Why do you have this effect on me? Why do I completely lose myself when I’m with you?
“A penny for your thoughts.”
“I was thinking about us.”
“Will you give us another chance? Do you remember this hotel? We stayed here during our first trip to Paris, after we’d just started dating.”
Mia looked at the suite that David had reserved—the Louis XVI writing desk, lyre-back chair and wing armchair in the sitting room, and the king-size bed with pointed crown canopy in the bedroom.
“We had a smaller room back in those days.”
“Yes, well, we’ve come a long way,” David said, taking her in his arms. “Let’s be young lovers on holiday again tomorrow. We can take a riverboat up the Seine. We can even go and have ice cream on Île de la Cité . . . I can’t remember the name of that place, but you loved it.”
“It was on Île Saint-Louis.”
“Then let’s go to Île Saint-Louis. Please, Mia, stay with me tonight.”
“I didn’t bring anything with me.”
David led Mia to the wardrobe. Inside hung three dresses, two skirts, two blouses, two pairs of cotton pants, and two V-neck sweaters. He pulled open the drawers to reveal four sets of lingerie. Then he took her into the gleaming marble bathroom. Next to the washbasin lay a makeup bag and a toothbrush.
“I took the first plane here this morning and spent my day shopping for you.”
“I’m tired,” she said. “Let’s go to bed.”
“You didn’t touch your food in the restaurant. Can’t I order you something from room service?”
“No, I’m not hungry. I just want to sleep. And think.”
“What is there to think about?” David said, wrapping his arms around her. “Let’s stay together tonight, and tomorrow we’ll start again from scratch.”
Mia gently pushed him out of the bathroom and locked the door.
She turned on the faucet, picked up her phone, and scrolled through the texts she had received that evening.
It’s all ready. Hurry up!
Where are you? It’ll get cold.
Don’t worry, I understand if you have to
work late at the restaurant. Just let me know
that everything’s OK.
She was rereading the last message from Paul for the third time when the phone vibrated in her hand.
I’m going to write now. Switching my phone off.
We can talk tomorrow. Or not.
It was nearly midnight. Mia turned off her phone, undressed, and got into the shower.
Paul ran down the stairs, pushed open the front door, and took a deep breath of night air. Moustache was lowering the metal shutter outside his café. Hearing footsteps, he turned around.
“Monsieur Paul, what are you doing there, hanging around on the sidewalk like a lost soul?”
“Walking my dog.”
