And there will be no marriage without my consent. If he wants me gone, I’ll disappear before morning.
Perhaps it was the final push she needed, the chance to forge a new life on her own.
Even if it was breaking her heart to think she might never see her mother again.
8
PRESENT DAY
After a beautiful afternoon of throwing open her balcony windows to survey Paris as the sunshine warmed her skin, and exploring the neighbourhood she was staying in, Mia had finally arrived at the address that was scribbled in the back of Hope’s notebook. She stood outside the restaurant, checking that she had the right place, because it looked nothing like she’d expected. She’d thought it would be a bar, which was why she’d waited until early evening to visit—but from what she could tell it was an upmarket restaurant with a bar that stretched along one end.
It was typically French in style, with small round tables outside beneath a striped awning, and she watched as a waiter came to deliver mouthwatering plates of food to a couple seated near her. She smiled. At the very least she could order something delicious to eat, if she came up empty-handed. There was something magical about Paris, a feeling that was impossible to describe, and she was already loving every second of being in the city.
Mia pushed the door open and glanced around, before making her way down to the bar. There were two empty high-backed bar chairs, and she chose to take one rather than sit at alow table in the restaurant. Cigarette smoke was wafting in from outside in typical French fashion, and despite it only being early evening, she guessed that some of the patrons had already been there for hours.
She glanced around at the same time as an older bartender approached her, his smile kind.
‘Bonjour,’ he said.
‘Bonjour,’ she replied. ‘Sorry, I only speak English.’
He just nodded and smiled, as if it wasn’t a problem, and Mia wished she’d had time to brush up on her French before she came. She refused to think of Ethan, who’d so effortlessly ordered for them last time they’d been in Paris. If she closed her eyes, she could see him seated beside her, his smile so warm it could have melted her.
Mia pushed the thought away, giving the bartender her full attention.
‘Are you Joe?’ she asked, confused when he laughed.
‘No,’ he said, shaking his head as if she’d asked him if he was an elephant. ‘I’m definitely not Joe. He’ll be back soon. Would you like a drink while you wait?’
Mia ordered a white wine, not sure why what she’d said was so funny. He was still grinning when he came back with her glass.
‘Would you be able to tell him that I’m looking for him?’ she asked. ‘When he’s back?’
The man nodded and moved on to the next table, and after glancing around, Mia took out her phone to check her messages and then read the news for something to do. Until she heard a voice from behind her.
‘You were asking for me?’
Mia slowly set her phone down, her mouth dry as she connected the deep, heavily accented voice with the man staring at her from the other side of the bar. He had warm brown eyesand a thick head of dark hair that he ran his fingers through as she watched him.
Say something. Mia swallowed.Don’t just stare at him. Say something!
‘You’re Joe?’
He nodded, glancing down the bar to the people waiting, as if he didn’t have long.
No wonder the old guy laughed at me. Joe was about thirty years younger, handsome as hell, and with an accent that made her stomach turn to liquid. He wasn’t at all what she’d been expecting.
‘I was given your name by a bartender in London. He thought you might be able to help me.’
His brows knitted together as if he were confused, and she quickly reached for her bag and fumbled for the little bottle, not wanting him to walk away before she’d had the chance to tell him why she was there.
‘I’m trying to find out what you might know about this,’ she said, placing the bottle on the bar.
He said something in French to the older man, who stopped what he was doing to come and look. He shuffled over and stood beside Joe.
‘May I?’ Joe asked.
Mia nodded and watched as he picked it up, his brows still drawn together, before he glanced back at her.
