“Message? What message?” Paul asked, wide-eyed. “When did I send you a message?”
“Are you on some sort of medication?”
“No. Why, are you?”
“Oh my God. Okay. I get it,” Mia sighed. “You’re trying to make me laugh, to get me to unwind. But you can stop, because it’s really not working. In fact, your whole—thing—kind of has me a little frightened. I mean, fair play, fine. Now I get it, and you can just stop.”
“I wasn’t pulling any kind of prank . . . And what did I do to freak you out?”
“All right, confirmed, the guy is completely, stark-raving mad. Just don’t upset him. Worse comes to worst, I order just a starter, and I’m out in under fifteen minutes.You’re right, let’s not wait any longer for them—it’s their fault for not being on time.”
“Exactly! Let’s order, and then you can tell me about your project.”
“What project?”
“Your restaurant!”
“Not much more to tell you—Southern French cuisine. Niçois, to be precise.”
“I love Nice! I was invited there for the book fair last June. The heat was kind of unbearable, but the people were really friendly. Well, the few who lined up to get their books signed.”
“How many novels have you written?”
“Six. The first one included, of course.”
“Why wouldn’t it be included?”
“No reason . . . Well, actually, it’s because I didn’t really know I was writing it while I was writing it.”
“This guy is really driving me up the wall. What on earth is wrong with him?”Her muttering was beginning to get louder. “Um, what is it you thought you were doing—building a sandcastle?”
“Either she is a complete and utter moron or she’s sitting there thinking that’s what I am.No, what I mean is that I couldn’t conceive of it being published at the time. I hadn’t even thought of sending it to a publisher.”
“But it was published?”
“Yes. Lauren sent it on my behalf—without asking my permission, actually—but hey, I guess I can’t hold that against her. It wasn’t easy at first, but it’s thanks to what she did that I ended up moving out here.”
“Can I ask you a weird question?”
“You can. I mean, I can’t guarantee I’ll answer.”
“Do you live far from here?”
“In the third arrondissement.”
“Which is more than five hundred yards from where we are.”
“We’re actually in the first, so yeah, it’s pretty far. Why?”
“No reason.”
“And what about you?”
“I live in Montmartre.”
“That’s a beautiful area. Let’s order, shall we?”
Paul called over the waitress.
