me to never leave you again.”
“That would be nice.”
I pull away and put the bag on the kitchen counter before everything falls. “So what did you do all day?”
“Not much,” she says with a shrug, doing a tiny pirouette on the tile floor. “Well, I attempted to learn the piano.” She points to the white grand piano in the middle of the sitting area. It was once owned by Liberace. “But the ghost of Liberace did me no favors. Then I attempted to read up on all the art in your apartment.”
She eyes a stack of art books on the coffee table. “Unfortunately, I fell asleep once I got to Monet. I don’t know what it is about him, but he bores me to tears.”
“Apparently,” I comment. But secretly I am thrilled that she’s taken an interest in it.
“So what’s all this?” she asks, peering at the bags.
“I figured you’d be hungry,” I tell her, starting to sort through them. “I also know how much you wanted that picnic under the Eiffel Tower. So I thought the best thing for me to do was to bring the Eiffel Tower here.”
I take out a foot-high replica of the tower, the kind you find on every street corner, and place it in the living area by the window. Then I grab a thick red blanket from the linen closet and spread it out on the floor. I gesture to it. “Voilà. Have a seat.”
She gives me a disbelieving look. “We’re having a picnic inside?”
“Don’t act like you’re not impressed, lapin. Now sit, and I will do the rest.”
She takes a tentative seat on the floor, crossing her legs, and then watches me with interest as I start laying the items out in front of her. I start with a bottle of Dumont red wine because I know that’s the key to her heart. After she has her glass, I lay out the cheeses, meats, and baguettes.
“You really shouldn’t have,” she says, eyeing it all in awe.
“Actually, this is the least I can do,” I admit, sitting down beside her. “I feel terrible that I’ve been leaving you alone like this.”
“Olivier, please,” she says as she sips her wine. “I knew what coming to Paris would mean. I knew you’d be working. Okay, so maybe I didn’t know about the whole hiding me thing, but hey, I’m nothing if not adaptable.”
“I’m not hiding you,” I tell her, wishing I could just tell her the truth. But then what would she think of me? Sadie, I don’t want my cousin or uncle to know I have someone like you in my life, or they’ll make it their mission to break us apart. Because Pascal and my uncle have it out for me, because of something I’ve done, because my side and their side have always been at odds.
“It’s okay,” she says. “I’m just happy you’re here now. I mean, don’t you have friends you need to see too?”
I shrug. “I have friends, sure. Some from university, most from the hotel business. But they’re just as busy as I am.”
And to be honest, I’ve kept myself guarded over these last ten years. It’s hard to be open with people and make true friends and lay your soul bare when you know you’re hiding something from them, from the world. Sometimes I feel it’s all or nothing with me.
That’s how I feel with Sadie. I want to give her my all, but I don’t know how I can, and I don’t know what future we can have, even if I tell her my truth.
“And anyway,” I point out, “I haven’t heard you talk much about your friends back home.”
She gives me a small smile, and I feel like I may have touched a nerve. She starts tearing off pieces of the baguette, taking her time. “I have friends. I just don’t have a lot of friends. I’ve always been a bit of a loner, to be honest. When my father left and it was just me and my mom, especially for that first while, I wanted to be there for her as much as I could. You don’t understand . . . she was a mess. Way more than she is today. If I couldn’t hold her together, she’d fall apart on her own. Plus, the fact that I was studying like crazy to get a scholarship to college and working when I could . . . I just didn’t have time for anyone else. I