp turns.

I blinked my eyes, adjusting to the darkness that had now settled upon us. I hadn’t even realized I’d fallen asleep. The neon clock in the Smart car flashed nine p.m. Shouldn’t we have been in Lyon by now?

I lifted my head off Julien’s shoulder and shifted to the right so that I could see his face. The minute I caught a glimpse of his profile—his clenched jaw, his lips sealed tightly together, his eyes wearily focused on the winding road ahead—a sinking feeling seized my gut.

Something wasn’t right.

“What’s going on?” I asked, not even attempting to hide the panic in my voice. “We should be in Lyon by now.”

Julien kept his eyes focused on the darkness outside. “There has been a change of plans.”

“What do you mean?”

“While you were sleeping we received a phone call. Our mother is not well. We are on our way home, to the vineyard.”

I squeezed my fists in my lap and just as I was about to open my mouth to tell them that I
needed
to be on a train to Paris tomorrow with my passport, and that we
had
to go to Lyon, I stopped. They’d just lost their father, and if their mother was sick now too, they didn’t have a choice. They had to be with her.

“Where’s the vineyard?” I asked.

“It is forty minutes north of Lyon. We were almost to Lyon when we got the call, so we just rerouted up north.”

“How long do you think we’ll stay?”

“I am not sure.”

That nauseated feeling—which I was unfortunately becoming accustomed to—took hold in my stomach once again.

Julien’s anxious gaze met mine. “I am sorry. I have no choice.”

I nodded. “I understand.”

I didn’t know what else to say at that point, and even though I felt like I would explode if I didn’t get out of that car immediately and figure out what the hell I was going to do, I realized I was stuck. And since Julien and his sister needed to find Claude as badly as I did, so were they.

Five minutes of tense silence later, Camille swerved off the main road onto a long, gravel driveway, her foot even heavier now against the pedal. Julien’s body stiffened against mine, letting me know this must’ve been the path leading to his house.

The darkness that blanketed the sky couldn’t mask the massive brick home that stood at the end of the driveway with a candle in each window, lighting the way.
This
was his family’s home? It was gorgeous.

What if Julien wasn’t telling me the truth? What if Camille had convinced him to drop me off at some random home in the country so they could retrieve the painting without the annoying American along for the ride?

I didn’t think Camille could make this little car move any faster down the bumpy driveway, but she could. And she did. She had barely put the car into park before she flew out the door and ran up the walkway toward the house. I slammed my forehead against the roof as I climbed out of the car as fast as I could, and once I was out, Julien followed Camille’s lead.

I rubbed my head and trailed behind them, realizing that they couldn’t have been less concerned with my whereabouts as they jetted through the front door. Which meant this w
as
Julien’s home, and his mother really was ill. I was having a hard time wrapping my head around it all—that Claude was Julien’s brother, that Julien needed to find Claude for the painting, and that Julien was still working for the government to bust other conmen. This had become even more complicated and insane than I ever could’ve imagined when I first woke up with nothing to wear but a questionable red dress the day before, and now, to top it all off, I was at Julien’s home, about to meet his mother.

Hesitating at the door, I suddenly remembered the auburn-haired woman I’d seen in Annecy the day before—the spitting image of my mother. And then the voice whispering
go
in my ear. And now, as I stood on Julien’s porch, I knew it was crazy even as the thought crossed my mind, but I could feel her here. Prodding my feet forward. Telling me to keep going.

I only hoped I wasn’t losing my mind.

Inside the house, I followed Julien and Camille through a brightly lit foyer and into the living room where a little woman with short, wispy black hair, a sunflower yellow apron tied around her waist and pale, plump cheeks lay on a sky blue sofa. A doctor knelt by her side, packing up his things.

Camille rushed to her mother’s side while Julien walked up to the doctor and spoke in hushed tones, the corners of his mouth turned down into a frown. I backed into the doorway and swallowed the lump in my throat as I suddenly had another flashback of my mom. This time, she was lying in a hospital bed, cold and unmoving. The scene of her lying there in the aftermath of her struggle to give birth to my baby sister was a vivid and unwelcome memory I’d often had nightmares about, but had never allowed myself to remember while awake. Seeing Julien’s mother lying there so pale and weak brought me right back to that moment though. The moment where I’d had to say goodbye to my mom.

Except she hadn’t been alive to say goodbye back.

I shuddered at the gut-wrenching memory, then thought about how horrible it was that Julien and Camille had just lost their own father and were now faced with an ill mother. And regardless of the tense car ride we’d just shared, regardless of all the bickering I’d done with Julien, regardless of the fact that he hadn’t been truthful with me until earlier today, I sincerely hoped their mom was going to be okay.

Julien’s mother opened her brown eyes—eyes the same exact shade as her children’s—and smiled weakly at Camille.

“
Maman
,” Camille whispered as she leaned forward and embraced her mother.

Julien continued speaking with the doctor, and I hoped by the way the tension had lifted from his forehead and jaw that whatever was wrong with his mom wasn’t serious. He shook the doctor’s hand, walked him to the front door, then reappeared be my side.

“Is she going to be okay?” I asked.

He ran a hand through his hair and let out a deep breath, as if he’d been holding it in for hours. “Yes, the doctor is hopeful that she will be okay. She had some chest pains and some dizziness, but it could be from the stress of losing my father, and now the threat of losing our home.”

As I gazed around the spacious living room at the myriad of family photographs lining the sunrise yellow walls, I could feel the life that this house had held—still held—for Julien and his family. And his quest to get the painting back made even more sense to me.

 “I am sorry, Chloe, but the doctor has asked that we stay with her at least for tonight in case anything else happens. I know I promised you we would go to Lyon tonight, but . . .” he trailed off as his gaze wandered over to his mother lying on the couch.

“It’s okay,” I said. “I understand. We can go tomorrow once she’s feeling better.”

“Yes, we will definitely go tomorrow.” Julien walked over to his mother and kissed her on the forehead. She turned her head to the side, and for the first time, her gaze met mine.

Julien gingerly laid a hand on his mother’s shoulder. “
Maman
, I want you to meet Chloe, my girlfriend.”

Sending a tense glare in Julien’s direction, I opened my mouth to protest. But when a sweet smile spread across his mother’s face, I softened my glare and smiled back. What else could I do at that point?

Fifteen

Thankfully, Julien’s mother was too tired for small talk, so Camille walked her upstairs while Julien took me back out to the car to retrieve my shopping bag of clothing.

The night air was thick and humid, and the humming of cicadas buzzed in my ears as I followed Julien down the steps toward the Smart car. After handing me my bag, he closed the car door, leaned up against it and sighed.

“What a day,” he said with a shake of his head. “No, what a week.” He lifted his chin, planting his tired gaze on me.

I crossed my arms over my chest and resumed my glare. “Why did you tell your mother I was your girlfriend?”

Underneath the moonlight, the corners of Julien’s lips twitched upward into a grin. It was the first time I’d seen him smile since the boat ride earlier that day. “What? If you were not engaged would you not consider being my girlfriend?”

I shifted my weight and tore my gaze from his, hoping he couldn’t see my cheeks turning red under the starry sky. Never in all my life would I have thought I could find someone like Julien endearing or attractive. But after seeing how much he cared for his family, and how far he was willing to go to save his mother’s home, he suddenly didn’t seem so . . . unappealing.

And just the fact that I was thinking that made the flush spread to my ears and made my heartbeat quicken.

“Relax, I am kidding.” Julien pushed off the car and took a step toward me. “I told her that because she is too stressed to know any more about Claude and what he is up to. If I tell her that you are a victim of one of his cons, she will be devastated. She believed he was done with all of that. Like I told you, Claude is the youngest, and after everything she has been through with losing my father, she can’t bear to know that her youngest child is out breaking the law and hurting innocent women. So, for now, it is the easiest thing to say.”

I waved my left hand in front of Julien’s face. “Don’t you think she’ll notice my ring though?”

“Maybe.” Julien scrunched up his lips as he gazed at the sparkling diamond. “Just for tomorrow, could you take it off?”

“Take it off? I am not taking my ring off.” Just because I was beginning to see the kindness underneath Julien’s rough exterior didn’t mean I was going to publicly renounce my engagement for him.

“Why not? It is just a ring, no?”

“It’s not just any ring—it’s my
engagement
ring.”

“If my mom notices your ring, she may think that
we
are to be married. Is that what you prefer?”

“This is insane.” I turned away from Julien, allowing my gaze to sweep past the house, to the rolling hills bathed in silver moonlight, the rows of well-tended vines rustling quietly in the gentle breeze. I wanted to go lie down on one of those quiet hills, fall asleep, and pretend that none of this had ever happened. That my life was just as it had always been before.