You wanthim,Étienne said to me at the bar.You always have.
Do I still?
I really need to work out where my priorities lie, but I’m finding it harder than ever to think straight.
27
I’ve assured Jackson that I’llget the contract back from Étienne as soon as is humanly possible, but it’s Saturday afternoon and I still haven’t reached out to him. Mellie has already brought him up twice—she seems quite taken with him, which is justgreat. She wants me to invite him over on Monday to watch the Michèle Mouton documentary.
I keep getting hit with flashbacks of our night under the stars. I was standing in front of a mirror earlier, putting on makeup, and out of nowhere my knees actually buckled.
I’ve been replaying our conversations too. He is taking up way too much of my headspace.
Eventually I break and send him a text:Hey, can I pop by for the contract?
He leaves me on read for fifty-three minutes and it drives me to the edge of insanity.
Party tonight, he responds at last.Come.
I don’t think I could stay away if I tried.
My stomach isin knots as I walk into Garage du Rallye at a quarter past nine. It’s not busy yet. Hozier’s “Too Sweet” is playing from the speakers and there’s a chilled vibe about the place as I scan the room for Étienne.
Charles is talking to the guy on the DJ decks, their heads bobbing along to the music. I wave hi and mouthÉtienne?and Charles points at the floor.
I’ve come here with a single objective: to get that bloody contract. I repeat the word to myself on a loop as I descend the spiral staircase, clutching the handrail the whole way to the bottom. My legs are shaky—I’m so on edge.
The 205 GTi Étienne has been working on now sits where the rally car was a month ago. It looks very cool—the red trim is exactly the same shade as the lipstick I’m wearing. I’m in all black like the car too: shorts and a short-sleeved blouse. I was all about embracing color when I revamped my wardrobe earlier in the summer, but tonight I wanted the safety of black.
Étienne is standing at the back of the car, his arms folded, having a conversation with a thirtysomething hipster with a blond beard. The guy is talking animatedly and Étienne seems engaged, but then he glances my way and freezes.
Contract.
“Salut,”he says when I walk up. He dispenses two very ordinary cheek kisses and I try to swallow my disappointment as he introduces me to “Gio.”
“Ciao,”Gio says, giving me two kisses too.
Contract.
“Sorry to interrupt,” I say, glancing at Gio. “But—”
Before I’ve finished my sentence, Étienne has rested his handon my lower back. The weight of his palm causes me to lose my train of thought, but then he digs his other hand into his pocket and fishes out his keys. “It’s on the coffee table,” he says, handing them over.
I smile with relief. “Thanks.”
He turns back to his friend and I go and let myself into his apartment. The white envelope addressed to Étienne Fournier is exactly where he left it a week ago by the window. I’m so glad to finally be able to tick this one important thing off my list, but when I pick up the envelope and turn it over, I’m dumbfounded to see that it’s still sealed.
The door to the apartment whooshes open and Étienne walks in, shutting it firmly behind him.
I reel on him. “You haven’t even opened it!”
He holds up his palms placatingly, a smile tipping his lips as he strides toward me, grabbing a pen from a shelf on the way. Without saying a word, he plucks the envelope from my fingers, sits on the sofa, and pulls out the paperwork, scanning the contents. He signs his name where indicated and repeats the process with the two additional copies.
“Thank you,” I say sincerely as he hands the stack back.
“Now can we have fun?” he asks in a low, meaningful voice. “Or do you have to rush that back toJackson?”
I involuntarily squeeze my knees together. “I don’t have to rush back.”
