I understand your lack of response. Maybe it’s better this way. Good-byes don’t really make any sense.
Thank you for all the precious moments we spent together.
Take care of yourself, even if that phrase doesn’t make any sense either.
Paul
When she reached the hotel, Mia pretended she had a migraine. David told the concierge to forget the theatre tickets and had their dinner brought up to the suite.
At eleven p.m., Daisy said good night to the last customers. Back at her apartment, she found a portrait of herself lying on the kitchen worktop, along with a short note.
Daisy,
I’m going back to England. I couldn’t muster the courage to stop by the restaurant. I am jealous of your new waitress. Joking aside, the truth is, if I’d seen you, I’d probably have changed my mind. These days I spent with you in Paris have been like sketches of a new life for me, a life that I started to love from the bottom of my heart. But I took your advice. I am returning to my old life and leaving you to yours.
I’ll call you from London in a few days, once I’ve got my bearings again. I don’t know if you were aware that David was coming to fetch me, but if you were, you made the right choice in not warning me. I will never be able to thank you properly for being such a good friend, for always being there when I need you, for standing up to me, even at the risk I’d be angry with you, and for never lying to me. I lied to you—you know what about—and I’m still so sorry for that.
This drawing of you was done by a caricaturist on Place du Tertre. You won’t have any trouble spotting him: he’s a lovely guy, almost as lovely as this portrait of you.
I miss you already.
Your friend, who loves you like a sister,
Mia
PS: Don’t forget your promise. Last week of September. Greece. Just the two of us. I’ll take care of everything.
Daisy quickly grabbed her phone. She tried calling Mia but couldn’t get through, so she sent her a text.
I hope you’re going to miss me as much as I’ll miss you. My new waitress is an imbecile. She’s got hairy armpits and has already broken two plates. You should call me ASAP. Temporary insanity is fine, but not to the point of taking my advice! I beg you, never do that. Outside the kitchen, your best friend is wrong about everything, especially life.
I love you, too. Like a sister . . .
The next morning, the chauffeur took the on-ramp that led to the airport and pulled up to park right next to the Departures level. David opened the door and held out his hand for Mia. She was about to exit the car when the doors of the terminal slid open. Mia had enough experience to quickly spot the paparazzi, and these vultures hadn’t even bothered hiding. She could see two of them standing in front of the check-in kiosks now.
You bastard! Who else could have tipped them off? Your whole visit to Paris, your entire charm offensive, was just to have the two of us seen together, wasn’t it? The riverboat would have been too obvious, but the airport . . . ? Just a coincidence, of course! And I actually believed you, like a complete and utter fool . . .
“Are you coming?” David asked impatiently.
“Sorry, wait for me inside. I need to call Daisy first.”
“Can I take your suitcases?”
“Don’t worry, the chauffeur can handle that. I’ll see you in five minutes.”
“Right, I’ll go on ahead and buy newspapers. But don’t take too long.”
As soon as David was out of sight, Mia closed the car door and leaned in toward the chauffeur.
“What’s your name?”
“My name is Maurice, madame.”
“Maurice, how well do you know this airport?”
“I bring passengers here maybe four to six times a day, on average.”
“Do you know where the flights to Asia leave from?”
